THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 MRS CURGENVEN 
 
 OF CURGENVEN 
 
 ^ TTnBATT* LOS ANGELES 
 m y. OF CALIF. LIBRARY ^
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 Akminell 
 
 Urith 
 
 In the Roar of the Sea 
 
 Cheap Jack Zita 
 
 Margery of Quether 
 
 The Queen of Love 
 
 Jacqubtta 
 
 Kitty Alone 
 
 No km i 
 
 The Broom-Squire 
 
 Dartmoor Idylls 
 
 The Pennycomequicks 
 
 Guavas the Tinner 
 
 Bladys 
 
 Domitia 
 
 Pabo the Priest 
 
 Winifred 
 
 The Frobishers 
 
 Royal Georgie 
 
 Miss Quillet 
 
 Chris of all Sorts 
 
 In Dewisland 
 
 Little Tu'penny
 
 MRS CURGENVEN 
 
 OF CURGENVEN 
 
 BY 
 
 S BARING-GOULD 
 
 FIFTH AND CHEAPER EDITION 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON
 
 First Published . . Apri* /St)j 
 
 Second Edition . . . July /S93 
 
 Third Edition . . . November /Spj 
 
 Fourth Edition . . . December 1S96 
 
 Fifth and Cheaper Edition . March iqoj
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. ON THE TERRACE 
 
 II. A STRANGE FACE 
 
 III. A RACE 
 
 IV. IN THE TRAP 
 
 V. NAPLES AND MALTA 
 
 VI. IN THE PILL- BOX 
 
 VII. AT THE MILLINER'S 
 
 VIII. MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER TWO 
 
 IX. MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER ONE 
 
 X. THE REVEREND JAMES PAMPHLET 
 
 XI. CROWNS OF SILVER AND GOLD 
 
 XII. THE DAUGHTER OF THE PIXIES 
 
 XIII. THE TURNIPIKES' COTTAGE 
 
 XIV. GOLDEN FURZE IN BLOOM 
 XV. A REFUSAL 
 
 XVI. IN THE TRAIN 
 
 XVII. AT THE VAULT 
 
 XVIII. DRUMDUSKIE 
 
 XIX. IN A SITUATION 
 
 XX. ALICE ... 
 
 XXI. TOLMENNA 
 
 XXII. A REBELLION 
 
 XXIII. WANTED : AN ADDRESS 
 
 XXIV. THE GHOST OF A WILL 
 
 XXV. THE FOURTEENTH 
 
 XXVI. IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM 
 
 XXVII. A BROKEN BREAKFAST 
 
 XXVIII. A SECOND DISAPPOINTMENT 
 
 CAGE 
 1 
 
 7 
 
 13 
 
 18 
 
 24 
 
 31 
 
 37 
 
 44 
 
 51 
 
 57 
 
 64 
 
 69 
 
 76 
 
 83 
 
 89 
 
 95 
 
 101 
 
 109 
 
 115 
 
 121 
 
 128 
 
 135 
 
 142 
 
 148 
 
 154 
 
 159 
 
 166 
 
 172 
 
 2128343
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 PAOE 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 A RUINED HOME 
 
 .. 178 
 
 XXX. 
 
 TAKE CARE ! 
 
 .. 183 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 a father's HEART 
 
 .. 190 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A MENACED HOME 
 
 .. 197 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 PAX ALL ROUND 
 
 .. 203 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 IN THE OFFICE 
 
 .. 210 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 AN ENCOUNTER ... 
 
 .. 217 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 INVENI PORTUM 
 
 .. 225 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 CIVILIZATION AND SAVAGERY 
 
 ... 231 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 TRYING THE PISTOL 
 
 ... 238 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 A NEW PROPOSAL 
 
 ... 243 
 
 XL. 
 
 OLD AND NEW QUARTERS ... 
 
 ... 249 
 
 XLI. 
 
 AGAIN : INVENI PORTUM ... 
 
 ... 357 
 
 XLII. 
 
 A THIRD ALTERNATIVE 
 
 ... 262 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 A MEETING 
 
 ... 269 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 OFF ... 
 
 ... 276 
 
 XLV. 
 
 CHEATED 
 
 ... 283 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 IN THE SMOKE ... 
 
 ... 289 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 BROWN WILLY ... 
 
 ... 297 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Esther's advocates 
 
 .. 302 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 ACROSS THE MARSH 
 
 ... 308 
 
 L. 
 
 A CONFIDENCE ... 
 
 ... 315 
 
 LI. 
 
 CAPTURED 
 
 ... 321 
 
 LI1. 
 
 THROWING UP THE BALL ... 
 
 ... 229 
 
 LIII. 
 
 THE END OF THE WILL ... 
 
 ... 336 
 
 LIV. 
 
 ONCE MORE 'INVENI PORTUM ' 
 
 .. 343 
 
 LV. 
 
 THE RIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACEf 
 
 ... 347 
 
 LVI. 
 
 'CIVILIZATION BE BLOWED ' 
 
 .. 353
 
 MES. CUEGENVEN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 ' Excuse me — I am Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, madam, I did not say — of Curgenven.' 
 
 'There is but one Mrs. Curgenven, whether of Curgenven 
 or of anywhere else. Perhaps you meant the late Mrs. 
 Percival \ ' 
 
 ' I did mean the late Mrs. Percival Curgenven. I make a 
 thousand apologies.' 
 
 'There can be but one Mrs. Curgenven. If my husband 
 had had nine brothers, and all had married, there would have 
 been a Mrs. Jack, and a Mrs. Tom, and a Mrs. Will, and so 
 and so ; but I alone would have been Mrs. Curgenven. You 
 understand. I do not care about this myself, other people 
 are more particular. I do not make a point of this, others 
 do ; that is why I have spoken, to prevent your falling into 
 the mistake again, which in certain quarters might give deadly 
 offence. If we are anything at all in this world, let us be 
 exact.' 
 
 The lady who thus put to rights the person who had addressed 
 her, was tall, stately, good-looking. The person addressed 
 was small, undignified, ugly — a man with a face like a pug 
 dog. Who she was the reader has been informed by her own 
 lips. He was Mr. Physic, solicitor, agent for the Curgenven 
 estate as well as for two or three other properties in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 It was certainly strange that Mr. Physic should have been 
 for many years associated on certain terms of intimacy with 
 
 B
 
 2 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 the leading families around, and yet have never learned that 
 one canon of social intitulation which Mrs. Curgenven now 
 laid down for him with emphasis in a manner he was not 
 likely to forget. But it is the case that there are persons who 
 perceive nothing, and who must be taught with a hammer. 
 
 The estates of the gentry in the neighbourhood were not 
 large, and one agent was able to manage three or four. This 
 was a saving to the pockets of the landowners of a hundred or 
 a hundred and fifty pounds each. It was true they grumbled. 
 Each thought his affairs were not attended to with sufficient 
 promptitude, and talked of either managing them himself 
 or putting them into other hands, but no one did it. Each 
 landowner knew his own incompetence, and Mr. Physic knew 
 very well that there was no one in the district to compete 
 with him, and was not rendered uneasy at this restlessness. 
 He was a valuable man, each squire admitted that. He had 
 qualified as a solicitor, and had the law of landlord and tenant 
 at his fingers' ends. He drew the leases himself, as he was 
 competent to do so. He had an intimate acquaintance with 
 the prices in the building trade, and could draw up a specifi- 
 cation for a tender. He was dexterous with compasses, and 
 could make plans, and so do away with the necessity for 
 calling in an architect. Yet he was not liked. He was sus- 
 pected of sharp practice ; every man who employed him 
 believed that he was ' done ' by him, yet thought it worth his 
 while to submit rather than run the risk of getting into worse 
 hands. 
 
 The school-children were being given a treat of tea and 
 sports in the grounds of Curgenven, as Mrs. Curgenven was 
 the general manageress of the Sunday school, and supervised 
 the needlework in the National school. 
 
 Tables formed of boards laid on trestles stood on the terrace, 
 covered with white cloths, and studded with plates piled up 
 with cake, bread-and-jam, muffins, and adorned with glass 
 celery-holders full of flowers. The children were eating as 
 hard as they could, producing with their mouths a sound like 
 the crumpling of newspapers. The servants of Curgenven 
 were running about, assisted by the pupil teachers, ministering 
 to the wants of the children. 
 
 'Stop, Phoebe ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Curgenven. 'That child 
 has already drunk six cups. She'll be ill if she takes a 
 seventh.' Then she returned to Mr. Physic. 
 
 ' Yes — what about the late Mrs. Percivalf 
 
 'Nothing more than this, ma'am, that it is a pity for young
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 3 
 
 Master Justin that his mother is not alive. There is really no 
 one to control him.' 
 
 'That depends on what sort of person she was. I never 
 knew her. If a man marries out of the country, heaven alone 
 knows what he may pick up. That will do, Lambert. There 
 is no necessity for wasting coals.' The last words were 
 addressed to her husband, Captain Curgenven, who was 
 engaged on the boiler that supplied hot water for the teapots, 
 and which was planted at a corner of the terrace near a tap 
 whence water could be drawn. 
 
 ' Dear, dear ! what a mess there will be to-morrow ! Really, 
 Lambert, you need not have strewn the coals about in this 
 fashion. One would think you were made of money to be so 
 extravagant, and to have an army of gardeners to clear up 
 the litter after you. Look here ! Do not you see the children 
 have had enough 1 There is little Bessy Col lop has had six 
 cups of tea already, and Phoebe, who never thinks — who has 
 no more brains than a peacock — was giving her a seventh when 
 I interfered. Let the fire out. Don't boil water when water 
 is no longer wanted. And such lumps of coals too ! ' 
 
 'My dear, I suppose the maids want hot water to wash 
 up with.' 
 
 ' But you don't suppose that they'll wash up on the terrace, 
 do you 1 Let them attempt it. Where's papa ? ' 
 
 * I saw him talking to Dal by, the school-master, just now.' 
 
 The clear, searching eyes of Mrs. Curgenven ranged the 
 terrace. 
 
 ' I see him,' she said. ' Now mind — no more coals,' then off 
 she went to her father, the rector of the parish, the Rev. 
 James Pamphlet, a tall, elderly man with white whiskers very 
 full, and standing out as if each hair were electrified. He wore 
 the most starched of collars and the most glossy of coats. On 
 his face sat a perpetual smile, and he turned his head from 
 side to side and nodded urbanely to every pupil teacher and 
 parishioner whose eye he encountered, and he continued nodding 
 after each greeting as though his head were hung on a wire, 
 and so nicely balanced, that it did not recover its equipoise at 
 once. 
 
 ' Papa, the children have nearly finished. Lambert is going 
 to show them his mechanical contrivances ; he will require a 
 few minutes for winding them up. So, when they have done 
 tea, let the children have a short service to keep them 
 occupied.' 
 
 ' Certainly, Jane.'
 
 4 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Moreover, if they are withdrawn and in church, it will 
 allow the maids to clear away the tea-things.' 
 
 ' Exactly- I will give them an address.' 
 
 ' Papa ! — not too long. Is it really necessary that there 
 should he one 1 A short service, some hymns, and all that 
 sort of tiling, just sufficient to keep them out of the way when 
 they are not wanted.' 
 
 1 I think it advisable ■— imperative that I should give an 
 address. Dalby is local agent for one of the county papers, 
 and I should not like a notice of this treat to appear without 
 some mention of me and my address.' 
 
 ' Very well, papa, don't make it too long. I suppose the 
 children may sing something as they march to church.' 
 
 1 Don't ask me. If you wish it, do it, but nothing doctrinal, 
 you understand. Tell Dalby to set them something to sing 
 that has sentiment, not meaning in it. I don't wish to appear 
 as a party man, and there is no saying, if they sang something 
 with doctrine of any sort in it, it might be taken up and made 
 a party matter.' 
 
 ' Why,' suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Curgenven, ' dear me ! 
 That surely is Esther Morideg ! Mr. Dalby — here ! This 
 instant. How comes this about 1 Here is Esther Morideg 
 among the scholars. She has not made her proper number of 
 attendances, of that I am very sure.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven had singled out a dark-eyed, red-haired 
 girl at the table. 
 
 ' Stand up, Esther. What audacity to put in an appearance 
 here 1 Mr. Dalby, can you inforn me how many attendances 
 this girl has made 1 She is most irregular. Has not got 
 into the second standard yet — and at her age ! Disgraceful, 
 Mr. Dalby. Has she been reported to the relieving officer V 
 
 1 Yes, ma'am, the list of attendances is given every 
 month.' 
 
 ' And he has done nothing 1 ' 
 
 ' No, ma'am. At least, he lays it before the School 
 Attendance Committee at Liskeard.' 
 
 ' And that, of course, does nothing 1 ' 
 
 * Nothing at all, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Of course not, they never do. But that is no reason why I 
 should not. There is no excuse for Esther's non-attendance, is 
 there 1 ' 
 
 • Not that I am aware of.' 
 
 'Then, Esther, tie up your mug in your kerchief and be off 
 with you home. Captain Curgenven and myself did not invite
 
 ON THE TERRACE. 5 
 
 those children who are irregular, disorderly, and no credit to 
 the school. We are encouraging non-attendance, idle ways, if 
 we pass this over. Go ! You shall not see what Captain 
 Curgenven is about to show to the other children. You shall 
 not run races, nor play games, nor] scramble for nuts and 
 lollipops. Go, and then, perhaps, another year you will learn 
 to be more regular in your attendance.' 
 
 The girl began to cry. 
 
 Then a hand was put into that of Mrs. Curgenven. It was 
 that of her own daughter Alice, a fair, sweet girl of sixteen. 
 
 1 Dear mamma, do let Esther stay. She has had her tea. I 
 am sure she will be more regular in future.' 
 
 ' No ! ' said the lady. ' Discipline must be maintained. 
 What is the good of our having schools, and paying to 
 maintain them, if the children are not sent to them ? ' 
 
 ' If you love me, mamma ! ' 
 
 ' I love you very well, Alice, but I have my duties to 
 perform. No— it is of no use your running off to get papa 
 to intercede. In these matters I am inflexible.' The girl 
 had run to her father, and was pleading with him. He was 
 engaged still on the boiler, raking out the fire, and was 
 without his coat. Captain Curgenven never could be brought 
 to a sense of what was proper to his position. His wife's 
 colour mounted when she perceived that he was in his shirt- 
 sleeves. 
 
 ' Really, Lambert, this is too provoking. No, Lambert, it 
 is not of the slightest use your putting in a plea for Esther 
 Morideg. It seems to me as if the whole world would go 
 into a dishevelled, slouching, happy-go-lucky condition but 
 for me and the like of me. Some one must make a stand for 
 order and decency. Do, for pity's sake, put on your coat, 
 and say not a word for Esther. Goodness gracious me ! 
 What has that fellow Dalby set the children to sing 1 Alice 
 — run and stop it. This will never do. They are marching 
 to church with " I would I were in monkey-land, and swing- 
 ing by my tail." Papa will be annoyed. This is worse than 
 a doctrinal hymn. Run, Alice— stop it before the first 
 children get into the porch swinging by their tails. One 
 must do everything oneself, no one is to be trusted. I did 
 think the school-master had more sense. It will upset papa 
 seriously for fear what people might say, and lest it should 
 get into the papers. Don't laugh, Lambert — it is no laughing 
 matter. There — do leave the boiler alone. You go and get 
 your mechanism wound up and set agoing. And mind,
 
 6 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Lambert, I won't have you cutting silly jokes with the 
 children, and making yourself ridiculous. Please not to 
 forget that you are Curgenven of Curgenven, and don't leave 
 it to me alone to maintain the dignity of the family and of 
 the name.' 
 
 As Mrs. Curgenven turned to direct her energies on another 
 point, she encountered a wild-looking woman, with tanned 
 face, a scarlet kerchief about her throat, and an apron 
 covering her black gown. 
 
 1 Lady ! ' said this woman, ' have you sent my Esther 
 away 1 ' 
 
 1 Oh ! Mrs. Morideg, you here ! Now I can tell you my 
 mind plainly. Yes, I have dismissed your grand-daughter. 
 She came here under false pretences. She was here as a 
 scholar, and she is an ignoramus. She is not an attendant at 
 school, but a stay-away. What do you expect will become of 
 the girl in this world or the next, unless she goes through 
 her standards 1 ' 
 
 ' I could not always spare her, ma'am.' 
 
 ' That is a mere excuse. Where there is a will there is a 
 way. You do not value education. You know very well 
 that I offered to pay her school pence if you would send her 
 regularly. As the School Attendance Committee won't do its 
 duty, I must. And I tell you, there is no treat for those who 
 are not regular scholars.' 
 
 ' Please, lady, pass it over this once. Esther be a-crying, 
 and her has been shamed afore all the school.' 
 
 ' I cannot pass it over. Let this be a salutary lesson.' 
 
 1 But, lady, look round. How grand and beautiful it all is 
 in the park and gardens. You see that every day.' 
 
 ' I have been through my standards.' 
 
 ' And Esther never sees aught but the moors.' 
 
 1 She has not yet got into the second standard. She is not 
 qualified to see anything else.' 
 
 1 Instead of this day being to her one of happiness, it's one 
 of sorrow ; and her's looked forward to it half the year. 
 Pray, sweet lady darling, let Esther come hack.' 
 
 ' When I have said a word I do not withdraw it. I am 
 sorr y — but some one must make a stand. If the relieving 
 officer won't look up the non-attendances, and the Attendance 
 Committee won't prosecute, I must do my duty.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven was not an unkind woman, but she was a 
 woman who had a strong sense of her obligations. Brought 
 up by a feeble father, married to a volatile husband, she had
 
 A STRANGE FACE. 7 
 
 come to regard herself as the sole prop that sustained the 
 moral, religious, and social order in the place. When she 
 hal made up her mind that a certain course of action was 
 right, she did it, regardless of dissuasion and comment. 
 
 As she looked at the woman before her, she was struck 
 with the peculiarity of her eyes, which were as though double- 
 irised. These strange eyes were now fixed on her, and their 
 peculiarity sent unwittingly a thrill through her. She could 
 understand how that Thomasine Morideg was said to have 
 the evil eye, and be able to ' overlook,' that is to blight, men 
 and beasts by the glance of these strange eyes. 
 
 The woman, looking at her, put her hands behind her back 
 and untied her apron, held it before her, and shook it. 
 
 ' I had good thoughts of you, lady,' she said, ' and kindly will, 
 and I shake them out as I shake the dust from my apron.' 
 
 Then she turned her apron and bound it about her waist 
 again, and said — 
 
 'And — lady — as I turn this apron so do I turn your 
 fortune as was up to-day into down to-morrow. All your 
 good fortune be gone from you and be changed into evil.' 
 
 She stepped aside and walked away, before Mrs. Curgenven 
 had recovered from her surprise. In her place stood a 
 stranger. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A STRANGE FACE. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven had not observed this person before, owing 
 to the servants passing and repassing, the volunteers flying 
 about and running against each other in their efforts to make 
 themselves useful in clearing the tables. These volunteers 
 were farmers' daughters and wives, glad to oblige the wife of 
 their squire. The stranger was a dark-haired, sallow woman, 
 of about her own age, near thirty-five, with large, intelligent, 
 expressive eyes, and with the lower portion of her face 
 beautifully formed. Mrs. Curgenven could not recollect 
 having ever seen her before, and the face was not one which, 
 when once seen, was likely to be forgotten. 
 
 The first question the squiress put to herself referred to 
 the position in life occupied by this stranger, that she might
 
 8 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 regulate her conduct towards her accordingly. Social standing 
 was all-in-all to Mrs. Curgenven. She addressed those of her 
 own rank in one fashion, those of a lower position in another 
 fashion, and with nuances in her mode of address nicely 
 adjusted to the several gradations on the social scale of those 
 to whom she spoke. 
 
 Was this person before her a lady, a real lady, or not ? The 
 stranger did not look in the least like a farmer's wife. The 
 delicate texture of the skin, the ivory complexion, were not 
 such as were found among those who face all weathers on 
 market days. The delicate lips, the fine chin, spoke of culture. 
 Mrs. Curgenven studied the dress of the stranger. It was 
 sad in colour, simple, well-made, but not fashionable. It was 
 distinctly the dress of a lady, and as distinctly that of a poor 
 lady. The keenly critical eye of Mrs. Curgenven detected 
 signs of wearing out. 
 
 But how was it possible that a lady should thus intrude 
 uninvited on private grounds 1 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven assumed an air of stiffness, threw a keep- 
 your-distance look into her eyes, and said, ' May I ask whom 
 I have the pleasure ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 The squiress made a slight bow. 
 
 ' I am Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 'You misunderstand me.' The strange lady looked round, 
 and — possibly without premeditation — drew off her left glove. 
 The lady of Curgenven House saw a delicate hand, and on the 
 third finger was the golden wedding-hoop. 
 
 No one was near ; no one could hear what was said. 
 Those who were on the terrace were engaged with mugs and 
 teapots, with empty cake-trays, and half-eaten dishes of hread- 
 and -butter. 
 
 'You misunderstand me,' repeated the stranger, '/am Mrs. 
 Curgenven.' 
 
 'Mrs. — er — er — what Curgenven? I beg your pardon, Mis. 
 er — er ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Curgenven,' answered the strange lady. ' My 
 husband is Lambert Curgenven.' 
 
 The blood rushed into the face of the squiress. She drew 
 back a step, looked at the speaker from head to foot. 
 
 'Tins insolence ' 
 
 ' Excuse me, it is the truth. Call Lambert.' 
 
 To hear her husband, the Squire of Curgenven, a Deputy- 
 Lieutenant, a Justice of the Peace, called by his Christian name
 
 A STRANGE FACE. 9 
 
 by one not authorized by tie of blood to do so, completely upset 
 Mrs. Curgenven's judgment. She beckoned to Mr. Physic, whom 
 she saw at some distance, to come to her aid. There boiled up in 
 her mind a feeling of wrath against her lmsband. This was 
 what came of taking off his coat before folk ! of poking and 
 raking coals under a boiler ! No wonder that 
 
 ' Stay,' said the strange lady. ' Do not let us have a scene. 
 I did not come prepared for that ; I do not desire it. I had 
 no intention of doing more than show myself, that Lambert 
 might be prepared to act according to what is just and right.' 
 
 ' How dare you speak of Captain Curgenven in this 
 manner ? ' exclaimed the squiress, usually a cool and collected 
 person, but now completely thrown off her balauce by the 
 audacity of the personage before her. 
 
 ' I have the best possible right — I am his wife.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven beckoned vehemently, and Physic almost 
 ran to her side. 
 
 ' Mr. Physic, call the constable ; there is here a person — 
 either a lunatic or sent to insult me — that must be removed 
 at once.' She turned to the stranger, ' Will you go 1 or shall 
 I call in the police 1 ' 
 
 'I will not now leave till Captain Curgenven has been 
 summoned.' 
 
 Mr. Physic looked from one speaker to the other, he did not 
 in the least comprehend what was the situation. 
 
 ' It would have been better,' said the stranger, ' that this 
 matter were settled quietly. It was wrong in me, perhaps, to 
 come here on such an occasion, but I thought to take advantage 
 of the crowd and see Curgenven, about which I had heard, and 
 to have the chance of meeting my husband, that he might be 
 aware I was alive and prepared to assert my rights.' 
 
 An expression of astonishment and perplexity passed over 
 Mr. Physic's face, he struck his hands together audibly. 
 
 1 Madam ! ' said he, ' here come all the children and school 
 teachers back from church. Good gracious ! this is not a 
 matter for such a moment.' 
 
 ' I will have this insolent person removed. Call the con- 
 stable, Tregaskis, I saw him somewhere on the terrace. On 
 my own grounds to receive such an outrage ! It is too 
 monstrous ! ' 
 
 ' I think,' said Physic, • I really think, ma'am, we'd better 
 not have the police here. I have no doubt this— this — lady 
 will see the advisability of retiring.' 
 
 ' I will go,' said the stranger, ' and make no disturbance at
 
 10 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 all. It is not in v wish to do so. Your position, madam, is a 
 painful one, and I would spare you contusion as uuch as 
 possible, but I insist on being brought face to face \wun Captain 
 Curgenven. You shall judge for yourself.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven interrupted her. ' It is unseemly ; it is an 
 impertinence. You shall not be brought face to face with the 
 captain. I absolutely forbid it. If you do not go at once, of 
 your own accord, I will have you removed by force.' 
 
 ' I am not going till I have seen him or he has seen me. 
 Permit me to seat myself on that garden bench. I will speak 
 to no one. I will remain perfectly quiet, and then bring the 
 captain this way where he can confront me.' 
 
 'Call the constable,' said the squiress, imperiously. 
 
 ' Allow me to entreat you,' urged Mr. Physic. ' May I have 
 a word in private I ' 
 
 ' Certainly.' Mrs. Curgenven stepped on one side, and the 
 agent attended her. She had reared her head and stiffened 
 her back. Her colour was heightened. She was unaccustomed 
 to be browbeaten and insulted — she, the squiress, the rector's 
 daughter ! And this insult was so gross, so unutterably 
 repulsive. 
 
 ' If you will suffer me to advise, ma'am,' said the agent. 
 ' The first thing to be now considered is how to avoid a 
 scandal.' 
 
 ' The woman is mad. She has broken out of an asylum.' 
 
 ' Possibly. But if what she says be heard, the tongues of 
 the whole neighbourhood will be set wagging.' 
 
 ' What do I care t The woman is a maniac. Who gives the 
 slightest credence to the ravings of a lunatic 1 ' 
 
 • It will save both yourself and Captain Curgenven a great 
 deal of annoyance if you humour her craze — supposing it to be 
 a craze ' 
 
 'It is a craze. I am surprised, Mr. Physic, that you should 
 allow there is any doubt in the mattor.' 
 
 ' There is no saying, ma'am. Excuse my speaking what may 
 be very unpleasant, but something may have occurred in the 
 past for which no doubt Captain Curgenven is much grieved, 
 and which may — I only say may — have caused this craze on 
 the part of the female who is now occasioning unpleasantness. 
 What we must endeavour to do is to get her away without 
 any disturbance, and inquire into the matter afterwards.' 
 
 ' But conceive I ' exclaimed the incensed lady. ' If what she 
 asserts were true, what would / be'< It is preposterous. She 
 is mad. She is raving.'
 
 A STRANGE FACE. 11 
 
 'And a maniac is best managed by humouring. Let her 
 seat herself as she proposes. Let Captain Curgenven be 
 brought near, where she can see him and he can see her.' 
 
 ' Then there will be a scene. She will do the wildest, most 
 outrageous acts.' 
 
 ' Trust me. I will have the police brought near. If she 
 does, she shall be removed at once, but I do not think it. 
 I will, with your permission, soothe her, and persuade her 
 to go.' 
 
 ' But who is she ? What is she 1 ' 
 
 'I never saw her in my life before.' 
 
 ' And you know nothing about her 1 She can't have sprung 
 out of the fountain, or dropped out of a rook's nest.' 
 
 ' I have a suspicion.' 
 
 ' What ? ' asked Mrs. Curgenven, turning sharply on the 
 agent. 
 
 He hesitated, regretted what he had said, and endeavoured 
 to retreat from it. ' No — it is not right to say that. I assure 
 you, ma'am, I have never seen her before.' 
 
 ' And you know nothing about her 1 ' 
 
 ' Nothing.' 
 
 ' Very well, I yield.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven and the agent turned to where they had 
 quitted the stranger, and found that she had withdrawn and 
 had quietly seated herself on the bench she had previously 
 indicated. She was drawing on again her left glove. 
 
 A buzz of voices was approaching, above it rang out an 
 occasional word of command in a hard masculine voice. The 
 children were marching two and two from church to the terrace, 
 and, as the singing had been put a stop to, were talking together 
 in procession. 
 
 ' Monkey-land ' had been too much for the rector. He was 
 afraid lest it should get into the papers. Accordingly in church 
 he had scribbled on a fly-leaf of bis hymnal, ' No singing on 
 leaving church, please,' and had torn it out and passed the order 
 to the school-master. 
 
 The strange lady was seated on the terrace in a garden-chair. 
 The twilight from the north lighted her pearly-white face. 
 The brows were contracted and the lips tightly drawn together. 
 She looked dreamily at the landscape. 
 
 The park-like grounds, of the most velvety grass-clothed 
 sweeps, were studded with noble oaks, beech, and Scotch pines. 
 The woods became dense about the base of the moors that 
 soared up into the pure sky, crested with granite, and the
 
 12 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 foliage rolled part way up their sides. A stream, falling iu 
 foam over a granite lip, passed in a series of cascades through 
 the woods, and spread below tlie lawn into a lake tenanted by 
 wild-fowl. 
 
 Bat the stranger did not look at the distant landscape, her 
 eyes observed the house, the terrace, the gardens and shrub- 
 beries. The house was large, a Queen Anne mansion of grey 
 stone with granite dressings, and tall windows telling of stately 
 rooms within. 
 
 Presently her ear caught a voice — a cheery voice shouting. 
 ' Now then, children, there are prizes for all those who have 
 been good, and there are also some wonderful contrivances of 
 mine I am going to show you. As to the prizes, you shall 
 each choose what suits you best, according to the number of 
 good-conduct and attendance marks you have, and by your 
 standards. Come, follow me ! ' 
 
 Her delicate lips quivered as with pain, as she heard the 
 voice, then she turned and looked at the speaker. It was 
 Captain Curgenven, in a short coat, with his cap off, held in 
 his hand, waving it to the scholars who were overflowing the 
 terrace, along with the pupil teachers, district visitors, the 
 school-master, the Scripture reader, and the mission woman. 
 
 ' Now then, come along ! ' shouted the captain, and he turned 
 and faced the strange lady who had risen from her seat. 
 
 His eyes rested upon her for a moment without inquiry in 
 them. There were a twinkle of fun and aglow of good-humour 
 in his eyes. But slowly the spark went out, and the glow dis- 
 appeared. The whole expression of his face changed. His 
 colour faded, and a vague look of fear stole over his features. 
 
 For full a minute the captain stood speechless, his lips parted, 
 looking blankly at the strange woman, the children, the 
 monitresses, the school-master, the Scripture reader, the mission 
 woman, and Mrs Curgenven standing by. Then slowly — 
 drawing a long breath — he gasped : • Good Lord 1 Resa ! ' 
 
 ' Lambert ! ' 
 
 The captain raised a trembling hand to his brow, that which 
 held his cap, and retained it there. ' Resa ! what is to be 
 done? I thought — 1 thought you were dead.' 
 
 Then he slowly turned and staggered away, and the school- 
 children, the monitresses, the sewing-mistress, the parochial 
 helpers, the mission woman who worked on one line, and the 
 Scripture reader who worked across it, the agent, the school- 
 master — all trooped after him to see what was to be seen and 
 to get what was to be given.
 
 A RACE. 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A RACE. 
 
 Captain Curgenven's step was usually firm, and he walked 
 with a swing, as though pacing the quarter-deck with a sense 
 of authority. But now he walked with uncertainty, as doubt- 
 ful in which direction to go ; there was no spring in his step, 
 but limpness in the knees. He still held the cap in one hand, 
 he forgot to put it on his head. His steps turned in the 
 direction of the bungalow. 
 
 The bungalow was a structure the captain had erected at a 
 little distance from the house, and was of wood. It contained 
 a billiard- and a smoking-room, also a workshop. Here the 
 captain was wont to spend much of his time. He had a 
 mechanical talent, and delighted in making little mills turned 
 by water, and scarecrows set in motion by wind, and jacks to 
 be made active by the rush of smoke up a chimney, and 
 absurd toys for the tea-table to be set in movement by the 
 steam from the kettle. 
 
 All these fruits of the ingenuity of Captain Curgenven were 
 useless, though serving to amuse for a few minutes. Mrs. 
 Curgenven had taken on her at first to remonstrate with her 
 husband for spending his time and thought upon trifles, but 
 had finally submitted, in deference to her father's opinion, 
 who had represented to her that ' if he did anything of 
 practical utility he would run counter to the interests, the 
 habits, or the prejudices of some one or other, and that would 
 give rise to animadversion. Whereas now,' said the Reverend 
 James Pamphlet, ' no one can say anything against what he 
 invents and executes, which is a great — nay, it is everything.' 
 
 Captain Curgenven reeled along the path to the bungalow 
 with the swarm of children, teachers, and parochial odds and 
 ends after him, laughing, talking, in flutter of expectation and 
 jubilant hope. That is to say, the children who were to 
 receive prizes were laughing and hopeful ; the Scripture 
 reader and the mission woman maintained a professional 
 solemnity, the first because it was sinful, the second because 
 it was indecorous to laugh ; and the school-master remained 
 grave, lest any tokens of levity should sap the foundations of 
 his authority by letting the school-children see that he was 
 subject to like weaknesses as themselves. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven and Mr. Physic followed, the former
 
 14 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 perplexed — not knowing what to make of her husband's 
 change of manner and of colour, more than half disposed to 
 believe that ho was performing antics, indulging in low 
 buffoonery, and hugging herself with the resolution that for 
 this as well as the waste of coals, and the working in shirt- 
 sleeves, she must take him to task in a curtain lecture. 
 
 Mr. Physic followed, interested to see how this strange 
 incident would end. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven was far removed from attributing import- 
 ance to the appearance and assertion of the strange lady. 
 She concluded in her mind that this individual was either 
 ins:me, and therefore to be pitied, or was an impostor seeking 
 to extort money, and was therefore to be treated with 
 severity. 
 
 There are certain self-evident verities on which all sciences 
 are built up. The geometrician assumes that things that are 
 equal to the same thing are equal also to one another, and the 
 metaphysician that the ego, the I, myself, is a sentient unit. 
 
 So did Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven assume as an unassail- 
 able and self-evident axiom that she was Mrs. Curgenven of 
 Curgenven. The corollary to which was, that in the entire 
 universe there could by no possibility be — could not be 
 imagined in the region of fancy to be — another Mrs. Cur- 
 genven of Curgenven. 
 
 Presently the captain became aware that many feet were 
 tramping the gravel after him, and he turned and stood, 
 with arms stiffly extended, cap in hand, looking at those who 
 followed. 
 
 The tail had grown. 
 
 The sidesmen and churchwardens had joined it. The 
 leaders of the Band of Hope and of the Church of England 
 Temperance Society, the organist of the church, the promo- 
 tress of mothers' meetings, had fallen in. The police-constable, 
 Mr. Tregaskis, seeing that the guests, old and young, were 
 drifting in one direction, also joined to form a link in the 
 chain, a joint in the tail. The sexlon, the clerk, the choir, 
 every member in the elaborately articulated and perfectly 
 organized parochial system — organized for the sake of organ- 
 ization, with no other object than organization — was in the 
 coil that wound after the captain, and was suddenly arrested 
 by his turning and facing it. 
 
 In the distance appeared the rector, passing his fingers 
 through his white whiskers, stalking down the churchyard 
 path.
 
 A RACE. 15 
 
 Several of the servant-maids of the hall in their white caps 
 and aprons ran from the kitchen. They had removed the 
 tea-things and wished to see the children receive their 
 prizes. 
 
 James, the footman, also followed in plush and white stock- 
 ings, walking with as much gravity and dignity as the rector. 
 
 Almost the sole person who had not been caught by the 
 current and drawn after Captain Curgenven to the bungalow 
 was the strange lady. She had not resumed her seat on the 
 garden bench, but was walking down the drive to the lodge 
 gates, turning her back on the festive scene. 
 
 Outside the gates were Thomasine Morideg and Esther. 
 
 'What,' said the old woman, ' be you turned away? Has 
 her said, " You shan't come in. Get you gone, you're none 
 fit to be wi' me " ? Be easy i' mind. I've turned her luck 
 again' her.' 
 
 The captain stood facing the troop of children, women, and 
 men that had been following him. He looked vacantly from 
 one to another, as though he did not understand the significa- 
 tion of the rout at his heels. He saw his wife and Physic, 
 and his lips moved. He was trying to articulate something, 
 but could produce no sound. He gesticulated with his crip. 
 Then he perceived the police-constable, and at once turned and 
 ran towards the bungalow. 
 
 The boys of the school uttered a whoop ! and set off at a 
 scamper, followed by the girls at a trot, and the pupil teachers, 
 school-master, Scripture reader, and mission woman at an 
 amble. A budget of tracts escaped the pocket of the Scrip- 
 ture reader, and fluttered about and then fell on the gravel, 
 where they were trampled by the feet of the children, the 
 churchwardens, and the district visitors, deaf to their appeals, 
 ' Where ai*e you going 1 ' ' Are you converted 1 ' ' How are 
 your poor souls 1 ' 
 
 The black veil of the mission woman unfurled and streamed 
 behind her as she careered along, like the pennon of a 
 buccaneer that gave no quarter. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven, seeing the tracts on the gravel, exclaimed, 
 'How can the captain so forget himself as to lead them a 
 paper-chase 1 ' 
 
 Captain Curgenven reached the bungalow, clashed inside, 
 shut and locked the door in the face of his pursuers. At once 
 the swarm accumulated about the entrance. The children 
 whispered, and laughed, and contended with one another 
 which came first in order for choosing the prizes.
 
 16 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 One of the district visitors, whose duty it was in the highly 
 organized parish to see after missionary contributions, had an 
 S.P.G. mission-box in one pocket and a C.M.S. box in the 
 other, each with coppers in it, and as she ran with the 
 children she rattled, but now that the race was at an end the 
 rattle ceased. 
 
 ' Our squire be an uncommon sort of a gent,' said one of 
 the churchwardens ; ' don't y' think so, Jukes 1 ' 
 
 1 Well,' answered the other, ' I should say, Boales, as he 
 made hisself too common.' 
 
 ' It's them nautical goings-on,' said Boales. ' Sailors 
 haven't no proper respect for themselves as has other folk.' 
 
 ' You see he waren't born to it,' said Jukes. 
 
 'That's just about it,' agreed Boales. 
 
 The rector, walking in stately solemnity from the church, 
 as though unable to rouse himself from the ecstatic trance 
 produced by his own eloquence in his address to the children, 
 raised his white eyebrows, and as he put his hand to the 
 wicket-gate from the church-path into the Curgenven grounds, 
 saitl, ' Tish ! tish ! there is my son-in-law at his nonsense 
 again. I wish he could be taught to wear the wisdom-cap. 
 He is a boy in spirits, and he forgets that he has a position, 
 as having married my daughter, that he has to keep up. 
 Should it please heaven to invest me in apron and gaiters, it 
 would pain me inexpressibly to know that my son-in-law was 
 capable of running — running with school-children.' 
 
 Then he turned slowly round and faced the church. ' I 
 wonder that the ringers are not giving us a peal. I fear they 
 are wetting their palms.' 
 
 The throng and noise about the bungalow door increased. 
 Boys who were not on the doorstep thrust off such as were, 
 and stepped into their places. Others had tilled their pockets 
 with burs and were tangling them in the hair of the girls. 
 The mission woman and the Scripture reader, thrust together 
 in the throng, glowered at each other, and prepared to plunge 
 into controversy, when Mrs. Curgenven called to the school- 
 master, ' Don't you think, Mr. Dalby, it would be as well to 
 set the children to sing till Captain Curgenven is reaily for 
 them ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, madam, but the rector was displeased when I set 
 them to sing when going to church.' 
 
 1 Oh ! that was quite another matter. There is a time and 
 there is a place for everything. " Monkey-land " will do here, 
 but not in the churchyard. Can you not see that, or must
 
 A BACK 17 
 
 you be taught it? Eeally,' grumbled Jane Curgenven to 
 herself, 'the obtuseness of some people is astounding.' 
 
 1 Very well, madam, as you wish it. Children I Attention ! ' 
 
 In the stillness produced by his call, sounded the twang of 
 the pitch-key, and then he began, ' Do — re — mi — ,' when from 
 the bungalow rang the report of a pistol. 
 
 The school-master did not start the song. The children 
 ceased to quarrel. All held their breath. 
 
 ' Bless me ! has anything happened ? ' exclaimed Mr. Physic, 
 and elbowed his way forward. 
 
 1 It is nothing,' said Mrs. Curgenven, ' but the captain at 
 his pranks again, just to frighten or amuse the children till 
 he has all in readiness for them. He is full of tricks.' 
 
 The agent did not seem satisfied with the lady's explanation. 
 He continued with haste and impatience to force his way to 
 the door ; he drove his body between the snarling mission 
 woman and snapping Scripture reader, thrust the children 
 aside with roughness, and only turned to beckon to his aid 
 the churchwarden Jukes. ' Here ! your burly help ! ' 
 
 Then a tall boy, with a blue ribbon in his buttonhole, came 
 round the corner. 
 
 'Please ! I've climbed up into the window, and looked in.' 
 
 ' Well, and what have you seen ? ' asked Physic, almost 
 fiercely. 
 
 ' Please, sir, the captain is lying on the floor.' 
 
 ' Here ! ' he hastily signed to Jukes, and drove his shoulder 
 against the door. ' Stand off, you young hounds ! ' he said, 
 and kicked the boys away. 'Clear from this, will you? 
 School-master, call off your cubs.' 
 
 Then Jukes came to his aid, and drove his great muscular 
 shoulder against the door, burst it open, and was within the 
 bungalow next moment along with Physic, and a motley 
 throng of school-children, monitors, visitors, Scripture reader, 
 mission woman, sidesmen, all pressing and jamming one 
 another in the door, in their eagerness to see whatever was to 
 be seen. 
 
 "What was to be seen was Captain Curgenven's body on the 
 floor. He had blown out his brains. The explosion had set 
 some of the machinery in motion — a parrot was swinging on a 
 perch, opening and shutting its beak ; a little Mr. Gladstone 
 was chopping at a tree ; a mill was turning its wheel and 
 pattering hammers on a piece of glass. 
 
 The rector was coming along leisurely, and with dignity, 
 when the second churchwarden rushed up to him with — 
 
 c
 
 18 MRS. CriMiKNVEN. 
 
 * Lord, sir ! the capi.-iin has shot himself !' 
 
 The rector stood still Ear a, moment, gasped, and said — 
 
 • Good heavens 1 what will people say 1 ' 
 
 Then from the church tower burst forth the merry peal of 
 bells, for the men by this time had wetted the palms of their 
 hands. The old ivied tower reeled with the vibration, and 
 was as though it laughed and staggered in its laughter over 
 the changes and chances of the mortal life of foolish men. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN THE TRAP. 
 
 Mr. Physic was driving towards his home along the high- 
 road ; his face was troubled, for his mind was in agitation. 
 He had managed the Curgenven property for the captain ever 
 since the latter had succeeded to the estate, and the captain 
 had left it pretty much in his hands to do with it what he 
 liked. Spasmodically, at long intervals, Lamhert Curgenven 
 had declared he would go into the accounts, overhaul the 
 vouchers, and satisfy himself that everything was us it should 
 be. He had not only made this declaration, he had begun to 
 carry it out, but the captain had not a clear business head. 
 Figures puzzled him. He had not application except for what 
 particularly interested him. He screwed down his attention 
 to the completion of an ingenious toy, but could never induce 
 his mind to fix itself on the financial condition of his estate. 
 Consequently Mr. Physic had had an uncontrolled management 
 of the revenues of the Curgenven property. 
 
 Now the captain was dead, and the agent did not know who 
 would succeed him. If the property came to a man of business 
 haliits and of a practical bent, then it was possible that Mr. 
 Physic's management would be brought to an abrupt termin- 
 ation. It was even possible that he might be called to task 
 for certain matters connected with the management. And 
 the danger menacing him was that mistrust of his judgment 
 and Btraightforwa.rdne.ss might spread. It may he said that 
 it was almost certain to spread from one squire who employed
 
 IN THE TRAP. 19 
 
 him to another, and the agency of more properties than 
 Curgenven might be taken from him. 
 
 Mr. Physic screwed his brows together into one great knot 
 over the root of his nose, and pursed up his lips as though 
 endeavouring to adapt them to the utterance of a whistle. 
 
 The evening was beautiful, and the soft twilight hung over 
 the hills like a delicate blush. But Mr. Physic had no eye for 
 beauty, he did not even turn his eyes on the ridges that caught 
 the glow, but they did fasten with interest on a figure walking 
 along the road before him. He touched the cob with his whip, 
 and shook the rein. The beast quickened its pace, and when 
 the solicitor had reached the pedestrian, he drew up and said, 
 'Madam, may I offer you a lift? You are too late for the 
 coach ; she has passed the turn already, and there is not 
 another till five minutes to this moment to-morrow evening. 
 She leaves Liskeard at 8 a.m. in an opposite direction. I 
 presume it is to Liskeard you want to go ] ' 
 
 ' I am really too late 1 ' 
 
 ' Really — by five minutes. You must absolutely take my 
 offer, or walk four miles in the dark. I won't say that our 
 roads are infested with banditti, for, thank the powers, we are 
 not in Italy or Spain, or Sicily or Greece, but four miles at 
 night are — well — nine miles too many.' 
 
 The person addressed stood still and considered what was to 
 be done. 
 
 ' I thank you. I accept your kind offer.' 
 
 Mr. Physic extended his hand to assist the lady to mount. 
 He studied her face with the advantage he had of being on a 
 higher level, when she was engaged in planting her foot on the 
 step and drawing her skirt to her from contact with the wheel. 
 
 The face was striking. It was handsome, the skin olive, 
 delicate, and soft. The hair was so dark, that in the twilight 
 it looked black. Probably, when the sun was on it, some 
 colour might be found in it to redeem it from being really 
 sable. The lady's age was undefinable. She was not a girl, 
 but was in that debatable period which intervenes between 
 youth and age, in which there is still roundness of feature, 
 smoothness of skin ; in which there is something superadded 
 to the loveliness of girlhood, the lines and angles that give 
 character to a face, a something different in kind from the 
 simplicity of youth, a something that is also beautiful, and 
 beautiful in a higher degree. In the girl is possibility, in the 
 woman performance. 
 
 Suddenly, as the lady reached the seat, she turned and
 
 20 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 caught his inquiring or inquisitive eyes, and flashed them 
 down. Physio hastily lashed the cob and drove on. 
 
 Thou a slight pause ensued. Neither knew what to i>ay. 
 She, of course, desired to know who had offered her a seat by 
 him, but could not ask the question. He was beating about 
 in his mind how to extract from her the information he was 
 resolved to obtain. Presently he turned his eyes furtively 
 towards her, and said — 
 
 ' I have the honour to address Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 ' But not Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven 1 ' he sniggered, as 
 he thought how the lady who arrogated to herself that title 
 h;td put him down, and how that now he had the opportunity 
 of turning the tables on her. 
 
 The lady at his side made no reply. He continued: 'I 
 have just come from Curgenven. I am the agent for the 
 estate. I am the solicitor whom Captain Curgenven has 
 always employed, and who has been in his confidence.' He laid 
 great stress on the last words. Then, after a pause, he added, 
 1 in all matters ' — these words in what was intended as an aside. 
 
 She took no apparent notice of what he said. After another 
 pause he went on : ' I have just come from Curgenven, as I 
 told you. There is a queer kettle of fish stewing there.' 
 
 She still maintained her reserve and said nothing. 
 
 'A queer kettle. A particularly queer kottle, thanks to 
 your appearing.' 
 
 ' No thanks to me,' said the lady shortly. 
 
 'Ton my word, that's good! Oh, dear, no !— no thanks 
 from any one. But you had a right there, and showed that 
 you would maintain it.' 
 
 Again he was met with silence. He pressed his lips together 
 and spitefully lashed the cob, then drew the rein. He did not 
 desire to arrive at Liskeard before the ice was broken between 
 them, and some confidence had been established. 
 
 To beat about was profitless, he rushed headforemost at the 
 matter now. 
 
 ' I know all about it — that marriage at Naples and that 
 other affair at Malta.' 
 
 ■ What other affair 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh 1 1 know.' 
 
 ' I beg you will be explicit.' 
 
 • \\ hist ! you made a clenn bolt of it.' 
 
 ' I left Malta. I was obliged to.' 
 
 'Oh — yes, obliyed.'
 
 IN THE TRAP. 21 
 
 She turned sharply round on him. ' Yes — obliged. What 
 do you mean by that sneer 1 ' 
 
 ' Did I sneer 1 Oh, dear, I know nothing but what I have 
 been told, you know. I have heard only the captain's 
 story.' 
 
 ' And what is his story ? ' 
 
 The agent chuckled to himself. He had unlocked her lips 
 by attacking her. 
 
 ' You may not like it. Tell me yours.' 
 
 ' Not yet, I must know what he has said about me.' 
 
 Mr. Physic shook his head. 
 
 ' You would perhaps kick out and swear ; and you know 
 the captain is dead 1 ' 
 
 ' Dead ! ' 
 
 She put her hand on the rein and arrested the horse. 
 
 1 Not dead ? ' 
 
 1 Yes — he has shot himself.' 
 
 The horse was at a stand. He could hear her pant for 
 breath ; he could feel, almost hear, the bounding of her pulses 
 at his side. 
 
 ' What else could he do,' asked the agent, ' when the first 
 wife turned up whom he had supposed dead 1 ' 
 
 ' Let me get out ! I cannot breathe ! I must be alone ! ' 
 
 She put her left hand to the rail, and stretched her right 
 hand to the splash-board to raise herself, but sank back on 
 her seat again. 
 
 ' You cannot get out. Nonsense, I will not allow it,' said 
 the solicitor. ' You are not in a fit condition to be left alone.' 
 He whipped the cob, and the gig was again rolling along. 
 
 Mr. Physic respected the agitation that had been produced 
 by the startling announcement, and said nothing for full ten 
 minutes. Then all at once the lady at his side drew a deep 
 breath and said, ' I suppose so — he could do naught else. 
 Sooner or later it must have been so.' 
 
 ' He put himself in the wrong box altogether. Unless he 
 had been sure — unless he had positive proof of your death, he 
 ought not to have married.' 
 
 She was breathing heavily and painfully. 
 
 ' If he couldn't get that, he should have sued for — but never 
 mind that. Why, if you were to turn up, did you not turn 
 up before ? ' 
 
 'I have made mistakes.' She spoke in a subdued tone ; her 
 chin was resting on her bosom, and she was looking steadily, 
 but with a dazed eye, before her at the trotting horse.
 
 22 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' A good many,' said Physic. 
 
 She said nothing to this, but continued to look broodingly 
 before her. 
 
 They were approaching the town, and the agent had not 
 learned much ; he became impatient. 
 
 ' Now look here,' said he. ' Why have you remained 
 latent, so to speak, for nineteen years, and have only now 
 turned up 1 ' 
 
 1 1 — we did not agree. We neither loved nor cared for 
 each other. We were best apart.' 
 
 ■ Where have you been 1 ' 
 
 ' On the stage — on concei't boards — everywhere.' 
 
 ' And why do you turn up now 'I ' 
 
 1 1 am weary of it. Weary, weary — sick to death.' 
 
 'And so you came to Curgenven for a home?' 
 
 ' I came that some settlement might be arrived at.' 
 
 1 Rather late in the day.' 
 
 • Till I began to inquire, I did not know where Lambert 
 was. I did not know that he had come into a fortune. 
 When we married he was poor, and had no prospects save in 
 his profession, and they were not worth much.' 
 
 ' Yes ; he left the navy without having wrecked a vessel or 
 provoked a mutiny. We may be thankful for that. The 
 property came to him in the nick of time, when he was under 
 a cloud. He had done some rash and stupid thing — in China, 
 I think — against orders, and there would have been a court- 
 martial had he not resigned. The property was .something to 
 resign on.' 
 
 'I knew nothing about that. We parted at Malta.' 
 
 4 Yes, and then you made a clean bolt.' 
 
 ' I was obliged. I was left without means. Lambert had 
 forwarded nothing.' 
 
 1 But there was the Marchese.' 
 
 She flared up into towering wrath. She turned on him, 
 snatched the reins from his hand, and brought the loop down 
 across his knuckles. 
 
 ' How dare you insult me ! Let me get out ! J will not stay ! ' 
 
 She drew the horse up short ; it had dashed ahead when it 
 heard the cut of the reins and felt the jerk. She rose and 
 would have left the gig, but Mr. Physic held her arm. 
 
 ' Don't be foolish. Remember I know only the one side, 
 and you asked me for that.' 
 
 ' Is that the side ? Did Lambert dare ? If so, I am glad 
 he is dead. Look here ! ' she was standing in the gig, and she
 
 m THE TRAP. 23 
 
 turned, holding the splash-board with one hand. ' Look here ! 
 Had he dared to give his side — his side indeed ! — in my hear- 
 ing I would have shot him myself.' 
 
 ' Demortuis — you know the saying. Sit down and be easy.' 
 The agent assumed a coaxing tone. ' I know nothing but 
 what I've been told, and I've been told, I'll be sworn, a pack 
 of lies.' 
 
 She reseated herself angrily. 
 
 1 Go on,' she said. ' Tell me all ; I must hear it. What 
 did he say about the Marchese 1 ' 
 
 ' No, thank you, not if I know it,' answered Physic, with 
 an attempt to assume a comical air. ' After such a tingling 
 rap over the knuckles I won't risk it. I'll tell you nothing 
 myself till the tingle is gone out of them. So you came 
 here to patch up a truce, and extort a settlement, I 
 understand 1 ' 
 
 1 When I learned where Lambert was, and that he had 
 inherited a fortune, I resolved to see him once more and 
 demand of him some arrangement by which I might be able to 
 live quietly and without being driven from pillar to post, an 
 arrangement that would save me from being always struggling 
 against difficulties. I did not desire much. I did not know, 
 till I came to Liskeard, that he had married again.' 
 
 ' Why did you remain lost so long, and allow him to make 
 such a mistake 1 ' 
 
 ' I have told you. We could not agree. I have — do you 
 know it ] — wild blood in me, and that made me restless. I 
 have been about in the States, in Canada. I was for a while 
 in California, and on the boards at Frisco. I came back to 
 England. I might have been married again and again, but I 
 knew I could not. Though we saw nothing of each other, 
 knew no more of each other, we were still bound to each other. 
 Why did he marry ? ' 
 
 ' There, I allow, he acted foolishly.' 
 
 'He acted wrongly,' said the lady, with vehemence. 'But 
 he is dead, and no more against him. I was to blame. I 
 should have let him know where I was, and what I was doing. 
 I was proud, and nourished my resentment, and I never cared 
 to inquire about him and learn anything about him. I was 
 driven at last to swallow my pride and smother my resent- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' How so 1 ' 
 
 ' I had a long illness. I came to great poverty. My voice 
 failed me, and I was weary, deadly weary, of the wandering,
 
 24 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 life, and the ups and downs — mostly downs — which made up 
 that sort of existence. You see,' she flashed up into vehe- 
 mence again, ' I have a double nature — one by birth, one by 
 training. Born of a roving stock, bred to the quiet domestic 
 life, for a while blood prevailed, and then culture provoked in 
 me a great hunger for rest, for stability, for security. I came 
 here — and he is dead ! What now? ' 
 
 ' Aye ! that is just what I am asking. What now 1 ' 
 
 They were approaching the country town ; a few detached 
 villa residences occupied patches of land beside the road, but 
 they were not many. Liskeard is not a place to which per- 
 sons with independent means were much attracted. Suddenly, 
 from over the garden railings of one of these, bounced a 
 flaming globe that flared at the head of the horse, touched it, 
 and sent the cob bounding in mad tenor to the further side 
 of the road, and before Mr. Physic was aware and prepared, 
 had run into the hedge and was dashing at it, plunging, 
 rearing to escape the volume of flame that had been tossed in 
 the air and was now flickering in the road. The rein snapped 
 when Physic endeavoured to master the frightened brute, and 
 all control over it was lost. 
 
 The cob, regardless of everything save its own safety, ran 
 the wheel of the dogcart up the hedge ; the shafts snapped as 
 matches, and the trap was thrown over, together with those 
 in it, with violence, so that the agent and the lady fell in the 
 roadway. 
 
 In the moment of falling Physic heard a man's voice say, 
 1 There, Justinian, you've gone and done it ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NAPLES AND MALTA. 
 
 Lambert Curoenven had been a third son, with small pros- 
 pect of succession to the family estate ; so small, that no Jews 
 would lend him money on it. 
 
 The eldest son and heir was married and had a child, a boy. 
 But the eldest son was only eldest son to a second son. The 
 head of the family was Justinian Curgenven, an old bachelor,
 
 NAPLES AND MALTA. 25 
 
 and an old bachelor might marry in a fit of folly, and, after 
 all, leave a child to inherit his acres. But the eldest son of 
 the second son broke his neck in hunting. Soon after that 
 the second son of the squire's brother fell a victim to cholera 
 in India. Then the child died of croup, and finally Justinian, 
 the squire, died of gout, and to no one's greater surprise and 
 satisfaction than that of Lambert, Curgenven fell to his lot. 
 It enabled him to retire from the navy at a moment when his 
 remaining in it would have been inconvenient. He had 
 been in command of a vessel in the China seas and had 
 disregarded orders. He had landed the blue-jackets and 
 had attacked and taken a fort, contrary to instructions, and 
 a court-martial seemed inevitable. He had escaped it by 
 resignation. 
 
 He left the navy and came to take possession of Curgenven. 
 He was an amiable scatter-brain, liked and laughed at by all 
 who knew him. 
 
 After a short while he proposed to and married the rector's 
 daughter. Before doing this, however, he consulted Mr. 
 Physic, and the substance of his communication was as follows. 
 It must be premised that Captain Lambert was not able to 
 tell any story, least of all his own, in consecutive form. 
 Times, places, persons, incidents were tumbled out of his 
 memory in confusion ; but with some pains Physic was able 
 to reduce them to order. 
 
 When he was lieutenant on board H.M.S. the Catamount, 
 he was stationed for a while off Naples. The officers had 
 given an entertainment on board, a dance, to those English, 
 Americans, and Neapolitans who had shown them civilities 
 and had invited them to dinner or to picnics on shore. At this 
 dance there had been present an old lady, a Mrs. Fenton, 
 with her adopted daughter, and the girl, aged but sixteen, 
 was known as Miss Theresa Fenton. She was a handsome, 
 dark-eyed, dark-haired girl, and she did not lack partners that 
 evening. Lieutenant Curgenven took her to supper, and 
 managed to secure three dances with her, whereas no other 
 officer got more than one. In returning by boat from the 
 vessel, Mrs. Fenton took a chill that brought on Neapolitan 
 fever, and within a week she was dead. 
 
 The position of the girl, whose name was Theresa, was now 
 a difficult one and eminently uncertain. Her protectress had 
 enjoyed an annuity, and left nothing to Theresa, having had 
 nothing to leave. The relatives of this lady in England had 
 never regarded the girl with a favourable eye. They said that
 
 26 MRS. CURGENVEX. 
 
 Mrs. Fenton had picked her out of the gutter, and to the 
 gutter she was welcome to return. They informed Theresa 
 that there was nothing for her, and she must shift for herself. 
 A suit of mourning they would graciously allow her, if it did 
 not exceed a stipulated sum, and they reluctantly consented 
 to p;iy her bill at the hotel-pension to the end of the month, 
 i.e. for three weeks after the death of Mrs. Fenton. They 
 further intimated to her that it would be advisable if, for the 
 future, she discontinued calling herself Miss Kenton, and were 
 to employ the name which properly belonged to her, which 
 they believed was Warren. 
 
 This conduct of the relatives of the deceased lady was much 
 commented on by those who were en pension at the hotel, as 
 well as by such English as had made the acquaintance of Mrs. 
 Fenton and her adopted daughter. They professed to feel 
 very strongly on the subject ; but though there was depth in 
 their feeling on the cruelty of leaving a young girl unprovided 
 for, it did not reach the depths of their pockets. 
 
 It was agreed on all sides that the Fenton family had 
 behaved abominably, and they could not have ventured to 
 behave in such a mean manner had the event taken place in 
 England, under the observation of a censorious neighbourhood. 
 
 But, precisely for the same reason, thoso visitors who were 
 in Naples endeavoured to emancipate themselves from respon- 
 sibility in the girl. They were but visitors, birds of passage, 
 and had taken only a passing interest in the orphan. Some- 
 thing, however, had to be done, and done at the least possible 
 cost to themselves. As the Fenton family declined to be 
 saddled with her, she must be saddled on some one else. 
 
 Lieutenant Curgenven was both amiable and soft, and, in 
 addition, was much struck with Theresa's charms. The entire 
 English and American community resolved that he must 
 marry her. 
 
 He himself was half willing, and was cajoled, and flattered 
 into declaring himself ready to be her champion. The entire 
 English and American community breathed long respirations 
 of relief when Lambert Curgenven married the girl ; it was 
 no concern of theirs that he had not in the least considered 
 how he was to maintain her after they were married. 
 
 The Anglo-American community at Naples provided the 
 wedding-breakfast, but then it also helped to consume it, and 
 the community thanked its good luck that it had come off so 
 cheap. The breakfast, cost each subscriber fifteen liras, wine 
 included. When next the subscribers attended the Embassy
 
 NAPLES AND MALTA. 27 
 
 chapel, and heard about laying up store in heaven, they 
 smirked with satisfaction at the knowledge that they had 
 each fifteen liras laid up in the unassailable treasury above. 
 
 Moreover, all the subscribers to the wedding-breakfast took 
 out the change over and above what they had consumed in 
 comment on the conduct of those persons who had left Naples 
 precipitately for Rome, it was believed to escape the subscrip- 
 tion-list that was being talked of in aid of the destitute young 
 lady. 
 
 After the marriage, a month passed happily enough, and 
 then Lambert Curgenven awoke to the fact that he was 
 obliged to maintain his wife, and that his lieutenant's pay 
 was insufficient for the purpose. He had a little money of 
 his own, very little, and having been a thriftless young fellow, 
 putting his hand into his pocket when he ought to have kept 
 it out, the small sum he had was expended, and he must wait 
 till his new quarterage came before he could pay his wife's 
 pension in the hotel. He then insisted on her moving to 
 lodgings, which would be less expensive. She consented, but 
 in the lodgings ready-money was required, and ready-money 
 Lambert Curgenven had not got. A certain Neapolitan 
 Marchese offered to relieve him of immediate embarrassment 
 by a loan, and Lieutenant Curgenven at once accepted the 
 offer, though he knew that this Marchese Gioberti had been 
 a great admirer of Theresa, and had paid her assiduous 
 court. 
 
 Then ensued scenes of mutual recrimination. Lambert was 
 chafed because he could not repay his loan, annoyed because 
 Gioberti called at the lodgings that had been taken for 
 Theresa, was inclined to quarrel with the Marchese, but could 
 not afford to do so owing to his debt, and consequently 
 vented his ill-humour on his wife, wanting her to forbid the 
 Marchese the house, when he ought to have done so himself. 
 
 Theresa, young and inexperienced, was offended at her 
 husband's jealousy, resented his humours, and complained at 
 the straits to which she was reduced for lack of necessaries. 
 She could not understand her husband's pecuniary embarrass- 
 ment, and made no allowance for his harassed temper. She 
 had not had her heart touched by him, and his affection for 
 her ha;' been of a very flimsy and ephemeral quality. 
 
 Then the Catamount was ordered to Malta, and Lambert 
 ordered his wife thither also, and was mightily relieved in 
 mind that the Marchese was left behind. He solemnly 
 promised to repay the loan within a twelvemonth, but at the
 
 28 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 same time felt a qualm in his conscience, for, if he did repay 
 the sum, there would be nothing left for the maintenance of 
 Theresa, 
 
 The marriage had been announced by him to his uncle the 
 squire, Justinian Curgenven, and Justinian had acknowledged 
 the tidings in churlish fashion. He had told Lambert he was 
 a fool to marry a girl without a penny, and fissured him thai 
 if he looked to him for assistance, should a family arrive, or 
 any other embarrassments arise consequent on this step, he 
 would look in vain. He had a pick of otter hounds, and 
 otter hounds cost him all his loose cash, and gave him 
 pleasure, whereas a pack of grand-nephews and nieces would 
 and could afford him nothing save annoyance. 
 
 On reaching Malta all went smoothly for a while, till at the 
 hotel where Theresa was the landlord became importunate for 
 payment. With his usual carelessness Lambert on arriving 
 in Malta had cast his troubles behind him, and had not given 
 a thought to the future. His good-humour had returned, and 
 Theresa found him an agreeable companion when he came on 
 shore. But no sooner did the straitness of his means begin 
 again to vex him, than he became peevish and uncertain in 
 his mood, ready to take umbrage at trifles, to charge his wife 
 with extravagance if she bought a pin, and to allow himself 
 to order a hamper of champagne when out for a jaunt with 
 friends to Gozo. When the beauty and youth of his wife 
 made her the queen of a swarm of admiring officers, Lambert 
 Curgenven became jealous, and yet he allowed himself to flirt 
 with whatever pretty girl there was in Malta. Matters were 
 soon across again between the pair, and when all at once the 
 Marchese Gioberti appeared in the island, the jealousy of 
 Lambert blazed forth, and a violent scene ensued between 
 husband and wife. He ordered her immediately to go to 
 England. She demanded the money which would enable her 
 to return, and some arrangements to be made for her main- 
 tenance in England. As Lieutenant Curgenven could not 
 furnish the money, and had not thought of where and how 
 she was to live in England, he stormed to cover his retreat. 
 After this they hardly met without a fresh quarrel. 
 
 The unsatisfactory condition of affairs was not a secret. 
 The captain in command of the Catamount saw that before 
 long Lieutenant Curgenven's pecuniary difficulties would 
 cause a scandal, and a hint to the admiral in command of the 
 Mediterranean fleet sufficed to obtain Lambert's recall to 
 England, and appointment to the Wagtail, on the Pacific station.
 
 NAPLES AND MALTA. 29 
 
 Then all communication between Lieutenant Curgenven and 
 his wife came to an end. He did not send her any money, 
 because he had none to send, and he did not write, because he 
 could not enclose a cheque in his letter. When he did hear 
 from Malta, it was that Theresa had disappeared, and as the 
 Marchese Gioberti had left at or about the same time, it was 
 concluded that they had departed together. 
 
 This was quite sufficient for Lambert Curgenven to make 
 him declare that he washed his hands of the whole business, 
 and feel that he need no longer concern himself about his wife 
 or his debt. He need not remit money to the woman who 
 had been false to him, and he need not concern himself with 
 an obligation to a man who had defrauded him of his wife. 
 Lieutenant Curgenven had an easy conscience, and he readily 
 convinced himself that matters stood as it best suited his 
 purse that they should stand. 
 
 He spent some months in the China seas, and obtained a 
 commandership, and finally blundered into committing a 
 gallant act which he was not authorized to commit, and 
 which was done in contravention of orders. Then he retired, 
 and, as already stated, retired to the position of a country 
 squire. He had been unlucky through the early part of his 
 career, he hoped that now luck had turned, and was favouring 
 him. 
 
 When he had settled himself into Curgenven, he found it 
 dull to be solitary, and, as he said, Scripture assured him it 
 was not good for a man to be alone, so he proposed to Miss 
 Pamphlet, a handsome, taking girl, the daughter of the rector 
 of his parish, and was of course accepted. 
 
 Then, when he had been accepted, he began to consider 
 whether there was any impediment in the way to marriage, 
 and he thought that possibly that matter of his previous 
 union with Theresa Fenton in marriage ought to have been 
 formally dissolved by the Divorce Court, or informally by the 
 act of Providence in removing that lady. He spoke of the 
 matter in a rambling, casual manner to Mr. Physic, and asked 
 his opinion. 
 
 The solicitor's opinion was that some very decided evidence 
 of the death of Theresa should be obtained ,and if that was 
 not available, then such evidence should be collected as would 
 justify an action in the Divorce Court. To this latter Captain 
 Curgenven objected that it was no use ripping up old sores, 
 and, further, that it would be expensive. 
 
 Moreover, argued Lambert Curgenven, he did not know
 
 30 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 whether Mr. Pamphlet might not interpose and forhid the 
 marriage if any ugly stories were about and discussed, 
 especially if they got into the papers, as divorce cases always 
 do, and for his part, he was inclined to take for granted that 
 Theresa was de.ul. He did write to Malta, and he empowered 
 Physic to spend a hundred pounds in inquiries, but he me 
 not prepared bo throw away more. He professed himself to 
 be morally certain that Theresa was dead. ' If she were not 
 dead,' he argued, 'she would have rounded on him for money 
 long ere this, especially when she learned that he had come in 
 for a property. But not a word of her, or from her, had 
 reached him since she left Malta along with that confounded 
 Marchese.' That she had departed with the Marchese was a 
 fixed idea in the head of Captain Curgenven. When he spoke 
 to Physic of the disappearance of his wife, he spoke of it in 
 association with the Marchese as a certain fact, without telling 
 him that he had no further grounds for such an assertion 
 than Maltese gossip. 
 
 Physic instituted inquiries in Italy, and ascertained that 
 Gioberti was dead. He had died three years before, and no 
 one in the family, as far as Physic could discover, knew, or 
 would admit they knew, anything about Theresa. Gioberti, 
 though a marquis, was without landed estates, and lived a 
 rambling coffee house life ; he was said to have gone to 
 Naples, and then to Malta, because he had delicate lungs and 
 rheumatism. 
 
 Mr. Physic, after having spent forty pounds on researches, 
 and paid himself sixty for instituting the researches, was 
 obliged to admit to Captain Curgenven that his inquiries had 
 produced absolutely no results. Theresa had not been traced. 
 Presumably she was dead ; but not a scrap of evidence of 
 either her death or her infidelity had been discovered. ' Very 
 well, then,' said Captain Lambert, 'you shut your mouth 
 like a sensible man and say nothing. We will chance it. 
 I am as morally certain that she is dead, as I am that I am a 
 good fellow.' 
 
 It must be allowed that when Captain Curgenven told his 
 story, or rather tumbled out the contents of his memory- 
 liasket before Physic, he did not lay all the blame on Theresa, 
 but allowed that there had been fault on his side. 'But, bless 
 me !' said he* ' what can you expect of a man when he is at 
 his wits' ends for money? He can't be in a good humour, can 
 he, Physic 1 I put it to you.' 
 
 Although he did admit that he had been to blame, he let
 
 IN THE PILL-BOX. 31 
 
 the agent clearly understand that his blameworthiness was 
 excusable, forced on him by circumstances ; whereas the fault 
 in Theresa was quite inexcusable, and was due to natural 
 perversity or depravity — call it what you will. ' Then again, 
 Physic, those people at Naples took a tremendous interest 
 in us, and had made up their minds that we should marry. 
 I was a young chap and easily persuaded. So I could not do 
 otherwise. I put it to you. You are a man who knows the 
 world.' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN THE PILL-BOX. 
 
 ' There, Justinian ! now you've gone and done it ! ' 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven strode through bis garden, there 
 was not space in it for him to get up a run, and, leaning his 
 elbows on the breasting of stone in which were fixed the rails 
 that cut him off from the road, he looked between the bars, 
 and said, ' By George, Justinian ! you've gone and killed one 
 or two ! It's a case of manslaughter against you, and penal 
 servitude.' 
 
 Looking a little more attentively in the dusk he distinguished 
 the figures in the road — Physic struggling to his feet, the lady 
 motionless. Then he exclaimed, ' By George, my boy ! it's a 
 bad job — confound your fire-ballooning ! ' He threw open 
 the gate and ran out to lend assistance. 
 
 The cob had dashed along the highway with the broken 
 shafts and the rein dangling from him. The dog-cart lay a 
 mass of chips on one side. Mr. Percival Curgenven did not 
 give it a thought. 
 
 ' I'll bring an action against you,' cried Physic, reaching 
 his feet. ' What infernal pranks — Oh ! I beg pardon a 
 thousand times. Mr. Percival, you don't mean to say it is 
 you?' 
 
 ' That boy of mine has been letting off a fire-balloon,' 
 said Mr. Cui'genven, ' but never mind that. Is the lady 
 hurt 1 ' 
 
 ' Hurt — of course she's hurt. How could it be otherwise 1
 
 32 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 I i miracle I'm not killed. Fetch a light, and let's Bee whai 
 is the matter with her.' 
 
 ' Hero's the remains of this darned fire-balloon flickering in 
 the hedge,' said Mr. Percival Curgenven, wrapping his silk 
 handkerchief round his fingers and laying hold of a wire con- 
 nected with a flaming sponge saturated in spirits of wine, and 
 which was all that remained of the ill-fated fire-balloon. 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven brought this over to where the lady 
 lay unconscious in the road. 
 
 1 I hope her neck is not broken,' said this gentleman, ' partly 
 for your sake, Justin, and partly for hers.' 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven knelt by the prostrate woman and 
 passed the flaming tow to and fro above her face. The eyes 
 w.iv rinsed, but not shut, and the light was reflected through 
 the eyelashes. 
 
 ' Why — who the deuce ! — she's very like — but here, Justin, 
 lend a hand, and, Physic, you also, if not broken to bits. 
 We must not leave her in the road, but carry her into the 
 Pill-box.' 
 
 The Pill-box was Mr. P. Curgenven's residence in the 
 suburbs of Liskeard. It was a small — a ridiculously small 
 villa. The former occupier of this house had been pleased to 
 call it ' The Court,' and to have his letters addressed to him as 
 a resident at ' The Court, Liskeard.' 
 
 When he departed, owing to the inability of the bankers to 
 honour his cheques, Mr. Percival Curgenven had taken the 
 house. 
 
 Said he. in his dry fashion, ' I don't see why a house any more 
 than a beast should take its title from its least noble part. 
 The rattlesnake and the wagtail are exceptions in the realm 
 of animals. The back-yard, that measures twelve feet by ten, 
 is the only court this house can speak of, and we had better 
 say nothing about it. So I shall call it the "Pill-box" ; then 
 every one will understand that it is small, and that its owner 
 has had something to do with medicine. I don't see the fun 
 in lodges that lead to nothing, in granges that have not even 
 a barn or outhouse attached to them, and in halls where there 
 is hardly room to turn round in the passage. ' 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven was a cousin of Mr. Lambert, and 
 possessed some of the family fatality of making a muddle of 
 life. He had been educated as a surgeon, and had walked the 
 hospitals and bought a practice. Then, finding the practice 
 he had purchased had been spoiled by the man from whom he 
 bought it, by devotion to the bottle, he had been disgusted,
 
 IN THE PILL-BOX. 33 
 
 had lacked the patience and resolution to work it up again, 
 had thrown it up, had tried art, failed in that, and then had 
 rushed away to the Californian gold-fields, where he had indeed 
 found some nuggets, and raked together some gold-dust, but 
 he had allowed himself to be robbed of his nuggets, and had 
 let the gold-dust run away between his fingers till nothing 
 remained but fingers. 
 
 Then he returned to England in worse predicament than 
 when he went out ; for he went out a single man, he returned 
 a widower with a son. Consequently he had to feed two mouths 
 and clothe two backs instead of one. 
 
 Happily for him, his return to England coincided with the 
 accession of his cousin Lambert to Curgenven. The cousins 
 had been friends and play-fellows as boys, and Lambert was 
 determined to secure the presence in his neighbourhood of 
 a man of his own kidney, who had knocked about the world, 
 and was not stai-ched and heavy like the country squires of 
 the district, men who had hardly left their paternal acres, and 
 cared for little beyond board and bench business. In the 
 exuberance of his pleasure at seeing his cousin again, he under- 
 took to provide him with an income of a hundred and fifty 
 pounds per annum during his own life, on the sole condition 
 that Percival should live within nine miles of him. Lambert 
 had kept his word ; he had not been very punctual in his 
 quarterly payments, because he lacked the faculty of punc- 
 tuality. If a month elapsed after quarter-day and no cheque 
 had been received, Percival wrote and reminded him that he 
 had been forgotten, and in most cases Lambert expressed his 
 penitence at the oversight by adding a five or ten pounds to 
 the sum due. On one occasion, with his customary careless- 
 ness, he sent the cheque twice over, and when Percival returned 
 the second, Lambert refused to receive it back. He had made 
 a mistake, he said, and must abide by the consequences. The 
 only way in which he could teach himself business habits, he 
 said, was by making himself suffer for his errors. On a 
 hundred and fifty pounds, Mr. Percival was able to make both 
 ends meet. He had not expensive tastes, and his boy's education 
 made no great hole in the hundred and fifty pounds, for his 
 boy was given next to none. On the evening on which our 
 story opens, this son, Justinian, was engaged on letting off a 
 fire-balloon just as the dog-cart approached. He had summoned 
 his father from the smoking-room to witness the exhibition. 
 The balloon had been caught by the wind and swept over the 
 garden-wall, into the highway, just as the dog-cart came up. 
 
 D
 
 34 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 The wind had turned the globe over, the silver paper had 
 ignited, and the whole flaming mass had been carried against 
 the head of Mr. Physic's cob. It was enough to have frightened 
 a beast with cart-horse nerve ; it would have sent a shiver 
 down the back of even an earth-worm. 
 
 The unconscious woman was taken into the house, and laid 
 on the sofa in the diminutive parlour. 
 
 Mr. Percival with promptitude and skill examined her, and 
 then said, turning his head to Physic, who had thrown him- 
 self into an easy-chair to recover the effects of his fall and 
 shaking, ' The collar-bone is broken, and there is a slight con- 
 gestion of the brain.' 
 
 1 Indeed ! ' said the agent, who was groping about his own 
 limbs to discover if he were sound in every member. ' I suppose 
 I'm all right — but I don't know.' 
 
 ' Oh, you are not hurt. Where does she live 1 She must be 
 taken home.' 
 
 ' Live ! Lord, how am I to know 1 ' 
 
 ♦Who is she?' 
 
 Mr. Physic remained silent. To tell who she was would 
 entail too long a story. He was not sure whether Mr. Percival 
 had been taken into confidence by the squire relative to the 
 first marriage. 
 
 1 You know, Physic, I can't lodge her in the Pill-box. For 
 one thing there isn't room ; for another, 'twouldn't be proper. 
 Where does she hang out 1 ' 
 
 ' I'm blessed if I know.' 
 
 ' And you don't know who she is 1 That's awkward.' 
 
 ' I picked her up on the road. She was walking from Cur- 
 genven. I gave her a lift.' 
 
 1 And that is all you know about her ? By George ! this is 
 awkward. How can she be accommodated in the Pill-box t I'd 
 do anything right and kind to a poor devil — a she-one no less 
 than a he — but I can't, I haven't the space in which to be kind. 
 There ain't a spare bedroom in the box. I can't turn Justin 
 out, and send him to sleep in the pig-sty, for there isn't a pig- 
 sty to the place. I can't go out myself and let her have my 
 room — not very easily ; and as for that old beldame Bathsheba, 
 she'd make such a to-do if I proposed that the poor creature 
 should have her room and that she should go elsewhere, that I 
 wouldn't risk it. It's a confounded nuisance. We must find 
 out something about her, and where she lives. You don't even 
 know her name 1 ?' 
 
 Physic hesitated ; then said, ' It wouldn't do, would it, to
 
 IN THE PILL-BOX. 35 
 
 ask a lady who and what she was when you offered her a 
 lift ? ' 
 
 ' Is she a lady ? Well, I suppose so. I've seen her some- 
 where before, but, bless me — I don't know when.' 
 
 He took the lamp in his hand and went over to the 
 prostrate woman on the couch, and let the light fall on her 
 face. 
 
 At this moment she opened her eyes. 
 
 • Bless me ! ' exclaimed Percival, « it's La Lamberta ! Sig- 
 nora, do you remember me 1 ' 
 
 The lady, still dazed, and without the light of intelligence in 
 her large dark eyes, dropped her feet from the sofa and sat 
 upright. She tried to move her arm, and failed. This seemed 
 to puzzle her. 
 
 'No, my dear,' said Mr. Percival, 'very sorry, but you 
 cannot use that hand. I must strap you up ; you have got 
 broken bones, and must be put in such a condition that they 
 shall splice themselves. You will have to keep that arm 
 screwed to your bosom for some time to come. You've had a 
 bad spill, Signorina, and the road was hard. But you are in 
 good hands, I won't forget old times. Bless me ! don't you 
 remember me at Frisco, eh 1 ' 
 
 The large dark eyes of the lady rested on the speaker with 
 some inquiry in them, but not much. She was not sufficiently 
 recovered from the jar of the fall to have her senses at 
 command. 
 
 She, however, made no opposition to being treated by the 
 skilful hands of Mr. Percival. 
 
 ' Now look here, Physic, and you too, Justin. There is no 
 surgery in this little house. There wouldn't be room for one 
 if I wanted it. One passage, one sitting-room, one dining- 
 room, that serves also as smoking-room, as we give no dinner- 
 parties. That's all the accommodation we have on the first 
 floor. So, as I have to attend to this lady, you make yourselves 
 scarce. You, Physic, can pick up the chips of your dog-cart, 
 they are worth saving, they will make excellent kindling for 
 the fires at home, and Justinian shall run into the town and 
 find out what has become of the horse. I shan't be long.' 
 
 ' Why do you call her La Lamberta 1 ' asked Physic 
 inquisitively as he stood in the doorway. 
 
 'Because I knew her at Frisco as La Lamberta. Is not 
 that good reason 1 Come, I'm not going to answer questions 
 now, I must attend to my patient. Look sharp, or all the 
 chips will be carried off to light other fires than your own.'
 
 36 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 When the room was clear of the agent and Justin, Mr. 
 Percival Curgenven bound the lady's arm and strapped it to 
 her so that she could not move it. 
 
 ' Now tell me, where aro you staying 1 ? ' 
 
 4 At the milliner's, Miss Treise's.' 
 
 'Then, u soon as you can walk, I will escort you thither. 
 If you cannot walk, I will run for a cab.' 
 
 She stood up, took a step or two forward, turned giddy, and 
 was caught and led back to the sofa. 
 
 1 No — you cannot manage it. What is more, you must 
 remain here for an hour or so till you have recovered the fall 
 that has shaken you. Sit down, I will give you tea —I'll 
 make it directly. Do you remember me t ' 
 
 The dreamy eyes of the lady rested again upon him. Her 
 lips parted, but she did not speak. 
 
 • Well,' said Mr. Percival, ' you see my memory is better 
 than yours ; or, perhaps, I may flatter myself with thinking 
 that the spill has confused you, so that you do not remember 
 me just at this present moment.' 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven rang the bell. An old woman 
 with a grim face answered it. 
 
 ' Bathsheba,' said he, ' tea, at once. This lady is faint and 
 ill — thrown out of a carriage.' 
 
 The servant retired, muttering to herself. 
 
 'That's her way,' said Mr. Curgenveu. ' She's a good old 
 soul, nursed me when a baby, and takes advantage of this now 
 to be crusty and rude. But she means no harm, she loves me 
 as my soul, and Justinian a thousand times better than me. 
 Do you recollect the little Justinian 1 What, not at Frisco 1 
 We were in the same little hotel. Down on my luck there, the 
 poor wife ill, and how good and kind you were to her ! Now 
 do you recollect 1 You were La Lamberta then — what are you 
 now?' 
 
 Her eyes were intently fixed on him ; she was making an 
 effort to collect her scattered senses and recall the past. 
 
 ' Do you not remember 1 ' he continued ; ' you took my dear 
 wife's place in the theatre at San Francisco when she was ill. 
 You were staying in the same hotel with us. You laughed 
 when you heard what was the name of my boy. I don't 
 believe my wife ever properly recovered his birth, though he 
 was born two years before her last illness. But she battled 
 on, brave soul that she was, she would not give in, and I — I 
 was an ass, and earned nothing. You were so kind when she 
 was sick and worried and weak because unable to fulfil her
 
 AT THE MILLINER'S. 37 
 
 engagement. Poor dear! she was always hoping she would 
 pull through — she hoped to the end of the chapter. Do you 
 remember you said Justinian was too much of a name for such 
 a little chap as my boy 1 I said it was a family name, and 
 that was true. We called you Signora, or Signorina Lamberta, 
 but of course I knew you were no Italian. You were posted 
 all over the town as La Lamberta. Now, surely, you 
 remember ! What are you now 1 I mean, what is your real, 
 not your professional name. Not La Lamberta at Liskeard, I 
 take it.' 
 
 Then she said, ' I am Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 Mr. Percival stared, drew back a step, and studied her with 
 astonishment. He supposed that his patient had gone off her 
 head. 
 
 Then suddenly she clasped her hand — the only one she 
 could use — over her eyes, burst into tears, and sobbed, ' I am 
 very miserable. After nineteen years I see my husband — and 
 he shoots himself.' 
 
 • My dear Signora,' said Mr. Percival, ' here comes the tea. 
 You are gone clean crazed. Take that, and I will compound 
 something that shall compose your nerves. Mrs. Curgenven — 
 Mrs. Fiddlesticks 1 ' 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AT THE MILLINER'S. 
 
 A few days later, Theresa was seated in a little parlour 
 above the dressmaker's shop in Liskeard, where were her 
 lodgings. 
 
 This parlour of Miss Treise's was small, but the pattern on 
 the wall-paper was large and pretentious, one of those self- 
 assertive papers that cannot be kept in the background and 
 obscured by any amount of furniture and of decoration in a 
 room. There is effrontery in designs on paper and cretonne, 
 as there is in certain human faces. Two large body-coloured 
 pictures, one of Vesuvius quiescent, the other of Vesuvius in 
 eruption, were hung upon the walls. Neapolitan skies and 
 Mediterranean seas were exaggerated in blueness on the first,
 
 38 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 and the artist had done his utmost with vermilion and lemon- 
 yellow to produce an effect of fire in the second ; but these 
 pictures were modest and harmonious in tone compared with 
 the wall-paper, which seemed to jostle frames and pictures in 
 insoleut self-assertion. 
 
 On a sidelx)ard, under a glass bell that was cracked, stood a 
 stuffed gull, mangy with moth. The brown, empty cocoons 
 out of which the insects had hatched hung in the down, and 
 the moths themselves strewed the sanded has,... After having 
 been hatched out they had found themselves imprisoned under 
 the bell glass, and had perished there. Three papier-mache 
 heads of ladies, with very staring bluo eyes, pink cheeks, and 
 black hair, stood also on the chiffonier. They were blocks on 
 which Miss Treise tried bonnets, and submitted them to the 
 approval of customers. In one corner of the apartment was 
 a wicker work structure, something like that which we are 
 informed was employed by the Druids for enclosing human 
 victims to be burnt as sacrifices. This structure was, how- 
 ever, not intended for any other purpose than the shaping and 
 showing off of gowns, mantillas, Ac One whole corner of the 
 room was blocked off by a cheval glass, in which ladies might 
 admire themselves when costumed in the preparations of Miss 
 Treise's genius and dexterous hands. 
 
 There was, happily, no round table in the middle of the 
 apartment, so that it was practicable to move about 
 in it. 
 
 The little upper parlour of Miss Treise's was in fact her 
 show-room, and the room in which ladies were measured for 
 their garments, and were fitted, on fixed dates subsequent to 
 the measuring. 
 
 When Miss Treise let her spare bedroom, she allowed Theresa 
 the use of this parlour when not wanted ; specifying that 
 whenever a customer appeared, the lodger was to disappear 
 into her bedroom at the back, and not emerge from it again 
 to re-occupy the show-room till the customer had departed. 
 
 In this room, and in the window, sat Theresa. Her left 
 arm was bound across her bosom, the hand on a level with 
 the right shoulder. Her face was much paler than when she 
 had appeared on the terrace of Curgenven. It then bore the 
 impress of care, but now this expression was deepened. Pain 
 of body, distress of mind through grief over what had occurred, 
 and doubt as to the future, had conspired to make her look 
 wan and ill. There were traces of tears on her long dark 
 lashes, and the eyes were sunken. Her fine lips quivered as
 
 AT THE MILLINER'S. 39 
 
 she spoke. Theresa was a woman of strength and determin- 
 ation, but she was now shaken in mind as in body, and was 
 unnerved. With youth she had possessed confidence. She 
 had looked into the future without alarm, without asking what 
 it had in store for her, with that faith, that confidence in des- 
 tiny, that is given to youth, and this had imparted buoyancy 
 to her spirits and brightness to her manner. But youth was 
 past. Fortune had failed her. Fate had played her cruel 
 tricks. Health had declined, and now, at the moment when 
 she thought that she had reached a point at which uncertainty 
 might cease, by the suicide of Captain Curgenven all had be- 
 come as doubtful as before. 
 
 She had not been to the funeral that day. She could not 
 have gone had she purposed, for she felt that she was hardly 
 recovered sufficiently from her fall to bear the motion of a 
 vehicle, and, what was more, had not the money wherewith to 
 defray the hire of one. She had seen in the little local paper a 
 notice of the inquest, and had learned from it that the jury had 
 unanimously found that the death was accidental. How could 
 it be otherwise, when the squire had met with no pecuniary 
 losses, when he was more than usually cheerful, and intent on 
 amusing the Sunday-school children with his mechanical con- 
 trivances ; when he was blessed with the happiest family 
 concord 1 There were absolutely no grounds on which the 
 jury could suspect that the death was not accidental, and so 
 accordingly they adjudged it. The fact of Captain Curgenven 
 being son-in-law to the Reverend James Pamphlet was in itself 
 a guarantee that everything about him, his death included, was 
 correct, was respectable. 
 
 1 Now, ma'am,' said Miss Treise, in a tone sharp and high- 
 pitched, the reverse of that in which she addressed her 
 customers, on whom she cooed like a dove, ' Now, ma'am, I'm 
 exceeding sorry, but I can't help it. I'm particularly sorry 
 because of your accident, and I wouldn't for the world seem 
 cruel and unfeeling, and all that sort of thing ; but I'm 
 a lone unmarried lady, and lives by the work of my hands, 
 and can't afford it. If you'll be good enough to pay me 
 something, I'll try and be content. I can't be expected, 
 you know — me, an unmarried lady — to maintain you as well as 
 myself.' 
 
 ' I am distressed,' said Theresa, in a dead, dispirited tone. 
 ' I had a very small sum remaining, and 1 expected that it 
 would last till — till I had obtained what I came here for. I 
 have been disappointed '
 
 40 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Yes, ma'ain, I understand,' said Miss Treise shortly ; ■ came 
 begging and was refused, and I am to suffer. I thought, when 
 you looked at my rooms, as you was a real lady, and not one 
 of your so-to-speak sharpers.' 
 
 1 1 beg your pardon, I have been disappointed where I had 
 every confidence of success. I had in this neighbourhood 
 some one related to me by marriage, aud I thought he 
 would have provided for my future. He is dead. I have no 
 hope left.' 
 
 4 And I am to suffer ! It ain't in reason — it ain't fair. Give 
 me a reference. Say who it was. Tell me some one to whom 
 I can apply for certainty that I shall be paid in the end, aud 
 I'll put up with this a little longer.' 
 
 ' I can give you no name.' 
 
 'I don't believe a word of your story, then,' said Miss Treise. 
 ' It's all a make-up ; and if I hadn't Mr. Curgenven's assur- 
 ance, I should say the broken collar-bone was fudge also I ' 
 
 1 Then you will turn me out ! Well ' 
 
 'I only ask for some satisfaction that I shan't be cheated,' 
 said Miss Treise. 'Thinking as you was a lady born and bred, 
 I let my rooms, and very beautiful rooms they be ; and I've 
 taken in double portions of meat and loaves, and milk and 
 butter, and what not. There was a pot of marmalade — think- 
 ing you was a real lady — cost tenpence, we get at co-operative 
 store price for ready-money, and I paid tenpence for that there 
 marmalade, real Dundee, I did. You don't suppose as I 
 indulge myself in Dundee marmalade, do you? But as I 
 thought you was a real lady, and had money, I ordered it and 
 put it on the table at breakfast, and had two cup puddings 
 made out of it. I'm a lone unmarried lady, and obliged to 
 support myself. I'm now in black for my mother, my aged 
 parent, as was a cruel sufferer for many years, and the doctor's 
 bill was twenty-five pounds, and the funeral cost twelve pounds 
 ten-and-eightpence. You don't suppose I can pay thirty-seven 
 pounds ten-and-eightpence and have Dundee marmalade, do 
 you?' 
 
 ' I really am sorry.' 
 
 • Sorrow won't pay me/ pursued Miss Treise, who had worked 
 herself up into acutest asperity ; ' and there were soles I had of 
 the fish-cart, only Friday last, one-and-eight, thinking as you 
 was a real lady. If I hadn't, I'd have bought flounders, dabs ; 
 but being as I supposed a proper lady, I had soles. When am 1 
 to see my money again 1 ' 
 
 ' I did hope,' said Theresa, ' that if I were disappointed, I
 
 AT THE MILLINER'S. 41 
 
 might have worked out what I owed with my fingers. I am 
 natty and clever with them. But ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes ; but now you can't because of the collar-bone ; and 
 you suppose I'll keep you on till you're well, for the sake of 
 what you can do then 1 And who's to pay Mr. Curgenven ? ' 
 
 ' I do not think he will bring in a bill. I nursed his wife 
 once in San Francisco when she was very ill.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Miss Treise, and the roughness went out of her 
 voice. ' Oh, you know something of Mr. Curgenven, do you, 
 ma'am 1 You think he'll see that I'm not left unpaid ] ' 
 
 'Indeed, indeed!' said Theresa, flushing, 'I entreat you 
 say nothing about this to him. No ; he is not responsible 
 in any way for my debts. Here — take this gold watch and 
 chain. Take it off my neck ; I cannot well myself, because of 
 my disabled arm. And here, on my left hand, is the guard- 
 ring ; it has a ruby in it and is worth something. Take that 
 also, and raise what you can on the watch and chain and ring ; 
 they were given me by my husband when we married.' 
 
 1 Your husband ! Is he dead 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes ; dead ! ' 
 
 ' Been dead long 1 ' 
 
 ' He is dead. Take these articles. Here, pull this ring off ; 
 my hand is tied up and the fingers swollen with the straps. 
 You must pass a thread under it, and then wind the thread 
 round the finger beyond the ring. That will compress the 
 swelling and the ring will come off. What these articles will 
 bring in will pay you and leave something over till I am 
 better able to go, and then — I will go away.' 
 
 She looked dreamily out of the window. The thought came 
 up in her mind, whither should she go 1 
 
 ' Well, ma'am,' said Miss Treise, in a subdued voice, ' I really 
 wouldn't if I could help it. I always said you was a real lady, 
 and now I'm sure of it. We'll see what we can do with the 
 watch and the ring. Mr. Jope, the goldsmith, is a friend of 
 mine, a sort of cousin through my mother, and I know you 
 can trust him to do right by you, and give you what these 
 gee-gaws are really worth.' 
 
 She put her hand to her bosom — the milliner's pincushion — 
 and drew thence a threaded needle, which she passed under the 
 ring on the stiff finger of Theresa's left hand, and began to 
 wind the cotton about the finger. 
 
 Theresa thought, with a bitter sense in her heart, that she 
 was parting with the only things remaining to her of her 
 deceased husband's gifts, on the very day on which he was
 
 42 MBS. OURGENTBN. 
 
 commitu-d to the earth. She had never loved him never 
 really cared for him. His conduct doling the briei' period in 
 which they had been together had not been calculated to inspire 
 love, even regard. She had been a mere child when she took 
 him, and she took him in the moment of helplessness, when 
 she had no one else to look to for support ; but hardly had 
 she been united to him. before she found that he was the most 
 unstable of men, a creature of caprice, who had made no pre- 
 paration for her future, and who droppod her the moment his 
 opportunity for so doing came. She had not loved him — she 
 had not cared for him ; but now that he was dead she thought 
 of him with exceeding pity, and with regret that she should 
 have been unwittingly the means of shortening his days. No 
 doubt he had been guilty of a grave fault, and when this was 
 brought home to him by her reappearance, he did not know 
 how otherwise to escape the consequences than by putting 
 an end to himself. The fault was his, not hers ; yet she had 
 been the means of bringing the punishment down on him. 
 
 Whilst Miss Treise was engaged on Theresa's ring, and just 
 as she had exclaimed, ' Now it is on the move — it is sliding off 
 the finger 1 ' the door opened and Mr. Percival Curgenven came 
 in. He hail but just returned from the funeral, and was in 
 his black suit, with hat bound with crape, and had new black 
 kid gloves on his hands. 
 
 ' Excuse me running up,' said he, ' the girl said Miss Treise 
 was here. I've just seen my poor cousin gathered to his fathers, 
 and, by Jingo — but what aro you doing there to the Signora's 
 hand 1 Miss Treise, you are not meddling with the bandages, 
 I hope 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, sir ! ' answered the dressmaker promptly, ' I'm 
 only taking off the ring.' 
 
 ' Taking off the ring ? Does it hurt her 1 ' 
 
 'No, sir, but I'm going to take it to Mr. Jope to prize it. You 
 see, sir, I'm a lone unmarried lady, and my afflicted parent — 
 No, ma'am, it's no use your plucking at me and frowning, I 
 will speak the truth. It's just this, Mr. Curgenven. The lady 
 here — 1 make no doubt she is a real lady — has not been able 
 to pay for her board and lodging, and I can't afford to keep 
 her here for nothing, so we are going to dispose of her ring 
 and watch and chain, that is all, sir. I said if she'd any one 
 she knew, and could refer me to, as would stand to her that I 
 should receive my money, I wouldn't press her no more ; but as 
 she couldn't do that, and no one has a right to luxuries, as a 
 watch and chain and ring, who hasn't paid for her bread-and-
 
 AT THE MILLINER'S. 43 
 
 butter, let alone the sole and Dundee marmalade, she gave me 
 authority to raise a little money on them trinkets she has.' 
 
 A flame started to Theresa's cheeks, and she bowed her 
 head. She was angry and vexed, ashamed that her necessity 
 should be known, angry at the greed of the woman who took 
 advantage of the opportunity to almost force Mr. Curgenven 
 to offer the requisite money. 
 
 1 Look here, Miss Treise ! ' said Mr. Percival. ' You cut 
 down-stairs and make out your bill, and bring it me. I am in 
 debt to the Signora — have been for years, and never paid it 
 off. I'll do it now.' 
 
 "When the dressmaker had disappeared : ' Signora — at low 
 water-mark 1 ' 
 
 Theresa bent her head. 
 
 'So am I — ebb tide— frightful. Only think — had four 
 thousand a year offered me with one hand, and with the other 
 every penny I have to live on snatched from me. But, by 
 George ! Signora, that shan't interfere, I'll help you all I 
 can, and in every way. We have-nots make the best 
 comrades.' 
 
 ' How have you lost 1 ' 
 
 ' My own cousin, to whose funeral I have been, had made 
 a will before he married constituting me his heir. Then he 
 married, and the fact of his marriage nullified the will — and 
 he made, it seems, no fresh one, so I am left out in the cold. 
 He had always given me a small annuity, and by his death I 
 lose that. But I am a man and have my energies. I'll shift 
 somehow. I am concerned for you — I wish I knew how to 
 help you.' 
 
 Then into the room was shown Mr. Physic. 
 
 ' Now, ma'am,' said he, ' what do you say to this 1 There's 
 a fortune in your hands — four thousand — to give to one or 
 another, and none of it to stick to your fingers unless you 
 bring the matter into court, and see what is to be got there, 
 with my help. What do you say to that 1 ' He looked 
 round, saw Mr. Percival, started, and said — 
 
 ' There, there, I'm talking nonsense. I don't mean it, I 
 was joking. The fact is, I am a wag.'
 
 44 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER TWO. 
 
 ' How do, ma'am ! ' said Mr. Physic, entering the boudoir 
 where Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenveu was engaged at her 
 secretaire of rosewood writing letters. 
 
 There was veiled defiance in the tone of voice, and Mrs. 
 Curgenven looked up in surprise, for she was accustomed to 
 deference from every one, the agent included. 
 
 ' Well ! ' she said in a hard tone, as she drew about her 
 a moral panoply of steel, ' what is it to-day, Mr. Physic 1 ' 
 
 ' I have ventured — although it be early days — so soon after 
 the funeral, to drive over, Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 ' Mrs. 1 ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Curgenven,' repeated Physic, with a tone of triumph 
 in his manner and voice ; ' not, in matter of fact, of Curgenven, 
 who, however, considers herself as such by right.' 
 
 The widow resumed her writing, with a toss of the chin and 
 a short snort. 
 
 Mr. Physic waited. He had his hat in his hand, and he 
 worked round the brim with his fingers before he spoke 
 again. The lady continued writing as though unconscious of 
 his presence. 
 
 Presently he said, ■ I beg pardon, but I think it advisable 
 that the two Mistresses Curgenven should meet and have 
 the matter out between them. We don't want to have a 
 disturbance and a talk, and have an uproar over the matter.' 
 
 1 Excuse me,' said Mrs. Curgenven, continuing to write, ' I 
 am engaged this morning. Waters ought to have said so. I 
 have letters.' 
 
 ' I think it would be advisable, ma'am, if you would let the 
 letters wait and not postpone this matter. It must be brought 
 to a head in one way or other, either privately or publicly. 
 Which would you prefer 1 ' 
 
 1 I presume, from your manner, that you have been enlisted 
 to act for that person. Very well. I shall find some one else 
 to act for me, if necessary, to defend me against impostors 
 and their abettors.' 
 
 The agent coloured slightly. There had existed a covert 
 feud between him and the lady ever since the marriage of 
 Captain Lambert. She had used her influence with her
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER TWO. 45 
 
 husband to get him to either take the management of his 
 estate into his own hands or to put the accounts before a 
 competent auditor, who would thoroughly investigate them, 
 and satisfy her mind whether Physic was dealing with them 
 honourably and honestly. But the captain was inert and 
 good-natured, with a vein of scepticism in his soul. He 
 argued that probably Physic was no worse than another, and 
 that he himself might fall into less scrupulous or less com- 
 petent hands if he changed his agent ; that if he were de- 
 frauded it must be of small sums, and that the payment he 
 made for Physic's services was small ; that if he got another 
 agent he might have to pay twice the salary and get worse 
 cheated, so that it was best for him to let things remain as 
 they were. 
 
 Physic was well aware that he had had Mrs. Curgenven as 
 his antagonist for the last seventeen years, and he had never 
 been quite certain whether she would not prevail in the end 
 over the squire by persistence and succeed in dislodging him. 
 If the property were to come to Mrs. Curgenven in trust for 
 her daughter, according to the provisions of the marriage 
 settlement, then he was quite certain that his connection with 
 it was at an end. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven persisted in writing. Her brows were 
 knitted, and she breathed in snatches ; she was incensed at 
 the insolence and persistency of the man. 
 
 ' I beg pardon, madam,' said Mr. Physic, ' Mrs. Curgenven 
 is in the fly from Liskeard at the door.' 
 
 ' I do not choose to see the woman.' 
 
 1 But really it is necessary that you should. The matter 
 must be sifted out. Let it be done quietly and privately, not 
 in a court.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven threw down her pen, and turned sharply 
 round. 
 
 ' Mr. Physic,' said she in an imperious tone, ' that this 
 creature is an unfortunate, I am well aware. It is really 
 monstrous that on the day following the funeral of Captain 
 Curgenven a painful and slanderous charge against him should 
 be raked up — painful and mean to me, his widow, slanderous 
 to his memory.' 
 
 1 It cannot be avoided, madam. This is a matter that is not 
 to be burked.' 
 
 ' Mr. Physic,' she spoke with composure due to hf r pride, 
 ' it is, I allow, possible — mind, I do not say probable, lor that 
 it is not — but possible it is, that in early life Captain Cur-
 
 46 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 genven may have done foolish, even culpable things. I did 
 
 not then know him. He was not then under my — I mean I 
 was not then bis wife. What ho may have done as a boy I 
 cannot say, as I do not know what were the principles in 
 which he had been brought up, and what sort of chaplain 
 there was to the vessel in which Mr. Lambert was then 
 serving, but that there was any such entanglement as you 
 seem to imply is preposteroaa I will not listen to the 
 suggestion. / am Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven.' 
 
 ' Will you not see this lady 1 She is at the door.' 
 
 ' Most assuredly not. I am a clergyman's daughter. If I 
 could be any good to her — get her into a Magdalen Home, or 
 something of the sort, I would see what I could do, but to be 
 
 browbeaten and insulted ' She swung herself round on 
 
 her seat, took up the pen again, and began to write, or pretend 
 to write. 
 
 'This unfortunate, as you are pleased to designate her,' said 
 Physic, ' holds your destiny and fortune in her hands, and is 
 unfortunate in this respect, that she has the giving of the 
 acres of Curgenven, and none of the earth sticks to her 
 fingers ; if she establishes her position, she will have only 
 what can be got for her as widow. All depends, as far as you 
 are concerned, on what her decision will be — to whom are to 
 go the four thousand a year.' 
 
 ' Four thousand stuff and nonsense ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Cur- 
 genven. 
 
 ' I am sorry to find you so unwilling to enter into this 
 matter privately. It will be far from agreeable to you to have 
 it blazed abroad in all West of England papers, to have it 
 talked and laughed over by all your neighbours and acquaint- 
 ances. You will have to vacate this house, and that unfor- 
 tunate, as you term her, will turn you out of it.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' 
 
 'Indeed sle will.' 
 
 1 And take my place here 1 ' sneered Mrs. Curgenven. 
 
 'That I do not assert. She will receive her widow's portion 
 granted by court. You might make terms with her now if 
 you chose. She is extremely poor, and for a few pounds might 
 be induced to waive her claim.' 
 
 ' Oh ! now the truth is coming out. This is an attempt to 
 extort money. I knew as much. She has empowered you to 
 act as intermediary.' 
 
 'Not at all. Not a word has passed between ia relative to 
 such a transaction. I, in the interests of the family, suggest
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER TWO. 47 
 
 it. Anything would be better than a scandal. I may tell 
 you now, ma'am, that I knew of this marriage, and a genuine 
 marriage it was, for Captain Curgenven confided the facts to 
 me when he proposed his union with yourself. The marriage 
 took place at the Embassy in Naples.' 
 
 ' What is your evidence ] ' asked Mrs. Curgenven contemp- 
 tuously. 
 
 ' I have only the word of the late Captain Lambert, and 
 that of the lady he married.' 
 
 ' Which latter is not worth a rush. You misunderstood my 
 husband. He can have said, and did say, nothing of the sort.' 
 
 ' I have written to Naples for the certificates.' 
 
 ' Even if you get them, I will not believe them. Such 
 things are easily manufactured.' 
 
 ' But a court might not share your opinion,' said Physic. 
 ' And if you persist in refusing to come to a private arrange- 
 ment, the matter must be gone into in a court of law. You 
 are aware that if the marriage be established, then the will of 
 Captain Curgenven comes into force. In the event of his 
 having been free when he married you, then, of course, the 
 marriage settlement has legal value, not otherwise. If it be 
 proved that he was married and his wife alive when he con- 
 tracted his union with yourself ' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven started to her feet. 
 
 ' I cannot endure this insolence ! I cannot 1 I will not ! ' 
 
 1 You had better hear me out. I will put the whole matter 
 before you with as much consideration for your feelings as 
 may be, and, believe me, I am acting in your own interest 
 and in that of Miss Alice, and of the whole Curgenven family, 
 in urging the settlement of the matter between the four walls 
 of a private chamber.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven reseated herself. She set her lips. She 
 was highly incensed, not alarmed. 
 
 ' If, then, through certain reasons, the will of Captain Cur- 
 genven take effect, then this whole estate passes at once to 
 Mr. Percival. Captain Lambert drew up his will after he 
 succeeded to the property, and when he and Mr. Percival had 
 met. At that time the captain believed he was married, and 
 separated from his wife, and he did not accordingly suppose 
 he could marry again. He was greatly embittered against the 
 lady he had married, and when he made his will he bequeathed 
 everything to his Cousin Percival, and to Mr. Percival's son, 
 Justinian, after him. He made no provision whatever for his 
 wife, he did not allude to her in his will.'
 
 48 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 .Mrs. Curjrenven listened, but pretended to be writing. 
 
 'Afterwards, when Captain Ourgenven bad proposed bo 
 yourself, madam, he consulted me about his entanglements. 
 [, of course, urged him to make inquiries relative to the person 
 whom he had married, or supposed that he had married.' 
 
 Physic saw the lady's hand contract on her pen spasmodic- 
 ally when he referred to the marriage as a fact, and her hand 
 only relaxed when he added the words which admitted of it as 
 supposititious. 
 
 ' He authorized me to expend a hundred pounds in inquiries, 
 but we learned nothing. Perhaps we instituted our search 
 in the wrong direction. Be that as it may, our inquiries 
 were result less, we could find no trace of the lady whom 
 Captain Lambert had married, or thought it possible that he 
 may have married. Then he proceeded to contract his union 
 with yourself, madam.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven dropped a blot of ink on the letter, uttered 
 a gasp of vexation, and proceeded first to apply blotting-paper 
 to the page, and then to tear the note up, take a fresh sheet, 
 and recommence the letter. 
 
 ' After his marriage with yourself, madam, I strongly ad- 
 vised the captain to tear up his will, and to execute another, 
 making provision for yourself, and constituting Miss Alice 
 his heiress, should the present contingency arise ; that is to 
 say, should it be discovered that his second marriage was 
 invalid. I urged this, not once but again and again, but the 
 captain was very shy of doing what I advised. Ho was 
 afraid of this will turning up after his death and telling a 
 story he desired should not be known, and which need not be 
 known should the first wife never reappear. He was continu- 
 ally hoping that some news might reach him relative to her 
 death. II that had taken place subsequent to his marriage 
 with yourself, his intention was to confide the matter to you 
 and be remarried to you without any one but your own selves 
 being the wiser for it. Unhappily, Captain Curgenven did 
 not follow my advice. He was a man to postpone to an inde- 
 finite future the doing of things that were unpleasant. Had 
 he drawn up this second will ' 
 
 'He did not do it,' said Mrs. Curgenven, ' for the best of all 
 reasons, because it was unnecessary.' 
 
 ' Unnecessary, madam ! You will soon experience the con- 
 sequences. You and Miss Alice are left utterly unprovided 
 for." 
 
 ' And you dare to insinuate — nay, to assert, that my poor
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER TWO. 49 
 
 husband ought to have made a will in which he described me 
 as his mistress, and Alice as his illegitimate child ! ' 
 
 ' So only could you obtain anything.' 
 
 ' He never did that. He could not have done it. Neither 
 Alice nor I would accept one farthing under such a will as 
 that. I defy you to prove a previous marriage ! ' 
 
 ' Very well, madam. Of course, if you force us to it, we 
 must proceed legally. I am sorry. It would have been so 
 much better to have come to an arrangement without notoriety. 
 You must consider, if this does become public, that it is you, 
 you alone who are dragging the character of Captain Lambert 
 first in the dirt, and then through the mouths of the public. 
 How the Reverend Mr. Pamphlet will like this, I am no judge 
 to decide.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven was staggered for the first time. She laid 
 down her pen and stood up. 
 
 ' If this unpleasant affair comes into court, and the decision 
 is given against you by law ' 
 
 ' Oh, law ! law ! ' said the lady. ' Courts are as generally 
 in the wrong as in the right. I have no opinion of them.' 
 
 ' Possibly you may judge rightly ; but supposing that 
 your claim to be Mrs. Curgenven should be legally disal- 
 lowed, by what name will you be known 1 By what name 
 will Miss Alice be known ? Will you be Miss Pamphlet 
 again 1 ' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven turned livid for a moment. Then the 
 blood rushed into her face. 
 
 ' I am a clergyman's daughter ! I am Mrs. Curgenven of 
 Curgenven ! If the law decide in favour of fraud and impos- 
 ture and wickedness of every kind, I am sorry for it. But I 
 am Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven. It is infamous that this 
 vile, this insulting claim should be trumped up when Captain 
 Curgenven is no more alive to defend himself, and to maintain 
 his honour ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, he is dead,' said Physic. ' Do you know what he 
 said to me one day, when I warned him of the rashness of 
 his conduct in marrying again without evidence that his first 
 wife was dead 1 " By Jove ! " said he to me, " if Theresa 
 were to turn up again, I should shoot myself ; there'd be 
 no other way out of it." She did turn up, and he did shoot 
 himself.' 
 
 ' It was accident, pure accident. So the cosoner proved.' 
 
 ' Yes, because the jux-y and he had not the facts submitted 
 to them on which they could come to any other conclusion. 
 
 E
 
 50 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Now, had you not best see the lady who asserts that she was 
 married to Captain Curgenven?' 
 
 ' 1 do not choose to see her. If she is in the fly at the 
 door, let the fly take her back again. She shall not cross 
 and pollute the threshold of this house so long as I am mistress 
 in it ! ' 
 
 ' I pray you, madam, be reasonable. You are labouring 
 under a delusion when you assume that the lady outside is an 
 unfortunate. She will very soon establish her right to be 
 called by that name which you have arrogated to yourself for 
 seventeen years, and then you will have to content your- 1 -If 
 with being Miss Pamphlet.' 
 
 ' This is intolerable. You are taking advantage of my being 
 unprotected by any gentleman in the house. I must have my 
 father here. Let him be summoned.' 
 
 ' Very well, he shall decide. He will understand the gravity 
 of the situation. I will, with your leave, touch the bell and 
 send for the rector.' 
 
 ' As you choose.' 
 
 ' And then, may I bring the lady in here, that the matter 
 may be gone into fully between us four ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Mrs. Curgenven. ' Did you not hear what I 
 said? She shall not cross the threshold whilst I am in the 
 house and have servants at my command ! And I will not 
 leave this house till I am driven out of it.' 
 
 1 Then, may we go into the bungalow 1 ' 
 
 The widow hesitated. She was angry and flushed. 
 
 ' It will hardly do to have the interview on the terrace, 
 with the maids at the bedroom windows, and the gardener at 
 the flower-beds, their ears open to catch what is said.' 
 
 ' Very well ; you may go into the bungalow.' 
 
 I And, madam, will you come to us there ? ' 
 
 I I ! and meet that brazen-faced — that abominable creature ? 
 1 1 a clergyman's daughter ! Never ! never ! I am Mrs. Cur- 
 genven of Curgenven. Let my father see her, and settle as 
 he sees fit. I leave all in his hands, only don't let him ask 
 me to see her, for — I won't.'
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER ONE. 51 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER ONE. 
 
 Mr. Physic went to the hired conveyance which he had left 
 at the entrance to the house. The driver stood by his horse, 
 with stolid face, brushing away the flies that assembled on 
 the flanks and between the eyes of the brute, and addressed it 
 sometimes in terms of flattery and endearment, then in those 
 of obloquy and dislike. 
 
 Theresa was inside the cab. She had not dismounted, as 
 the agent had requested her to remain seated till his return, 
 and she had plenty of matter to occupy her brain during his 
 absence. 
 
 The position of affairs relative to Curgenven had been ex- 
 plained to her by Physic during the drive. She had a clear 
 head, and she understood it. 
 
 Captain Lambert had made his will shortly after his acces- 
 sion to the property, and then, knowing he was married and 
 separated from his wife, and with no prospect before him of 
 becoming a father, he had bequeathed everything to his Cousin 
 Percival for life, and then to Percival's son Justinian. When, 
 however, a few years later, he married the rector's daughter, 
 a settlement had been drawn up whereby the estates were to 
 descend to the children of Lambert, lawfully begotten, by his 
 proposed wife Jane, daughter of the Reverend James Pamphlet, 
 subject to a charge of three hundred pounds per annum to be 
 paid to the widow after the coming of age of his eldest son, 
 should he have one, or after the marriage of his daughter, 
 should he have no son. 
 
 Now as this marriage was invalid, so was the contract ; 
 consequently the previous will came into force. But Mr. 
 Percival had up to this time been given no intimation of this. 
 It was advisable that he should not be informed till the 
 Pamphlet family had been consulted. What Mr. Physic pro- 
 posed was that Mr. Percival should be told the circumstances 
 in a day or two, and that he should take possession of Cur- 
 genven, the settlement being privately withdrawn. No one 
 then need know of the scandal, that is to say, if the first Mrs. 
 Curgenven could be persuaded to hold her tongue. 
 
 Mr. Physic had thrown out intimations to Theresa on the 
 drive that if she left her interests in his hands, made a friend
 
 52 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 of him, he would secure for her some pickings. He would 
 make the Pamphlets ' stump up ' and the Curgenvens ' fork 
 out,' so that she need not he solicitous about her future. 
 
 But to have one or other party forced to ' stump up,' ' to 
 fork out/ or, to use another of the agent's terms, ' shell out,' 
 through fear of her speaking openly of her affairs was not 
 pleasant to Theresa. She was proud. Her pride had kept 
 her separate from her husband all these years, and though 
 some of it had broken down under privation and weakness, so 
 that she had come to her husband to entreat help, thai was a 
 different matter from selling her secret to Mr. Percival to help 
 him into Curgenven, and her silence to Mrs. Curgenven to 
 save her pride from a fall. It was repugnant to her to make 
 merchandise of her unhappy past, but that she should enter- 
 tain such a feeling did not occur to the agent, who was elated 
 at having an opportunity in his hands of playing off one party 
 against another, and of paying off old grudges. 
 
 Mr. Physic's manner had been familiarly offensive, and 
 Theresa had been obliged to treat him with coldness, feeling 
 that the least relaxation on her part might lead to unpleasant 
 ness. She resolved on no account to return to Liskeard in the 
 carriage with him, she would either walk back, or, if she went 
 in the cab, require him to sit outside with the driver. 
 
 He had hinted something about hunting in couples, about 
 putting their horses together. Theresa's life had not been a 
 smooth one, but one of the principal ruffled in it had been 
 occasioned by the attentions — sometimes serious, sometimes 
 flippant, sometimes honourable, and sometimes Dot — of men 
 who had been attracted by her good looks when younger than 
 she was now ; and nothing in her tossed career had caused her 
 greater annoyance, more heart-aches and humiliations, than 
 these same attentions. She was weary — weary to death of 
 contest with adverse circumstances, craving for rest as age 
 approached. Whether her personal charms, or the prospect of 
 using her as his tool, had aroused interest in her in this man 
 Physic, she did not care to ask ; she resolved to shake herself 
 free from him, and to act independently. She wished to see 
 and speak with Mrs. Curgenven, if possible, alone. 
 
 She was still deep in thought when Physic put his terrier- 
 like head in at the cab-window, and said, 'She has her feathers 
 up — the cockatoo. She won't meet you, not she. But get 
 out and come to the bungalow ; the old daddy is to be sum- 
 moned. He's Master Pomposity I can tell you.' Then, 
 turning to the driver, he said, ' You, James, go round to the
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER ONE. 53 
 
 stables, and make the groom give you a feed. We shall be 
 here another hour, and thank the stars if we get away then.' 
 
 He threw open the carriage door and held his hand to assist 
 Theresa to descend. She disregarded his hand, and alighted 
 without aid. 
 
 ' I particularly desire to see Mrs. Curgenven,' she said, and 
 took a step towards the front door. 
 
 ' No use. She refuses an interview. Now, look here ; don't 
 you put your oar in. If you do, you will upset the boat. 
 Leave all to me, and trust your interests in my hands. They 
 are safe there, safe as my own. I'll see that you get some 
 snips off the cloth. The whole affair needs delicate and ex- 
 perienced handling. Let me alone ; trust all to me, and you 
 shall have no reason to complain. Two parties will be under 
 lasting obligation to you, and I'll see to it that this obligation 
 is cashable. There, what more could I do ? Come along with 
 me to the bungalow, I have the key.' 
 
 Theresa followed Mr. Physic reluctantly across the terrace 
 to the bungalow. He put the key into the door, and let 
 her in. 
 
 'There, my dear,' said he, 'to the right is the smoking- 
 room. I'll go after the venerable fossil. Make yourself com- 
 fortable and wait for us.' 
 
 Theresa entered, seated herself in an easy-chair, and listened 
 to the retreating steps of the agent. 
 
 The rectory was distant by road half-a-mile, it adjoined 
 the park, the church was in the grounds of Curgenven. In 
 ancient times the priest lived in the manor-house, was chap- 
 lain there, and tutor to the children ; thus, in a good number 
 of cases, the parish church is close to the manor-house. After 
 the Reformation the parsons sought out domiciles for them- 
 selves, their wives and familes, and built on the most suitable 
 bit of glebe, consequently many a parsonage is far from the 
 church. At Curgenven there was a short cut, a footpath from 
 the rectory that opened into the churchyard by a locked 
 wicket. The day was warm, bees were buzzing in the 
 window, struggling against the glass to get out. They must 
 have come down the chimney, by no other means could they 
 have got into the bungalow. On the window-sill was a 
 tortoiseshell butterfly that was dying. It had battered its 
 wings in striving to penetrate the glass, as the bees were now 
 doing, till its powers failed or its heart was broken, and then 
 it fell down, and was winnowing slowly with its bruised wings, 
 like the rhythmical movement of lungs breathing, but this
 
 54 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 was the spasm of approaching death. In the corner of the 
 window a spider had constructed a cobweb with a fibrous tunnel 
 down which he lived, and from which he rushed when a fly- 
 was entangled, and drew it into his cave, but when a bee was 
 caught in the mesh he remained quiescent, and suffered the 
 bee to disentangle himself unmolested. 
 
 Through the window shone a copper-beech blazing in the 
 sun. No ray of sunlight entered the room, for the window 
 faced the north, but the copper-beech so blazed that it sent a 
 rellected glow through the little room. 
 
 Above the copper-beech soared Scotch pines, spreading into 
 flaky boughs, which were laden with rooks' nests. No rooks 
 were wheeling and curving about them now, for the nesting- 
 time was over, and the birds, having long ago reared their 
 young, had gone off to the seaside or the moors for change of 
 scene and air and diet. 
 
 Theresa remained in the chair for some time, with the 
 thoughts within her tossing in fitful, disordered fashion, like 
 the waves on an ironbound coast that are broken into confusion 
 of coil and recoil. The pain from her mending collar bone, 
 the weariness of the arm bound in one position, had produced 
 a slight fever in her blood, that momentarily confused her 
 thoughts. She looked about the little room. In this, Captain 
 Curgenven had lounged reading the papers, smoking his pipe 
 or cigar, had written his letters, and planned his mechanical 
 contrivances. His waste-paper basket was beneath the table, 
 full to overflow with envelopes and old circulars of wines, and 
 damp- resisting paints, and iron-fencing, and lawn-mowers ; on 
 the table were compass and rule, some books, a Stone's 
 Justices' Manual, for Captain Ijambert had been a magistrate, 
 and a notice from the petty sessional clerk of the cases that were 
 to come before the bench next magistrates' meeting, which 
 happened to be the day of Captain Lambert Curgenven's 
 funeral. Against the walls were a picture of a ship — the 
 vessel to which he had been appointed in the Pacific — and a 
 rack of guns and fishing-rods. The squire hud not been 
 a sporting man himself , but lie had allowed his Cousin Percival 
 and Justinian, Percival's son, and any friend who asked leave 
 to shoot and fish over his property. 
 
 On the mantelshelf where some Chinese curios, and on the 
 floor a pair of well worn slippers. Theresa did not notice 
 these latter at first, she was looking dreamily through the 
 window at the rooks' nests, and was thinking how that the 
 birds had their homes to which to come and from which to go,
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER ONE. 55 
 
 but she had never had one of her own. The birds are born in 
 nests, but she had not been born even in a home. Her father 
 and mother had been wanderers, perhaps gipses. The camp 
 had been in a lane in Hampshire, near the New Forest, 
 when scarlet fever had attacked the adults and the young, 
 and had swept away her father, and mother, and sister ; she — 
 the babe — had been left, and had been taken charge of by a 
 kind, good lady, Mrs. Fenton, who lived in a pleasant cottage 
 on the outskirts of the forest. She had been adopted and 
 brought up by Mrs. Fenton, and had been with her till that 
 lady's death at Naples. The rooks were better off than 
 she. Year by year they came back to the same Scotch pines at 
 Curgenven. That spider was better off than she, for he could 
 build himself a home, spin himself a habitation out of his own 
 bowels. Theresa might have recalled the words of Ralph in 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's old play of the Knight of the 
 Burning Pestle: 'To a resolved mind, his home is every- 
 where.' She had acted on this principle for nineteen years, 
 and it had failed. She was dead-weary of a wandering, 
 an uncertain life. Several times she had received offers of 
 marriage, and might have made herself a home in the New 
 World, but she could not forget that she was bound to an 
 indifferent man, and he stood in the way of her finding a new 
 home. Now, youth was over, her powers had failed, her 
 energies were exhausted, and she longed for rest and security. 
 It was not to be had. She saw how the bees were hammering 
 at the glass to escape. They sought freedom that they might 
 speed directly homeward. They had hives, where they stored 
 their honey and where they could sleep the winter. They were 
 a thousand times happier than she. 
 
 The poor butterfly that lay on the table had no home. Her 
 dreamy eyes rested on it, and, as her bosom rose and fell, 
 it kept rhyme with the expansion and contraction of the 
 battered wings of the dying insect. 
 
 All at once an idea shot like an electric bolt through the 
 heart of Theresa. She remembered that it was in the bunga- 
 low that Captain Curgenven had destroyed himself. The 
 spasm was followed by a sense of numbness, a horror that she 
 should be on the spot where he had died. Unwillingly, her 
 eyes sank to the floor, searching, with fear quiveiing in every 
 vein, lest she should there see the stain of his blood. She 
 breathed more freely when she saw that the floor was car- 
 peted, and that it w.-is certainly not there that he had died. 
 
 But his slippers were there — his slippers I
 
 56 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Theresa rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and 
 leaned her throbbing brow in her hand, as her eyes observed 
 those down-trodden slippers of threadbare, stained embroidery. 
 
 A sense of bitterness had risen in her heart a moment 
 before at the thought of Lambert, when she considered that 
 he had not only not given her the home she sought, but had 
 stood in the way of her linding one for herself ; but now, at 
 the sight of these old slippers, a great wave of pity for the 
 wretched man rose in her heart, and rolled over its surface 
 and washed out all (he writing there scored against him. He 
 had been hard pressed for money at Malta ; lie had not known 
 where to turn for it. She had made no allowances for that, 
 and the irritation consequent thereon. Since then she had 
 experienced repeatedly what it was to be in the last straits for 
 money, and she felt that she could forgive Lambert a great 
 deal — if not all — the sorrow and ruin he had brought on her 
 life. There had been mistakes and misunderstandings on 
 both sides — carelessness on his, resentment on hers. The 
 tears fringed her long lashes. 
 
 ' I wonder — I do wondor,' she thought, ' whether he ever 
 did think of me, and had any love at all for mel ' 
 
 She stood up. 
 
 It was strange how that then, in the midst of her own 
 anguish of mind, she could consider the suffering butterfly, 
 but it was so. It seemed to her — but it may have been con- 
 sequent on the fever in her blood troubling her mind — that 
 the pain of the despairing, dying tortoiseshell butterfly was 
 the one thing superadded to her own pain that she could not 
 endure. She moved to the table, acting consciously after a 
 fashion and unconsciously after a fashion, and took the sheet 
 of notices for the Petty Sessions and passed the paper under 
 the dying insect. 
 
 As she did this, she discovered the surface of a writing-desk 
 of olive-wood inlaid with little Neapolitan figures, on which 
 the sheet had lain. 
 
 In an instant she remembered it, and forgot the butterfly. 
 This was Lambert's old desk that he had had at the time 
 when they were married. There was the little fisherman on 
 it with the red cap, and there the woman with the olive-green 
 gown. 
 
 She remembered distinctly how Lambert and she had 
 laughed to find that one of her keys opened his desk. She 
 had that same key on her bunch in her pocket DOW. Should 
 she open his desk? Why not? Who hud a greater right to
 
 MRS. CURGENVEN, NUMBER ONE. 57 
 
 do so than herself, his true wife 1 And she longed to discover 
 whether in that old desk there were any letters of hers 
 treasured up, a lock of her hair, the little miniature of her 
 done at Naples. She had no difficulty in unlocking the desk. 
 She raised the lid and looked in. There were papers there. 
 She turned them over with the fingers of the one hand she 
 was able to use. 
 
 No, not a letter, not a lock — but stay ! — there was, she 
 remembered, a secret drawer. The ink-pot must be taken 
 out, and the side of the little compartment that held it raised, 
 then that freed the secret drawer. She removed the glass 
 ink-pot, and speedily succeeded in opening the drawer. There 
 was the miniature, there the lock of hair, and something as 
 well — a long envelope, sealed with the Curgenven arms, 
 inscribed, in large letters : 
 
 'My Will. 
 1 To be opened only by Mr. Physic, and used by him in certain 
 
 -ontingencies. 
 
 ' Lambert Curgenven. 
 
 October 3, 18—.' 
 
 What was to be done 1 
 
 At that moment she heard steps and voices approaching. 
 Mr. Physic and the rector were arriving. 
 
 She hastily slipped the paper into her pocket, closed the 
 secret drawer, replaced the ink-pot, relocked the desk, and 
 sank, panting and flushed, into the arm-chair as the door 
 opened and the two gentlemen entered. 
 
 The butterfly was still. Its spasmodic wavings of the wings 
 were at an end. It was dead. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE REVEREND JAMES PAMPHLET. 
 
 The Reverend James Pamphlet's face was of the colour of 
 grey granite as he walked from the rectory to the Manor 
 beside Mr. Physic and heard his story.
 
 58 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 1 Merciful powers ! ' he exclaimed. ■ What will people 
 say?' 
 
 He passed his fingers through his white whiskers and drew 
 them out to their full extent. 
 
 Unlike his daughter, he accepted the story at once, and was 
 cowed at the prospect of its becoming public. 
 
 'Can nothing be done to hush up this unfortunate affair?' 
 
 'Everything/ answered Mr. Physic cheerily. 'But Mrs. 
 Curgenven — I mean Number Two — -is quite inflexible. She 
 will not see Number One, will not enter into communication 
 with her, and persists that she is an impostor, or has con- 
 cocted this story in order to extort money. Money, naturally, 
 it will cost to hush up the facts, and facts they are. I don't 
 know that it is of any particular interest to any one to con- 
 ceal the facts except yourself and Mrs. Curgenven, your 
 daughter. That they can be kept under a dish-cover without 
 some payment is not probable. Number One is impecunious, 
 Number One has been in America, Number One is not a fool 
 by any means, and when you tott these items together, why 
 — it means money. I believe there is a proverb that " speech 
 is silver, but silence golden." ' 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Pamphlet felt his gorge rise, as though 
 he were in a rough sea. 
 
 ' What do you think, now, at the outside, it will cost ? ' he 
 asked in a faint voice, much like that with which on board 
 ship he would have said, ' Steward, a basin, please.' 
 
 ' You leave the matter to me. I am a man of business. I 
 have my wits at my linger and toe ends, and a double portion 
 in the tip of my nose. I'll do all I can for you. Put your 
 interests unreservedly into my hands, and I'll do what I can 
 to abate her demands. I tell you what we'll do. We'll get 
 her shipped off to the States again. Reckon on me. I'm heart 
 and soul for you.' 
 
 1 You see,' said the rector in a tremulous voice, as he took 
 his whiskers with both hands and drew them out to stiffen 
 them, conscious that his limpness of spirit had invaded his 
 whiskers and had made them droop, ' you see, between our- 
 selves, I am in almost daily expectation of advancement, a 
 canonry, or an archdeaconry, or something of the sort ; and if 
 this dreadful affair were to get wind, the bishop might hesi- 
 tate- might pass me over for a very inferior man, a man, I 
 mean, who cannot put in such claims as myself. You see, my 
 dear Physic, the bishop can't afford to select men for posts 
 of importance if they are not safe every way — safe to have no
 
 THE REVEREND JAMES PAMPHLET. 59 
 
 definite convictions, safe to have nothing awkward in their 
 past, and safe not to go off like rockets in the future. They 
 must select men, you understand, of no marked individuality.' 
 
 ' I quite understand,' said Physic, ' men in the realm of 
 man, what whiting are among fishes, and Jerusalem artichokes 
 among vegetables, and sago in the pudding realm.' 
 
 'I wouldn't put it quite in that way,' said Mr. Pamphlet. 
 ' But — to the point under consideration. What is to be done ? 
 I must see this person, of course, and if the story be true, as 
 I suppose it is — ■— ' 
 
 1 About that no doubt at all. I have not the evidence in 
 my hands yet, but 1 have written to the Embassy at Naples 
 for it, and I may tell you, I've known about it for some time. 
 I knew before the captain married your daughter.' 
 
 'Then why did you not inform me 1 ? I would not have 
 permitted the marriage.' 
 
 'The captain was convinced that his first missus was dead. 
 He spent a hundred pounds in inquiries without coming on a 
 trace of her. The fact is, we went the wrong way to work.' 
 
 ' How so 1 ' 
 
 ' The captain was certain she had run away with a Marchese 
 Gioberti who had paid her attentions, and we expended that 
 hundred pounds in tracking the Marchese. But the scent led 
 to earth. He was dead, and none of his relatives would say 
 anything about the lady. Perhaps he had kept it from them ; 
 perhaps they did not choose, when he was dead, to say anything 
 about his love-affairs, so we concluded. It never occurred to 
 the captain nor to me that, instead of running away with the 
 Marchese, she had run away from him. Consequently, when 
 we were searching in one direction, she was off in another, 
 and we neglected the threads which would really have led us 
 to her. Will you believe it 1 She left her address with the 
 chaplain ! It did not for one moment enter into the head of 
 the captain to ask a parson as to her whereabouts.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the rector, ' that was fatal.' 
 
 ' Of course it was fatal. It led us all wrong.' 
 
 'It is a dreadful business,' groaned Mr. Pamphlet. ' It 
 must be hushed up — even if it cost money. I am not a rich 
 man. Indeed, I may say I am a poor man.' 
 
 ' But you will spare what is necessary ? ' 
 
 ' I must do what I must,' said the rector, his face and h;mds 
 becoming bathed with cold perspiration. ' Oh, that I should 
 have come to this ! Oh, that Jane had never been born ! She 
 had measles when young — about thirteen — and pulled through,
 
 60 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 and I was so glad then. Oh dear ! how little we know what 
 is best for us ! And now she will cost me a great deal of 
 money, and may prevent my becoming an archdeacon ! Oh 
 dear ! oh dear ! ' moaned Mr. Pamphlet, ' and I have teetotalled 
 under the bishop — just to please him — and been so zealous on 
 the platform against moderate drinkers, and I have denied 
 myself my glass of port — and all for nothing.' He was on 
 the verge of tears. He put one hand over the other and 
 rubbed the back, driving his fingers up the cuffs, with low 
 sighs and moans to himself, forgetful for a moment of the 
 presence of Mr. Physic, so overcome was he at the thought 
 of his reputation receiving a blight, or of his pocket being 
 emptied to save his reputation — or rather the reputation of 
 his daughter. 
 
 On reaching the bungalow door, he hung back, and allowed 
 Physic to open and stand waiting for him to pass through. 
 He pulled out a white pocket-handkerchief and mopped his 
 brow, then plucked the agent's sleeve, and said, in a low tone, 
 • Don't you think it would be better for me not to go in and 
 see her 1 Should any talk arise, should there be any question 
 hereafter, I might be able to say that I had had nothing to 
 do with it, that I had not seen the person, and had not entered 
 into communication with her.' 
 
 ' That is as you like, sir. If you will leave it in my hands, 
 and trust me ' 
 
 1 And yet — it might cost me more than I can possibly afford. 
 Bless me ! I never was so placed in my life before ! ' 
 
 The fact was that Mr. Pamphlet had not absolute trust in 
 the sincerity and disinterestedness of the agent. He had 
 heard enough from his daughter to make him mistrust his 
 straightforwardness, and he thought, for his pocket's sake, it 
 would be advisable that he should be present when a bargain 
 was struck ; whereas for the sake of his reputation it were 
 preferable that the bargain should be struck whilst he was 
 looking at the landscape, scanning the clouds, listening to the 
 voice of the thrushes, and meditating on some sublime passage 
 in the Hebrew poets. 
 
 ' Really, my daughter is the proper person to enter into this 
 negotiation. It concerns her a great deal more than it does 
 me. I dare say you would not mind coming with me to the 
 house, and helping me to induce her to take the conduct of 
 this affair into her own hands.' 
 
 •She will not come,' said Physic ; 'I've done my best.' 
 
 Mr. Pamphlet laid hold of his whiskers, and not only pulled
 
 THE REVEREND JAMES PAMPHLET. 61 
 
 the white hairs out as far as they could go, but pulled the 
 cheeks out also in which the whiskers were rooted. 
 
 'If you like, I'll take everything into my hands,' said 
 Physic. ' I'll be glad to do so. I'm a man of business and 
 you are not. You, you know, sail about in the high atmo- 
 sphere of theology, and don't often come down to the low levels 
 of common life.' 
 
 ' But this is not common life by any means. It is quite 
 rmcommon,' said Mr. Pamphlet in a tone of distress. He did 
 not like the eagerness of the agent to conduct the affair with- 
 out him. 
 
 ' After all,' said he, tremulously, ' I suppose it is absolutely 
 necessary that an interview should take place. Is there any 
 one within sight? You 11 not say a word about this, now, 
 will you 1 ' 
 
 ' Not a soul of a word. Come along, sir.' 
 
 The agent preceded the rector, whose white collar adhered 
 to his throat, so moist had the latter become. 
 
 The delay at the door had allowed Theresa time to recover 
 her composure. When the two men entered, she put her sole 
 available hand to the arm of the chair and attempted to rise, 
 but the rector bowed stiffly and waved to her to remain seated. 
 
 • I — I — ahem,' began Mr. Pamphlet, and got no further. 
 Physic at once flew to his relief. Strutting first to this side 
 and then to the other of the rector, very much like a showman 
 exhibiting a five-legged sheep, or a dealer disposing of a 
 spavined horse, he pointed to Mr. Pamphlet and entered into 
 a glowing account of his qualities. ' See, ma'am, this is the 
 gentleman, the father of the lady whom Captain Curgenven 
 married. He's a rural dean, he is, and rector of this parish, 
 and a perfect model, ma'am, of what a clergyman of the 
 Established Church ought to be ; and I wish with all my heart 
 there were more like him. Why, ma'am, the curate who comes 
 to this gentleman is as certain of getting a living as Mr. 
 Pamphlet's waistcoat is of stretching down into an apron, 
 and his hat of curling up at the side and developing a rosette 
 iu the middle. Now, you see, to one of his persuasion, in 
 which respectability is all, the situation in which he is now 
 placed is dreadful — is appalling. If his daughter is not Mrs. 
 Curgenven, what is she 1 No organizing will carry him into 
 a prebendal stall or an episcopal throne with such a scandal 
 as that in his family. You see how overcome he is at the 
 very thought ! He is quite pale. He can't even speak — he's 
 all of a quiver.'
 
 62 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 I No, no ! now, come ! ' said the rector, in nervous protest. 
 
 ' Yes, but he is, though,' proceeded Mr. Physic. « Well, 
 now to the point. You see, my dear madam, we are all of one 
 mind; we all think just the same: that this had better be 
 hashed up. We don't want to blaze this unfortunate matter 
 about, and heap shame on the grave of Captain Curgenven, 
 and cut away the pinion feathers on which the reverend 
 gentleman is soaring, and blight the respectable name of that 
 worthy lady whom Captain Curgenven so reprehensibly made 
 his wife, without even telling her that he couldn't do it 
 properly.' 
 
 I I have no desire to cause pain and humiliation to any one,' 
 said Theresa quietly, rising from her chair, and facing the 
 rector. ' For nineteen years I and my husband were separ- 
 ated. He never inquired after me, and I never held any 
 communication with him. Our marriage was a mistake. I 
 went into it as a child of sixteen — urged to it — not knowing 
 what I was doing ; really driven into it, having no other course 
 open to me. 1 speedily regretted it. Lambert never cared 
 for me except with a passing fancy. I would not have come 
 here to find him out, but that I was driven to do so by neces- 
 sity. I came, not to ask him to receive me to himself, but to 
 help me to keep away from him.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' said Physic, < a little money. We all want that, 
 and go for it where we know we can get it. You were perfectly 
 right. He had four thousand a year, and certainly out of 
 that four thousand was bound to furnish you with enough to 
 live upon. The only wonder is that you did not come sooner.' 
 
 ' I was earning my livelihood.' 
 
 I And, perhaps, did not know that the captain was well off.' 
 
 I I did not know that. That I discovered quite accidentally.' 
 'Well, we won't go into that matter now, it is not to the 
 
 point. Money you wanted,' said Physic. ' For money you 
 came to Curgenven, and there you discovered things were not 
 quite what you expected. Unhappily, your appearance so- 
 startled the captain that — well, it was an accident, we know 
 — his hand shook, and he was shot. I suppose it is money 
 still that you want 1 You haven't come into a fortune since 
 you arrived here, have you?' 
 
 'I wish to observe,' said Mr. Pamphlet in a trembling voice, 
 whilst he deprecatingly waved his hand, ' that my living is not 
 good, and it is saddled witli a heavy charge to Queen Anne's 
 Bounty. I am obliged, owing to the elaboration of my organ- 
 ization, to keep the curate, a mission woman, and a Scripture-
 
 THE REVEREND JAMES PAMPHLET. 63 
 
 reader. The costs are very great, so that I am in fact a poor, 
 a very poor man. I do most sincerely desire to hush up this 
 dreadful scandal, but my means will not allow me to be lavish. 
 If fifty pounds, or, at the very outside, a hun — I mean seventy- 
 five, could induce you ' 
 
 ' Allow me to interrupt you,' said Theresa, with haughtiness. 
 *• You entirely misconceive why I am here. I wished to 
 see your daughter, and speak face to face with her. She 
 refuses me that courtesy. I am sorry. We could then have 
 done without the intervention of Mr. Physic' 
 
 ' I assure you, ma'am, the whole matter has been placed in 
 my hands,' said the agent. 
 
 ' Not by me ! I refuse to permit your interference, as far 
 as I am concerned ; and as far as I can understand, the only 
 person in the whole affair who holds the key is myself. I am 
 Mrs. Curgenven, and was the lawful, the only lawful wife of 
 the late Captain Curgenven. But, for nineteen years I have 
 contented myself with the name of Mrs. Lambert, or, in 
 professional circles, of Signora Lamberta. I shall be quite 
 willing to remain under that designation for the future. I 
 have not, for nineteen years, talked of my troubles and the 
 wrongs done me, and I have no intention of talking of them 
 now, after he who wronged me and occasioned all my sorrows 
 is no more.' 
 
 ' I am so thankful, so thankful to hear you say so/ gasped 
 the rector. 
 
 ' Not only so, but Mr. Physic entirely misunderstands me if 
 he thinks that I am one to sell my silence. So long as the 
 property goes as it was willed, I am content. I will say 
 nothing of the past to any one, nor ask you for one farthing in 
 payment for my silence.' 
 
 ' Oh, what a Christian ! what a true Christian ! ' said the 
 rector, pulling out his whiskers, till they stood on end as if 
 electrified. 
 
 ' I do ask one thing, but that is not money. It is a fact 
 that I am destitute— absolutely destitute. I can earn my 
 livelihood if put in the way to do so. Recommend me, help 
 me to some place where I can be a companion to a lady, or a 
 governess to elder girls, and I will trouble you no more. I 
 am a good linguist, have been well educated, can play and sing.' 
 
 ' I will do everything I can,' said Mr. Pamphlet with 
 enthusiasm. 'Why, bless me, there is my daughter, Mrs. 
 Boxholder, wants this, and wrote to me only the other day. 
 I'll recommend you to her at once.'
 
 64 Mils. CURCKNVKN. 
 
 'Papa, you shall do nothing of the sort!' Mrs Ourgenven 
 hurst in. Finding that her father had gone to the bnngalow, 
 she had so far relented from her former resolution as to follow, 
 that she might hear what went/ on. 
 
 ' Papa, you shall do nothing of the sort ! How can you ! 
 There are Rose and Flora to be considered. And you would 
 introduce a person — a person — lost to all sense of decency, an 
 impostor?' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, she is such a Christian ! such an excellent 
 Christian! and' (aside) 'it will save us some hundreds of 
 pounds.' 
 
 Mr. Physic, his beady eyes glittering with anger, brushed 
 up against Theresa, and said aside, ' You fool — you double 
 fool 1 ' 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CROWNS OF SIL.VKR AND GOLD. 
 
 ALICE CurGENVEN was a fair-haired girl with brilliantly blue 
 eyes. She had been wandering in the grounds till she tired of 
 the familiar shrubs and trees, and then strayed through the 
 wicket-gate that led out on the moor. 
 
 Curgenven stood on the slope of moorland that rose into 
 hold granite tors. It occupied a depression down which ran a 
 crystal stream, brawling over rocks, bespraying banks of moss 
 and dense coppices of fern. The osmuuda regalis luxuriated 
 here ; old oaks leaned over the rift formed by the brook, 
 clothed in the thickest pile velvet of silvery moss shot with 
 green. In every depression of the land the trees grew to good 
 size, but when they endeavoured to top a shoulder of hill they 
 were caught and twisted by the winds. 
 
 Alice was not permitted to go by herself unaccompanied 
 into the village, or along the roads, but was allowed to run on 
 the moor within well-understood limits. On the moor she 
 could come by no harm ; there was free innocent nature, 
 wilderness ranged over by sheep, but infrequently trodden by 
 the feet of men. 
 
 In the fresh air, laden with the scent of thyme and gorse, 
 Alice rambled on till she came to boggy land, where grew the
 
 CROWNS OF SILVER AND GOLD. 65 
 
 cotton-grass in profusion. Then she seated herself on a stone, 
 and, after having picked the silver-tufted grass, amused herself 
 with twining the heads into a wreath, which she intended 
 next Sunday to lay on her father's grave. 
 
 Whilst thus engaged she heard a slight noise, and looking 
 in the direction whence it came, saw a red head rise above a 
 mass of granite. 
 
 Alice uttered a slight exclamation of alarm, and sprang to 
 her feet, throwing down the silver-tipped grass and the half- 
 finished garland. 
 
 ' Why do you cry out ? ' asked a girl of her own age who 
 emerged from behind the rocks. ' I am not a pixy. Don't 
 you know me? I am Esther Morideg.' 
 
 ' Why did you come on me in such a way, Esther 1 You 
 frightened me.' 
 
 'I came to see what you were doing, miss; I be come to 
 have a talk with yV 
 
 ' I wished to be alone,' said Alice. 
 
 ' Oh ! you turned me out of the park, or your mother did, 
 the other day. I might not eat and play there with the rest. 
 I might not look at your pretty flowers and fine trees. I was 
 driven away as a dog is turned out o' church, and now you 
 want to be a queen and have all the moor to yourself too. 
 But you shan't. The park and the fields belong to you, and 
 the down to me. You shan't drive me out o' my kingdom as 
 you drove me out o' yourn.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry, Esther ; I do not want to drive you away. 
 I ask your leave, as you are queen here, to stay in your land.' 
 
 ' Oh, it don't belong to me. It belongs to nobody but God 
 or the devil, and the pixies. But I belong to it, and so I come 
 to think o' the wild land as mine. I tell y' I've been watching 
 you ever so long. Do y' see that old heap o* stones there 1 
 Well, in these old earns there' s mostly a chamber, walls, and 
 roof, and all o' great granite stones. Some folks ha' broke 
 into thickey (yonder) earn sarching for gold, and made a 
 hole ; and when I want to be out o' the cold wind, or the sun 
 be too hot, and I'd like a sleep, why then I creep in there, 
 and lie there by hours and hours, so as ' 
 
 1 Are you not afraid 1 ' 
 
 1 Feared o' what? I reckon it 'ud take a deal to fear me.' 
 
 ' Afraid of the pixies 1 ' * 
 
 1 Them pixies won't hurt me, bless y', I belong to they.' 
 
 * Iu Cornwall pronounced pisgies.
 
 66 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Alice picked up the fallen cotton-grass. 
 
 ' There now,' said Esther, coming out from the pile of 
 rocks. 
 
 1 See ! I were i' thickey old earn, and when I looked out 
 o' the hole, I saw you was busy making a silver crown. Then 
 I came crawling down, wriggling all flat on the turf like a 
 long cripple (viper) till I came to the stones, and then I hid 
 and looked at y'. You didn't see I. I can go like a pixy 
 anywhere and anyhow. But look now to this. You was 
 wearin' a crown o' silver, and me a makin' o' one o' red gowld. 
 l>ook now ! ' 
 
 Esther came forward. She was a contrast to Alice in every 
 way. The latter was a delicate, refined child, with hair almost 
 as pale as the cotton-grass ; her complexion was clear, white 
 and pink, and her eyes blue as the speedwell. Esther was 
 somewhat taller, firmly knit, finely moulded, full of physical 
 strength. Her face was tanned with exposure, and she had 
 red hair and hazel eyes. Her clothes were coarse, but not 
 ragged and shabby. Her frock was short, exposing her sturdy 
 limbs encased in thick home-knitted stockings. Her hair was 
 uncombed, in a tangle, and as she came forward she placed 
 a crown of yellow furze upon it. Her eyes were quick, 
 sparkling. 
 
 ' See my crown ! ' exclaimed Esther. ' You know what folks 
 sing- 
 Golden furze i' bloom I Golden furze i' bloom ! 
 When the furze be out o' flower, 
 Then love be out o' tune. ' 
 
 She came beside Alice and seated herself on the same block 
 of granite. 
 
 ' See ! mine is of gold and sweet as honey. Yours be o' 
 silver. Yours is but for the month o' June, but the gou'den 
 furze blooms all the year.' 
 
 Then putting her hands to her sides, she began to skip and 
 dance, shaking her red hair and the furze crown that surmounted 
 it, singing— 
 
 ' There hain't a cloud a-sailing by 
 
 That doth not hold a shower ; 
 There hain't a furze-bush on the moor 
 
 That do not put forth flower. 
 About the roots we need not delve, 
 
 The branches need not prune, 
 The yellow furze will ever flower, 
 
 And ever love's in tune.'
 
 CROWNS OF SILVER AND GOLD. 67 
 
 1 It is silly singing that,' said Alice ; ' what do you or I know- 
 about love 1 ' 
 
 ' But we shall,' retorted Esther. ' You will marry a great 
 man, with carriages and horses, and red jacket, that goes after 
 the hounds, and I ' 
 
 1 And who will you marry 1 ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Esther, suddenly becoming grave. 
 'Perhaps a pixy will carry me away — like my mother.' 
 
 'What do you mean 1 ?' asked Alice. 
 
 The moor-girl shrugged her shoulders. 'I can't tell 
 you all.' 
 
 Then Alice noticed that a trickle of red blood was running 
 down the girl's brow, and she exclaimed, ' Oh, Esther ! your 
 forehead is bleeding.' 
 
 ' Look at my fingers,' said Esther roughly ; ' one can't weave 
 oneself a gou'den crown wi'out blood, I reckon.' 
 
 ' Then I'd do without one.' 
 
 ' It don't become the likes of you,' said the red-haired girl. 
 ' Us be made of different stuff. God Almighty He took a bit 
 o' peat and granite grit, and worked 'em together i' His 
 hands, and chucked what He had made out on the moor, and 
 said, "Run along, Esther, that be you ! " That's why nobody 
 can't make a scholard o' me. They've a-tried it, and they 
 canna do it.' 
 
 She flung herself on the turf full length, cast off her crown, 
 put her arms behind her red head, divw up her knees, planting 
 her feet deep in the bog among the nodding silver cotton-grass, 
 and muttered, half to Alice, half to herself — ' No crown for 
 such as I. I'm good for naught but to run wild on the moors 
 and scramble up the tors. Gran'fer says so. The pixies says 
 so. The school-master says so. And the lady turned me out 
 o' being wi' the other childer, and the beautiful garden and 
 park, 'cos for sartain I don't belong to it, and never nobody 
 can make a scholard o' me, I be a reg'lar good-for-naught.' 
 
 ' No one is good for naught,' said Alice, ' and surely if you 
 would try you might learn. You come to school so irregularly, 
 that you cannot expect to be a scholar.' 
 
 ' All the time I be on a bench at school I be on thorns ; I'd 
 rather far be rolling i' a furze-break, I would. You may cut 
 my hands off, but I'll never larn them to fashion letters.' She 
 pointed at a whinchat swaying itself aloft above the heather 
 bushes. ' Look to thickey bird there. Would her live i' a 
 cage, dost y' think 1 No ; I reckon her'd die. So would I if 
 I went into the ploughed land and gurt houses. I were born
 
 68 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 on the moor, and I'll never leave 'n.' She was silent a 
 moment, considering. 'I hope folks '11 never, when I'm dead, 
 take me down and stick me in the ground in the churchyard. 
 One time I clim' up a tor, and there on top I found the bones 
 0* a dead sheep. Iler'd climbed up there, and as her couldn't 
 come down again, there hor'd died, and there her went away 
 to bones and dust. I'd like that, I would.' 
 
 ' I can't think how you tan like to be on the moor, away 
 from all the houses and the people. It must be very lonely.' 
 
 'I reckon the pixies didn't think that when they swarmed 
 away from the hedging, and ploughing, and planting, and 
 enclosing down below. The pixies couldn't bide in the land 
 wi' the folks, so they corned up here. And here they be 
 everywhere. Up to Kilmar I've a-been a' Sunday, and heard 
 their church bells ring.' 
 
 ' How can you tell such falsehoods, Esther ? ' 
 
 ' It be true. And I've seed 'em dance o' a night. Hark ! 
 there goes a carriage from your door down the drive.' 
 
 ' Mr. Physic has been at our house, but I can hear nothing. 
 You must have sharp ears.' 
 
 ' Aye I and sharp eyes too. One needs both on the moor.' 
 
 ' Well, I must go home, I cannot stay.' 
 
 1 I'm not keeping you,' said Esther. And when Alice was 
 gone, she remained, lying on her back in the sun, looking up 
 into the blue sky, the fresh scented air wafting over her, now 
 carrying some of her red locks over her face, then blowing 
 them back again. 
 
 She drew her feet out of the peat-water, and put them on 
 the heated rock to dry, and leaned her elbow on the turf, 
 speckled with blue, white, and pink milkwort, and looked into 
 the cloudless sky. 
 
 ' Lor ! ' said she, ' that up yonder — God's home — be for all 
 the world like the moor. Not a hedge across it, not an acre 
 on it tilled. No turnips, no pertaties, only stars. No folks — 
 only angels, and they don't know their letters. They be wild 
 as hatter-flights (jack-snipe) I reckon.' 
 
 Then she sang with full lungs — 
 
 1 There hain't a season of the year, 
 
 Nor weather hot nor cold, 
 In windy spring, in watery fall, 
 
 lint furze lie clad in gold 
 Her blossoms in the falling snow, 
 
 Her blazes bright i' Jnnc, 
 And love, like it, bo ever bere, 
 
 And ever love's in tune.'
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE PIXIES. 69 
 
 Then she noticed that Alice had left her crown of cotton-grass 
 on the turf. Esther took it up and tried it on, then threw it 
 away and replaced her own of furze. 
 
 ' Nay,' said she, ' I reckon, though hers be free o' prickles, 
 I'd rather wear one o' gowld.' 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE PIXIES. 
 
 The evening sun fell slanting over her face, and lit a fire in 
 the tangled hair of Esther. She had gone off into a day-dream, 
 looking into the sky, and catching at the white moths that 
 nickered over her. 
 
 At length she sat up. To the east the land fell away to 
 rolling ground and valleys full of rich fertility, but in every 
 other direction was tossed-up moor, and here and there a pile 
 of granite. 
 
 She rose and took her way to a dip in the waste beneath a 
 pile of rocks lower down the hill- side. Here a brook, whose 
 cradle was among the granite masses above, having gathered 
 body, came dancing down in a tiny cascade over a shelf ; and 
 here was a small cottage, hidden behind enclosure walls of 
 stones piled up, their interstices plugged with turf, and their 
 faces draped with white and pink stonecrop. A paddock and 
 a potato-field lay near the house, and there was also a shed 
 that was formed on the principle of taking advantage of such 
 huge stones as lay convenient, so as to economize the labour 
 of building walls. The house was a little superior to the shed. 
 It was low, of one storey, turf covered, with walls six feet 
 thick, the stones bedded in peat, not lime. The floors were 
 formed of ill-fitting slabs of granite, with black soil in the 
 interstices crammed with relics of feasts, bits of bone, and 
 broken crockery, compacted into a sort of cement. The 
 enclosure walls, erected to protect the windows from being 
 blown in by the winter gales, cut off all prospect. The house 
 was apparently very old ; it had an almost prehistoric look 
 about it, so rude and weather-beaten was it ; but the rudeness 
 of the masonry and the lichening of the stones were no real
 
 70 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 indications of antiquity in a district where for centuries the 
 same customs had prevailed — where no tool was used to dress 
 the stones taken lichened and moss-grown from the moor, and 
 piled up as taken to form walls. The cottage had been 
 inhabited, as far back as any could remember, by Roger 
 Morideg, a moor-man — that is to say, one whose duty it was 
 to watch the cattle, ponies, and sheep turned out on the moor 
 within his region. 
 
 The moor-man lived all his life in the wilderness, rarely 
 associated with others, lived on horseback, and the cob he rode 
 would go anywhere, climb rocks, plunge through torrents, and 
 thread the intricacies of a bog. 
 
 Roger Morideg's wife was a woman born and bred on the 
 moors, far from church and school, accustomed from infancy 
 to solitude, never going into a town even on market days, and 
 perfectly content to be outside the pale of civilization. 
 
 Roger and Tamsin had possessed but one child — a daughter ; 
 and as they could not afford to keep her at home doing nothing, 
 when she was grown into a strapping woman she was sent 
 into service in Liskeard. But the girl could not endure the 
 cramped life in a town, and the loss of independence in 
 domestic service. She ran away from her mistress, and was 
 afraid to return to her father. For a twelvemonth she was 
 not heard of. Then she did reappear at the cottage, and died 
 there, leaving to the care of Roger and his wife a little grand- 
 child — a daughter — whose birth cost the mother her life. 
 
 'That is what comes o' sending a maid to town,' said old 
 Roger. ' Dang me if ever Esther leaves the moor.' 
 
 Tamsin Morideg was much by herself ; her husband spent 
 the major part of his time from home. He wandered over 
 the moor, carrying food with him strapped to his saddle, and 
 slept not infrequently in holes among the rocks, wrapped in 
 his cloak, whilst his faithful cob browsed on the short grass 
 near, ready to come to him at a call in the morning. Tamsin 
 had married young. She saw little of her kind ; the neigh- 
 bours were very distant in regard to situation and quite as 
 much so in conduct. The nearest houses were small farms on 
 the edge of the moor, and the yeomen's wives in them looked 
 down on the wife of a moor-man, and especially mistrusted her 
 because of her peculiar eyes. 
 
 Tamsin had had several children, but all had died in infancy 
 save the mother of Esther. All her love for her lost children 
 was concentrated on this little girl. Esther was to her every- 
 thing — her ambition, her darling, her trouble, and her joy.
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE PIXIES. 71 
 
 The child grew up, strongly built, healthy, and very unlike 
 the other children of the parish. Her grandfather paid her 
 little attention, he despised women and gilds. His own 
 daughter had disappointed him. 
 
 As soon as Esther was old enough to understand, the old 
 woman talked to her of her mother, glad to have the child 
 to speak to concerning her, as Roger would not hear her men- 
 tioned. Then the child said, ' Gra'ma, who was my father ? ' 
 
 ' Do not speak about it,' answered the old woman, looking 
 round her ; ' your mother never 'ud tell, but I reckon he wor a 
 pixy. Your mother wor in a place to Liskeard — one day her 
 wor gone. Nobody never knowed whither her'd gone. A year 
 and a day passed, and her corned back wi' you, and her 
 died.' 
 
 1 But, grannie,' inquired the child, ' has my father never 
 come to see me 1 ' 
 
 The old woman shook her head. 
 
 ' I'm sure I canna i?ay. Once when I wor a-rocking your 
 cradle, and the sun were a-streamin' in at the window, right 
 over you, I seed a shadow come on the bit o' counterpane, and 
 I looked up. There I seed at the window a head wi' thick red 
 hair. The sun were shinin' right through his hair, just for 
 all the world like the fern i' winter.' 
 
 ' Did he say anything, grannie 1 ' 
 
 ' No ; he looked hard, and then I wor scared lest he'd cast 
 the evil eye on you, and I jumped up to get an axe and turn 
 the edge up to cut the charm. But he wor gone in a jiffy. I 
 never seed 'n again.' 
 
 The strange stories of her grandmother made a deep impres- 
 sion on the mind of the child, and her imagination began to 
 spin webs of wonder out of the hints thrown out relative to 
 her mysterious origin. 
 
 Esther's sixth birthday was marked by an incident that 
 deeply affected her. 
 
 Old Tamsin had made a cake, and the child insisted that it 
 should be eaten by the little fall of the brook. The grand- 
 mother agreed, brought milk, and they sat together on a rock 
 near the pool into which the stream plunged, eating the saffron 
 cake, sipping the milk, and talking. 
 
 ' Grandma,' said the child, ' what be all they great stone 
 heaps on the high places 1 they be round as a platter, and 
 some have great pieces of rock stuck up on edge about 'em, in 
 a ring like.' 
 
 ' They be pixy houses,' answered Tamsin.
 
 72 MRS. CUROEN VEN. 
 
 * What I does my father live in one o' they ? ' 
 
 The old woman hesitated. ' Sure I cannot tell,' was her 
 equivocating reply. 
 
 ' Have you ever been inside a pixy house?' 
 
 ' Never.' 
 
 ' But my mammy lived there a year and a day.' 
 
 ' Yes, I reckon — for ought I know contrary.' 
 
 'I should like to go inside,' said Esther. 
 
 'You must never say that again. You must never go near 
 thickey places,' exclaimed the old woman, looking about ber 
 uneasily. ' There be no knowing who may hear you, and if 
 they won't fetch y' away for saying of it.' 
 
 'Whereto?' 
 
 ' Why, to pixy land, for sure.' 
 
 ' What be that like ? ' 
 
 Again the grandmother looked uneasily about her. 'This 
 be no place for talking o' the gude volk. Come within.' 
 
 ' Oh, grannie, let us bide here.' 
 
 But the old woman was resolute, and drew her grand- 
 daughter after her back to the cottage. Then she told Esther 
 a wonderful story of a little girl who had been enticed into a 
 pixy house, and had seen there a palace standing on red 
 pillars, and beautiful little people who were feasting ; and 
 then her guide took her through a door into a country where 
 there was no sun, but for all that, it was full of light, that 
 shone from Cornish diamonds, i. e. crystals, set in the roof. 
 There ran rivers of tin, shining like purest silver, and the 
 trees had leaves of copper that tinkled in the wind that blew 
 through the underground world whenever the door into the 
 upper world was opened. And on the bushes, in place of 
 whortle-berries — ' 'urts,' Tamsin called them — grew precious 
 stones. 
 
 ' What be precious stones, now ? ' asked Esther. 
 
 ' Stones of many colours that sparkle and shine.' 
 
 ' Go on, grandma.' 
 
 ' Then,' continued the old woman, ' the man brought the 
 little maid back through the door into the chamber as stood 
 on pillars o' red, and gave her a golden cup out o' which to 
 drink, and when her'd a-put 'n to her lips, her fell back vast 
 asleep, sure enough. When her waked, her wot lying outside 
 of one o' thickey stone earns. It wor eventide, so her up and 
 walked home ; but when her camo in at the door o' her home, 
 all were changed to what it was. Her father wor dead, and 
 her mother grown a poor ou'd woman. Her had a-been lost
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE PIXIES. 73 
 
 for twenty years, and the twenty years had gone by wi' her as 
 an hour.' 
 
 ' I shu'd dear like to see the pixy world and the precious 
 stone 'arts, grannie.' 
 
 'But think, Esther; when you came back I might be dead.' 
 
 ' I reckon I shu'dn't like that.' 
 
 ' Come,' said the old woman, ' I'll show you some o' the 
 beautiful things your mother had ; her had 'em d'rsay from 
 the pixies.' 
 
 The child sprang up : ' Oh, do'y, grannie, show them me.' 
 
 Tamsin accordingly ascended a broken ladder, to a sort of 
 loft in the roof, followed by Esther. The place was dark, and 
 was a receptacle for rubbish of all kinds. In it was, however, 
 a cypress chest sketched over by a red-hot iron with devices of 
 men and women hunting with hawks and dogs. She dived 
 into the depths, and drew forth a small case, which she put on 
 her knees and opened. 
 
 The child crept close to her and looked, marvelling at what 
 was produced — a coral necklace and a pair of Roman pearl 
 ear-drops. 
 
 ' What be they for 1 ' asked Esther in a whisper. 
 
 'Them white things be for the ears. It's o' the likes o' 
 they, so Scriptur saith, the gates o' heaven be made. The 
 chain be for the neck.' 
 
 ' Oh, grannie, put the chain over me.' 
 
 The old woman did so. 
 
 ' Now, graunie, put on me them ear-things.' 
 
 ' I canna wi'out boring o' the ears.' 
 
 ' Then bore them, sure.' 
 
 ' You'll cry, you will. It will hurt.' 
 
 ' No, I won't cry. Try me, grannie. 
 
 ' Then us must go down again,' said the old woman, and 
 she and her grand -daughter scrambled down the laddai' 
 the child wearing the coral necklet, Tamsin holding the ear 
 pendants. 
 
 Then Tamsin got a large needle and pierced the little girl's 
 ear-lobes, and let her have the pearl drops to look at during 
 the operation. The child uttered no exclamation of pain. 
 
 'Now put them i' my ears, gran'mother.' 
 
 Whilst Tamsin was engaged decking out the child with the 
 pearl pendants, suddenly she looked up and uttered a cry — 
 
 ' He be there ! He be looking in at you ! ' and she pointed 
 to the window. 
 
 ' Who, grannie 1 '
 
 74 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 But before the old woman could answer, the door opened, 
 and Roger Morideg came in. 
 
 'What be you about? ' asked the moor-man angrily ; ' rig- 
 ging up the little maid i' them fandangles o' her mother's. 
 You'll be bringing her to the same end, putting follies into her 
 bead. Take them things off at once, and put 'em where you 
 found 'em, or I'll e'en take 'em myself and sink 'em deep in 
 ou'd Dozmare pool as has no bottom at all. Never you let the 
 maiden have them again — mind that.' 
 
 ' Oh, Roger, you gave me a turn, looking in at the window 
 like that.' 
 
 Esther stood erect, her head thrown back, her hazel eyes 
 full of pride and pleasure. The great ear-drops hung down 
 and rested on her shoulders. Now and then she cautiously 
 bent her head to look at the coral chain that hung over her 
 bosom. 
 
 ' Take 'em off ! ' shouted the grandfather. ' Do you not 
 hear me, Tamsin t Would you have the child go the same 
 road as her mother 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh, gran'fer ! but the pixies gave 'em to my mother.' 
 
 ' I'll tell y' what,' said old Roger angrily, ' the sort o' pixies 
 as went after your mammy '11 be after you, if you don't give 
 up them things. Never you touch 'em again, or I won't be 
 answerable for you.' 
 
 Tamsin Morideg, with trembling fingers, removed the chain 
 and the ear-rings. She was uneasy at what she had done ; she 
 really knew nothing of who Esther's father was. To satisfy 
 the child's curiosity, she had invented the fable of the pixy 
 husband, and by repeating it had come to half believe it 
 herself. Her daughter had returned with these ornaments. 
 They were of no real value — sham coral and sham pearl —but 
 they were priceless in the estimation of the ignorant moor-man 
 and his wife. 
 
 After this incident, little Esther gave her grandmother no 
 rest. She was continually asking for a sight of the treasures, 
 and her imagination played with the thought of them and of 
 the stores of jewellery in the pixy world underground. 
 
 When Esther was eight years old she was sent to Curgenven 
 to school. The way was long, over moor and stream, and it 
 was not a matter of marvel that on rough days she did not 
 appear. But she failed even more frequently on fine days. 
 On these latter the moor was too delightful a playground for 
 her to leave it, the air too pure for her to like to exchange it 
 for that of the National school.
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE PIXIES. 75 
 
 When she was at school she made no friends ; she held her- 
 self aloof from the other children. They belonged to the 
 narrow, enclosed lowland, and she to the broad and free 
 uplands. They had nothing in common. She did not know 
 their games — ' There came three dukes a-riding by,' or ' The 
 Ringdove,' or ' The Robber Knight.' She came from a direc- 
 tion in which were no houses, and had consequently no 
 opportunity of picking up a companion on the way. The 
 other children were unable to amuse themselves when alone, 
 they congregated together for their sports, but Esther was 
 never more able to entertain herself than when alone. 
 
 One day, soon after Liskeard fair, the little girls showed 
 each other the pinchbeck rings and the chains of glass beads 
 their mothers had bought for them at the booths. Esther 
 laughed scornfully, and boasted about her gold and pearl and 
 coral treasures, which were to be hers when she was grown up. 
 The children crowded about her to hear of this jewellery, and 
 in her pride she told them that it was pixy treasure from the 
 nether world. From that moment she was regarded with 
 envy by the little girls, and was an object of mockery to the 
 boys. They called her the ' Pixy ' and the ' Changeling,' and 
 instituted a persistent persecution of her. Esther was usually 
 able to hold her own, but when surrounded by a throng of 
 boy bullies, she was overmatched, till one day, when greatly 
 tormented, she gasped forth — ' Tak' care now ! I'll send my 
 pixy father to torment you.' Then the boys broke into a loud 
 guffaw. ' And my grandmother, her shall ill-wish you.' At 
 this latter threat they fell back and slunk avay. 
 
 Tamsin Morideg, probably on account of her peculiar 
 double-irised eyes, but also because of the solitude of her life, 
 far away from all neighbours, was regarded as a wise woman. 
 People came to her to have their swellings struck (i. e. touched), 
 and brought her the kerchiefs of those who had wounded 
 themselves, that she might bless the blood on them and so 
 stay the flow. 
 
 They came to her, when racked with rheumatic pains, to 
 inquire who had made clay figures of them, and were sticking 
 pins into them. They came to her when their cows failed to 
 give milk, and when the sheep were ' cawded,' to learn how to 
 break the spell that was on their cattle. Partly because the 
 profession of being a white-witch brought her in gains, but 
 chiefly because she was thoroughly convinced of her own 
 powers, Tamsin Morideg encouraged the popular superstition. 
 
 Thus Esther grew up, steeped in belief in the reality of the
 
 76 MRS. CURGKNVEN. 
 
 supernatural world. In this world she lived in imagination, 
 and revelled with delight. The actual world, with the raen 
 and women and children in it, was outside the sphere of her 
 thought's and sympathies. She continued to come to school 
 now and again, in careless fashion, as the caprice took her, or 
 when her grandfather interfered to order her attendance, but 
 she learned nothing when there, her mind was incapable of 
 fixing itself on books and feeding oil' black-boards. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE TURNIPIKES' COTTAGE. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Pamphlet and his daughter were 
 returning to Cnrgenven in a gig f;om Liskeard one after- 
 noon shortly after the funeraL The daughter drove. It was 
 characteristic of the rector that he preferred being driven not 
 only in a gig but in his parish. As pastor he followed his 
 sheep ; he led them nowhere, but organized them as they 
 sauntered browsing along. He followed his parishioners very 
 much as, according to Horace, Venus follows her swans, sails 
 along ' vinctis oloribus,' but, unlike Venus, with absolutely no 
 control over his swans, satisfied to let them go their own way, 
 so loug as they were linked into some sort of system and sang 
 hymns void of dogma and inflated with vapid sentiment. 
 
 The road from Liskeard was very much uphill, and the 
 rectorial trap had proceeded slowly, the rectorial cob not being 
 disposed by constitution, habit, and age to run uphill. 
 
 The autumn tints were showing in the woods. The oak 
 coppices had put on chestnut livery. That livery was laced 
 with gold where a beech tree had asserted itself by quicker 
 growth, and the woods were dappled with sombre green where 
 Scotch firs rose above the coppice. 
 
 The air was fresh. There had been frost during the night, 
 and now that the sun shone warmly on the trees, the leaves 
 descended in showers of copper and gold. 
 
 'I am very much afraid that Jesse will never recover that 
 jam of her ear in the gate,' said Mr. Pamphlet, looking at the 
 off-ear of the grey cob, an ear which hung forward and
 
 THE TURNIPIKES' COTTAGE. 77 
 
 waggled helplessly, whilst the near ear stood erect. ' A sinew 
 must have been torn. To have one lobe asleep whilst the 
 other is awake spoils the look of the cob, and if I could 
 exchange or sell her I would do so. People might think it 
 hardly consistent with my position to have a horse with any 
 peculiarity about it. Have you heard any remarks made 
 relative to it, Jane 1 ' 
 
 ' Really, papa, I cannot think of the cob now. Nothing 
 you will say or can say — I am sorry to have to seem disre- 
 spectful, but say it I must — nothing will make me alter my 
 opinion relative to that creature.' 
 
 ' What — the cob 1 There can be no doubt about it, she got 
 her ear jammed in a gate.' 
 
 ' I am not speaking about Jesse at all, but about that 
 woman. She is a low, cunning, profligate adventuress.' 
 
 ' My dear, I think you are hardly justified ' 
 
 1 Papa, in these matters women are better judges than 
 men. If a woman has a plausible manner, a good pair of 
 
 eyes, and ' 
 
 ' Jane, for shame ! ' 
 
 1 It is a fact. A clever, unscrupulous woman can completely 
 hoodwink the wisest and best of men ; whereas to a sister 
 woman's eyes her cunning and falsity are conspicuous.' 
 ' But you have seen her only once. ' 
 
 ' Once too often. That was enough for me to judge. But 
 the very fact of her daring to make such a claim as to be Mrs. 
 Curgenven stamps her— stamps her — brands her.' 
 ' But, Jane, what if it be true 1 ' 
 
 ' It can't be true ! how can it be 1 I am Mrs. Curgenven. 
 As for my not being justified in condemning her, I think, 
 with all due deference, papa, that you somewhat surpassed 
 the bounds of that caution which so conspicuously surrounds 
 you, when you recommend her as a governess to the Box- 
 holders. Surely Pose and Flora have precious souls, and to 
 put in association with them, to put over them, at their 
 tender age, a woman of such abandoned character is at least 
 injudicious.' 
 
 ' I entirely demur to what you say of her. She has been 
 tried and has proved her worthiness.' 
 
 ' Oh, of course, you stand up for her against your own 
 daughter.' 
 
 ' No, my dear, I do not stand up for her against you. I 
 am protecting you against yourself. Your obstinacy in 
 refusing to look at the possibility of her story being correct
 
 78 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 may involve you in disagreeable consequences, and may inter- 
 fere with my influence for good in reclaiming the evil and 
 confirming the good.' 
 
 'I absolutely repudiate the woman's story. I don't mean to 
 deny that Lambert may have done silly and oven wrong things 
 when he was a young man ; but that ho could have married 
 that creature, and then have proposed to and married me 
 without a word about his previous union — papa, it is prepos- 
 terous ! Stuff and fiddle-sticks!' She settled herself more 
 tii inly and resolutely on her seat. ' I am Mrs. Curgenven, 
 and there is no other — there can be none other, save me. 1 
 
 ' Well, suppose it was as you say, and that Lambert was 
 involved in some cobweb, nature undefined, in his early youth 
 — is it not better that this should be swept away instead of 
 being brought to light 1 ' 
 
 ' I allow that. J don't want to stir up scandal with respect 
 to Lambert. He was, I always knew, and did not mind saying 
 so whilst he was alive — and I don't mind saying so after he is 
 dead — a dear, good, happy-go-lucky fellow, who was easily led 
 into anything. A good woman could lead him aright, and I 
 flatter myself that whilst I had the management of him, he 
 was a regular church-goer, subscriber to all the charities, and 
 even taught in the Sunday school. But what he might have 
 been in other hands, I cannot say.' 
 
 ' Well, let the past be hidden, it is best so for you and for 
 me. I have written to recommend her to your sister, as I 
 conscientiously can, and that will get rid of her from this 
 neighbourhood. It will take her to Scotland, and it is a 
 matter of supreme consequence to put the greatest tract of 
 country possible between her and this place, between her and 
 you and me.' 
 
 Yes, but that is not all. You are placidly surrendering 
 my three hundred a year and Alice's position of heiress of 
 Curgenven. By accepting this trumped-up story, you ruin 
 Alice's future, and you make Curgenven over to Percival, 
 who is as unfit to be a country squire as is that cob I am 
 driving.' 
 
 'The sacrifice is very great, I allow that,' answered the 
 rector, ' but great as it is, nothing short of it will secure you 
 against a terrible exposure and the chance of what I dare not 
 contemplate, so disastrous would it be to my prospects — I 
 mean my moral influence in the parish and in the rural 
 deanery.' 
 
 ■ I do not like — indeed I resent with all my soul — the admis-
 
 THE TURNIPIKES' COTTAGE. 79 
 
 sion that there may be truth in this cock-and-bull tale. It is 
 such a barefaced attempt to extort money. If I had my way 
 I would prosecute the creature for it.' 
 
 ' And drag the memory of your deceased husband in the 
 mire ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven gave an impatient jerk of her head. ' Poor 
 Lambert ! no. I suppose one must sacrifice one's own feelings, 
 one's own comfort, to save him that. This is what comes of 
 thoughtlessness. A good-natured scatter-brain is always 
 bringing other people into trouble, and costing them endless 
 contradiction. Well, if it must be 1 Why, good gracious ! 
 There is Mrs. Pike I And not yet churched ! ' The excla- 
 mation and diversion of Mrs. Curgenven' s thoughts were 
 caused by the appearance cf a couple of riders who dashed past 
 at a gallop. 
 
 One was a very small man in tight jacket, and such close- 
 fitting breeches, that one would suppose, having been got into 
 them, it would be impossible for him to extricate himself from 
 them again. The other rider was a young woman with dark 
 ringlets, in a blue cloth habit-skirt. Both were mounted on 
 well-bred young horses. 
 
 The male rider touched his cap with the handle of his whip 
 to the rector as he passed. 
 
 I Well, I never ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Curgenven. ' Not two 
 months passed, the babe of course un weaned, and she riding 
 out in that barefaced manner. What are the lower classes 
 coming to ! ' 
 
 I I suppose she is practising the horse, and getting it accus- 
 tomed to the flapping of a skirt — it is their business.' 
 
 1 Their business, indeed,' said Mrs. Curgenven ; ' it is scandal- 
 ous that a woman who has not been churched should appear on 
 the high road in a riding-habit.' 
 
 ' Of course she ought to have been churched, and the child is 
 not yet baptized.' 
 
 ' Five children under eight, and the youngest not two months 
 old — and a blue habit too ! Upon my word, she must be 
 spoken to ; and, papa, as soon as ever we reach the cottage, I 
 will go in and see how the children have been left. Five under 
 eight years, and the youngest not two months old. It is 
 frightful ! It is unnatural ! ' 
 
 ' And I'll see Pike about the cob. He may manage to 
 exchange her for me. As rural dean I think I ought not to 
 drive a horse the tendons of whose right ear are broken. It 
 might materially damage my moral influence.'
 
 80 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 After driving for about a quarter of a mile, Mrs. Curgenven 
 pulled up at an octagonal cottage by the roadside, against a 
 bank and bed of trees. The house had been a turnpike 
 keeper's lodge, but the pike was abandoned, the trust dis- 
 solved, and now the cottage was let to a horsebreaker of the 
 name of Pike, who, from his residence, Required the popular 
 designation of ' Turnipike,' with the epithet of ' Little,' due to 
 his diminutive size. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven knocked at the door, which was shut. She 
 met with no response, but presently heard a scratching sound 
 within, and then the latch clicked, but the door was not 
 opened. Mrs. Curgenven then put her hand on the latch and 
 opened the door, and in so doing nearly upset a child of 
 seven who was trying with a stick to reach and unclasp the 
 latch. 
 
 The widow went into the cottage and looked about her ; 
 then she came back hastily to the gig and said to her father, 
 ' You may drive on, papa, I cannot in conscience leave these 
 children to run the risk of destruction. One poor little mite 
 had fallen on the hearth, and would certainly have been burnt 
 had not the fire been out, most mercifully. There is another 
 has got hold of a knife, and she might have hacked off 
 her brothers' and sisters' lingers, only, most mercifully, the 
 knife won't cut. There was a pickle-bottle on the table full 
 of milk, and the stem of a tobacco-pipe stuck into it for the 
 baby. I should not in the least be surprised if that careless 
 and unnatural mother had never properly cleaned out the 
 pickle-bottle, and there may be a piece of mustardy cauli- 
 flower left in it. Anyhow, the children have knocked or 
 pulled the pickle-bottle over, and the milk is spilled on the 
 floor, and there are three of the little things round the puddle 
 lapping it up with their tongues, like young kittens ; and as 
 the floor has not been washed ever since the Pikes came here, 
 there is absolutely no saying what amount of tilth, and of what 
 description, they are taking up into their systems along with 
 the milk.' 
 
 ' Well, jump in, my dear; I'll speak to tho mission woman 
 about it.' 
 
 1 1 cannot indeed,' said Mrs. Curgenven. ' If anything were 
 to happen to those poor little mites after what I have seen, I 
 should never have an hour of peace again. I shall remain 
 here and look after them till that unnatural mother returns ; 
 then, of course, my responsibility will be at an end.' 
 
 1 But, my dear Jane, how will you get home 1 ?'
 
 THE TURNIPIKES' COTTAGE. 81 
 
 ' The distance is but a mile and a half. I will walk when 
 Mrs. Pike returns. Never mind me. Drive on, and if you 
 like to send John back for me you may — and yet no, I will 
 walk. Jesse has done quite enough for to-day.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven was a good-hearted woman, always ready to 
 do a kind thing, but never able to do it in quite a kindly 
 fashion. She would go out of her way to do for another 
 person an act which exhibited extraordinary consideration, and 
 yet leave that person tingling with resentment at the manner 
 in which the obligation was conferred. Not one woman in a 
 score, not one rector's daughter in a hundred, not one squiress 
 in a thousand would have done what she now undertook — to 
 manage a swarm of untidy, dirty babes in a cottage, whilst 
 the mother was away exercising a horse. But it was quite 
 certain that on the return of Mrs. Pike to her home and her 
 babes, Mrs. Curgenven would give her a piece of her mind with 
 such force and asperity that the horsebreaker's wife would like, 
 if she dared, to turn her out of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven waited till her father had driven along the 
 road, and was out of sight, and then she set to work to put 
 the children and the cottage to rights. In the first place, to see 
 that the baby in the cradle had not been smothered, so preter- 
 naturally quiet did it seem ; then to pick up and remove from 
 the milk-puddle those who were lapping it and the dirt under 
 the milk as its condiment. Next to examine the bottle, and 
 discover that it was broken by its fall. Then Mrs. Curgenven 
 routed about the house in search of a cloth with which to mop 
 up the liquid. She found two or three, one an old stocking, 
 so torn as to be useless ; another made out of a waistcoat, but 
 that was steeped in paraffin ; and whilst she was examining a 
 third, in doubt whether it were an article of clothing still in 
 use, or one discarded and degraded to be a floorcloth, she was 
 surprised by an exclamation in the doorway of — 
 
 ' Hallo, Jane ! what are you doing here 1 ' 
 
 She turned round, and saw Mr. Percival and his boy 
 Justinian, both very dusty and hot, with long bamboo walking- 
 sticks in their hands. 
 
 ' And what brings you here ? ' asked Mrs. Curgenven, think- 
 ing it easier to throw the burden of answering a question on 
 Mr. Percival, than to explain the reason of her being in the 
 cottage. 
 
 ' Me ! Why, I want Dick — Dicky Turnipike. I want 
 him to look out for a nice cob for Justin and a hunter 
 for me.'
 
 82 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Bat I have come from Liskeard and did not overtake you,' 
 said Jane. 
 
 ' No ; the fact is, we walked out to Curgenven, to look about 
 the place. It's an astounding thing, is it not, that 1 should 
 inherit it? Never dreamed it was possible, but Physic tells 
 me it is to be so, and he ought to know. We were sorry you 
 were out. I took the liberty to ask for lunch, as Justin and I 
 were thunderingly hungry; and we did justice to your cold 
 beef, and all.' 
 
 ' I am Bare you were heartily welcome. You have had a 
 long walk. Why did you not tell James to put the horses 
 into the wagonette and drive you home?' 
 
 1 It will do us no harm to walk — neither Justinian nor me. 
 1 did not like, you know, to make too free.' 
 
 • Oh ! everything I suppose, by this wonderful shuffle of the 
 cards, is yours.' 
 
 ' It is a wonderful shuffle,' said Percival. ' I say, young 
 shaver ' — this to his son — ' you cut along ; I walk faster than 
 you, and will catch you up. I want a word with Cousin 
 Jane.' 
 
 When the boy, with a pout of dissatisfaction, had gone 
 forward, Mr. Percival turned to Mrs. Curgenven and said, 
 'It's a rum piece of business altogether, and I don't under- 
 stand it. Of course, it is all right — Physic says so.' 
 
 1 It does not in the least follow that it is all right because 
 Mr. Physic says it. If you think so, you believe in him a 
 great deal more than I do.' 
 
 • Well,' said Mr. Percival, seating himself on the table, ' I 
 don't mean that altogether ; but, of course, he couldn't do 
 anything in the matter unless it were right. How I become 
 legally the inheritor, beats me.' 
 
 'And it is enough to beat any one but — there, I will not 
 say what I think. I protest against it morally, though legally 
 I will not contest your succession to Curgenven. It is a most 
 extraordinary affair altogether since that woman has dropped 
 among us all from out of the clouds. No,' said Mrs. Curgenven 
 hotly, 'I won't say that she came from anywhere so near 
 heaven, since she popped up upon us from a direction quite 
 the reverse.' 
 
 'What woman?' 
 
 ' What woman ! ' repeated Mrs. Curgenven testily. ' If Mr. 
 Physic hasn't told you, why, 1 do not care to do so. The long 
 and short of the matter is this. That abominable creature ' 
 
 ' What creature? '
 
 THE TURNIPIKES' COTTAGE. 83 
 
 'Oh, you know — she with her hand bound up.' 
 ' The signora ! ' 
 
 • Call her what you will except Mrs. Curgenven. For pity's 
 sake don't call her that. She has the effrontery to say that 
 she was married to Lambert, and that, therefore, his marriage 
 to me was naught. It is one of the grossest attempts at 
 imposition I ever heard of.' 
 
 • Whew ! ' Mr. Percival whistled, and slipped off the table. 
 'You may well whistle. The story is incredible. It is 
 
 beyond possibility of belief except by those who are deranged. 
 My father thinks it better to let the will take effect which 
 gives Curgenven to you rather than rake up a foul and dis- 
 graceful scandal. I don't agree with him. That woman's 
 proper place is the treadmill. It is conniving at fraud to 
 remain inert However, all the men are against me, and I 
 can't help myself. And there is just this grain of common 
 sense on their side, that, by leaving matters alone, we save 
 the memory of Lambert from being aspersed, and he, dear 
 fellow, is no more here to defend himself. Now you know 
 why you are to be Squire of Curgenven — by sufferance, not 
 by right. Excuse me if I speak with vehemence ; a great 
 wrong is permitted — it can't be helped, I suppose — but a great 
 wrong is done to me and my child.' 
 
 ' Whew ! ' again whistled Percival, and then began to laugh. 
 
 ' What are you laughing at 1 ' asked Mrs. Curgenven. 
 
 ' Excuse me, it is so droll — really, the Signora La Lamberta 
 — good Lord — to be Mrs. Curgenven after all ! ' 
 
 An angry retort from the incensed lady was checked by the 
 dashing up of the Turnipikes to the cottage door. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 GOLDEN FURZE IN BLOOM. 
 
 Justinian Curgenven walked on slowly — sauntered rather 
 than walked, to allow his father speedily to catch him up. 
 He had a long bamboo cane in one hand, as tall as himself, in 
 the other he swung a couple of rabbits. 
 
 There was no one visible on the road. On one side the
 
 84 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 coppice, with a few larger oaks where the soil was not so 
 shallow and the rock not so near the surface as higher up the 
 hill. The valley-b-tl was marshy, rushes grew in the meadows 
 (here, and a stream meandered through the bottom, changing 
 11 - course after every flood. The hills on the further side rose 
 abruptly, and were but partially clothed in woods ; at the 
 summit was dense heather. 
 
 Justinian was a handsome boy of nineteen, with large soft 
 brown eyes and dark hair. Any one knowing the Family and 
 seeing him lounge along, attracted to one hedge by scarlet 
 vaccinium leaves, then to another to observe a squirrel, or 
 who saw him stand to listen to the wild laugh of the green 
 woodpecker, would have said that he was as desultory and 
 irresolute and thoughtless as his deceased cousin and his 
 father. But such a conclusion would be premature, for he 
 was idling along, killing time with a purpose — awaiting his 
 lather, who had promised to catch him up — whereas the two 
 whom he might have been thought to resemble slouched along 
 life without any reason for taking it easy — with, in fact, every 
 reason for not doing so. As Justinian walked along, his eyes 
 on all sides and his ears open, he heard a crackling of dry 
 wood among the bushes on his right, and, looking in that 
 direction, saw a girl — it was Esther Morideg — binding together 
 a faggot of sticks tightly with a rope. 
 
 'Hallo! what are you doing there? Stealing, eh 1 ' shouted 
 Justinian, and ran up the bank towards her. 
 
 ' No more stealing than you,' answered the girl. ' You've 
 a-been poaching.' 
 
 'I have not,' retorted the boy. 'The keeper gave me the 
 rabbits.' 
 
 'Oh, ah! the keeper can be mighty free wi' what ain't his 
 own. I've knowed 'n give something better nor rabbits afore 
 this.' 
 
 'That is neither here nor there. What's your name?' 
 
 'I don't care, but you may know — I be Esther Morideg.' 
 
 ' Where do you live 1 ' 
 
 1 Out on the moor under Boarrah.' 
 
 1 You have no right here, taking wood.' 
 
 The girl slung her bundle over her shoulder and leaped 
 lightly into the road. 
 
 •Thiekey be my way,' she said, pointing over the heathery 
 hill on the further side of the stream. 'And 1 be going to 
 take the firing, whatever you mini say.' 
 
 ' You are stealing, you know you are.'
 
 GOLDEN FURZE IN BLOOM. 85 
 
 Without further regarding his remonstrance, the girl took 
 to her heels, and Justinian, nettled at her audacity, ran 
 after her. 
 
 Finding that he was about to outstrip her, Esther turned 
 sharply round, and whirled her faggots by the cord that 
 bound them, swung them about Justinian's bamboo, caught it, 
 and with the weight of the wood wrenched it from his hand. 
 
 'There,' said she ; ' now let me go my road. You've naught 
 occasion to say I be stealing. What's that to you if I be? 
 But I bean't. Miss Alice and me be good friends, and her'd 
 never deny me a few sticks for firing.' 
 
 ' Miss Alice has nothing to do with them.' 
 
 ' Her has though — her's squire now, I reckon.' 
 
 1 No, she is not. My father is squire.' 
 
 ' Your father ! And who be he then 1 ' 
 
 ' Mr. Percival Curgenven. What do you say to that 1 Put 
 down the sticks and give me up my bamboo.' 
 
 'Take 'em if you can,' said the girl. 'You can catch me up 
 fast enough on the road — I can't run on that ; but let me be 
 on the moor, and I'll beat any horse, I will. Now then, my 
 road be yonder. I'll run wi' my bundle and this stick, and 
 see if you can catch me, eh % ' 
 
 ' Done,' said Justinian. ' And look here, if you beat me 
 you shall have free right to pick sticks in our woods as long 
 and as much as you like. My father never denies me any- 
 thing, and I'll promise that for him and for me. What's 
 more, I'll give you a distance — I won't be beaten by a girl.' 
 
 In a moment, over the bank she leaped, carrying the faggot 
 on her shoulder, and holding Justinian's bamboo in her right 
 hand, and ran like a hare over the marsh, leaping from tuft 
 to tuft of rushes. She had got some way before the boy had 
 realized that she was off, and then he pursued her, delighted 
 to have some fun whilst waiting for his father. 
 
 But hardly had he got into the marshy mead near the water 
 than he floundered in over his ankles, then up to his knees, 
 and was forced to labour forward with difficulty. 
 
 To his vexation, he saw the girl on the other side of the 
 little river. She had crossed it, had put down the faggot and 
 was sitting on it, laughing and watching him as he toiled in 
 slow pursuit through the bog. 
 
 It irritated Justinian to hear her shrill laughter and the 
 clapping of her hands, as he floundered deeper and deeper the 
 more vehement his efforts to get forward. 
 
 At length, bemired to above his knees, he did reach the
 
 86 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 brink of the stream, and then he looked across at her. His 
 tall bamboo was leaning against her shoulder, like a rod of 
 gold iu the evening sun that smote down the valley, and her 
 wild red hair glowed in the same light like a halo of copper in 
 the furnace about her handsome face, rich in colour as an 
 apricot from exposure to the winds. Her hands were raised 
 and outspread to clap again in applause, and one end of the 
 rod rested against her thrust-forth foot. Justinian had some- 
 thing of the artistic faculty in him, and he was struck by the 
 picture before him. His ill-humour disappeared, and he 
 shouted, ' I shall catch you up yet ! ' then dashed into the 
 water. 
 
 Instantly Esther was afoot, had thrown up the faggot and 
 started for the wood and hill. At this point the river swept 
 close to the roots of the hill, so that there was no more swamp 
 to struggle through ; but there was a hedge to be climbed, made 
 very compact to prevent bullocks from breaking into the 
 coppice and destroying the young pines planted iu the gaps 
 between the oak-stools. 
 
 Esther surmounted the hedge like a squirrel and began to 
 run up the steep hill-side, aided materially by Justinian's 
 staff. The stools of coppice had sprouted ; they were of some 
 five years' growth since last ' rended ' for bark, and the young 
 oak, Justinian thought, must catch the sticks of the faggot 
 and arrest the girl ; but she was perfectly prepared for the 
 difficulty. She tossed the bundle of sticks upon her head and 
 held it there as she scrambled upwards, dodging the clumps of 
 oak till she had traversed the coppice zone and was out on the 
 heather. There she gained rapidly, and speedily reached the 
 summit of a fine slate rock that rose abruptly from the slope 
 and was scrambled over by ivy and crowned with heather and 
 sloe- bushes. 
 
 On reaching this point Esther, with a laugh, knelt, threw 
 down her faggot, and, ripping the sloe-berries from the bushes, 
 began to pelt Justinian with them as he ascended. He was 
 panting and hot, and by this time aware that he was unequally 
 matched against the wild girl, who ran up a hill-side, steep as 
 the slope of a Gothic roof, with as much ease as if it were 
 level ground, and who, as her laugh proclaimed, had not lost 
 breath in so doing. 
 
 'Will y' now consent that you're beat?' asked the girl of 
 Justinian, as she stooped on one knee on the rock. ' I'll 
 throw y' down your stick if you will.' 
 
 • I will not,' gasped the boy, mortitied, but not prepared to
 
 GOLDEN FURZE IN BLOOM. 87 
 
 acknowledge his ill-success. There was smooth turf above the 
 heather, and he trusted to gain on her when on less steep 
 ground and on ground less dense with shrubs. 
 
 1 Very well,' said Esther, ' then I'll run again.' 
 
 She picked up her bundle, and started once more, mounting 
 swiftly and without apparent toil. 
 
 When she did reach the turfy head of the hill, she set off at 
 a run, whereas Justinian was out of breath, and unable to get 
 any further till he had recovered wind. 
 
 Esther turned, after she had run a little way, and seeing 
 that he made no efforts to pursue her, she came back, but 
 allowed sufficient distance to intervene between them so as 
 to give her the start of him should he resume the pursuit. 
 
 1 Come here,' he said, 'I'm beat. Let there be pax between us.' 
 
 ' I don't know what pax be,' she said suspiciously. 
 
 1 Let us be good friends, then. You said you were that 
 with my Cousin Alice. You shall be the same with me.' 
 
 ' I reckon I will wi' a' my heart.' 
 
 At once, with perfect frankness and absence of doubt in his 
 sincerity, she threw down the faggot, and came forward to 
 him, extending her right hand, holding his tall bamboo in 
 the left. 
 
 He was breathless and hot, the drops of perspiration stand- 
 ing on his brow. He cast aside his cap, and then took her hand. 
 
 'All right,' said he, ' we're chums ! I never thought to be 
 beat in anything by a girl. What a wind you've got, you cat, 
 and how you climb ! ' 
 
 ' It a' comes o' where you run,' said Esther, willing to lessen 
 his mortification by a concession. ' If 'twere on a road, you'd 
 outrun me i' a score o' strides. But on the grass it be differ- 
 ent. You've been 'customed to roads, and I to turf ; that's 
 what makes it.' 
 
 ' You'll give me back my bamboo 1 ' 
 
 'The stick] for sure I will. There you have it ; ' she put the 
 staff into his hand. 
 
 Then Justinian held out to her the pair of rabbits he had 
 been carrying. 
 
 ' There,' said he, ' take these. I give them to you with all 
 my heart. I did not get them by poaching. I am the young 
 squire, and all Curgenven belongs to my father. I have a 
 right to all the rabbits. Take them, they are for you, and 
 you shall have more another time. Do you live in one of our 
 houses, on our land ] ' 
 
 ' I live out to Tolmenna — that's under Boarrah.'
 
 88 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 'I suppose it is ours. The Curgenven estate, I know, is 
 large. Well, I promise you, you shall have sticks for tiring 
 as long as you live on our estate, and shall not need to buy 
 or ask. I give it you. My father will always allow what I 
 promise.' 
 
 'Thanky,' said Esther, 'I'll e'en take 'em, and I kiss your 
 hand for 'em.' 
 
 She stooped to suit the action to the word, and, as is done 
 in Cornwall still, pressed her lips to his hand. 
 
 'Well!' said Justinian, snatching away his hand, 'that is 
 the reverse of the proper order,' and he suddenly caught her 
 face between his hands and kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 She drew back offended and flushing scarlet. 
 
 1 Nay ! ' she said angrily, ' I won't have the rabbits now.' 
 
 ' You shall. If you won't carry them home, I'll go after you 
 to Tolmenna with them to your mother.' 
 
 1 My mother is dead.' 
 
 ' Then your father.' 
 
 1 You won't find him — he's a pixy.' 
 
 Justinian burst out laughing. 'Then I quite understand 
 why I was beaten. There, take the rabbits, 1 meant no harm, 
 honour bright. Now look here, what is your name?' 
 
 ' Esther.' 
 
 'Thon we're chums, are we not? You'll not run away from 
 me again. I hear my father calling down below. He will be 
 wondering what has become of me.' 
 
 Justinian shouted into the valley to Mr. Percival, and then, 
 waving his hand to the girl, plunged down the hill. 
 
 She stooped, reloaded herself with the faggot, and tossed the 
 pair of rabbits on it, and went forward on hor way home. 
 Thoughts were working in her mind, a cloud and then a 
 gleam passed alternately over her face. 
 
 Suddenly she stood still, and, throwing up her head, sang a 
 snatch of her favourite song : — 
 
 'There hain't a saucy lad I wot, 
 With light and roguish eye, 
 That doth not love a pretty lass, 
 
 And kiss her on the sly. 
 There hain't a maiden i' the land 
 From Hartland Point to Brent, 
 I' velvet or i' fustian gown, 
 That will his kiss resent. 
 Golden forte in hloom ! 
 
 ( >h, gulden fur/'' in hloom ! 
 When the furae lie out of Mower 
 Then love is out of tuno.'
 
 A REFUSAL. 89 
 
 And as she went onward she hummed the tune to herself, but 
 always to the words of the same stanza. 
 
 Justinian had reached the road where his father stood 
 awaiting him. 
 
 ' Why, boy ! where have you been the while ? ' 
 
 ' Up yonder, father.' 
 
 1 What have you been doing ? ' 
 
 ' Making acquaintance with the tenants.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that is right. Where are the rabbits ? ' 
 
 ' I gave them to the tenant.' 
 
 ' That is well ; get on good terms at once.' 
 
 ' Certainly, father.' 
 
 'These farmers get as many rabbits as they like without 
 asking.' 
 
 ' This was not a farmer, father.' 
 
 • Not a farmer 1 Who was he 1 ' 
 
 ' Not a he at all.' 
 
 'Oh ! be judicious, boy, don't be on too good terms with the 
 tenants — that is to say, those who are shes. You understand.' 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A REFUSAL. 
 
 Theresa was in the little up-stairs parlour of Miss Treise, 
 that served as show-room. She was packing her box. In the 
 event of a customer arriving to be tried on, fitted, or measured, 
 Theresa was enjoined to throw a damask cover over the box, 
 so as to give it the appearance of being an ottoman. 
 
 She had brought her little writing-desk out of the bed-room 
 to place it in the box, near the bottom ; but before doing so 
 she seated herself on the sofa, with the desk on her lap. She 
 was tired, and would rest a moment before proceeding with 
 the packing. 
 
 She was to leave Liskeard for Scotland on the morrow, 
 having closed with Mr. Pamphlet's proposal that she should 
 enter into his daughter's service as governess and companion. 
 The offer had been accepted without alacrity, for it was not 
 one that greatly tempted. The salary was not high — forty
 
 90 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 pounds — the duties somewhat mixed. She was to help Mrs. 
 Boxholder in housekeeping, entertain her in wet weather and 
 when her spirits were damp, and educate her two daughters. 
 One was to bo -finished off, and the other begun with her 
 schooling; this latter, having been delicate, had not been 
 pressed, and might be said to know nothing, whereas her 
 elder sister was, according to Mr. Pamphlet and her mother, 
 an extraordinary genius, vastly well educated. 
 
 Theresa had gone through many phases of life. Her mind 
 and heart had opened under a kind old lady who had indulged 
 and petted her. Then, as a mere child she had been plunged 
 in the eddies of life, and swept into marriage before she was 
 well aware what it meant — thrown up into this state because 
 there existed no other in which she could take refuge. She 
 had been neglected by the man who had sworn to stand by 
 her and protect her. They had both rubbed their eyes and 
 found themselves unsuited to each other, and he incapable of 
 supporting her ; they had discovered, moreover, that neither 
 cared for the other. Then she had plunged back into the 
 torrent into which she had been cast before, relying on her 
 own strong will and abilities, and for nineteen years had been 
 battling with the stream, now submerged, then rising to the 
 surface, swimming to sustain life, not to reach any shore. 
 When young and sanguine she had hoped with her efforts to 
 gain some place of security. She had long ago abandoned 
 that hope. She must strike out merely to enable her to inhale 
 a few more lungfuls of air, see a little more of the light of 
 day. It was but a matter of time, and then she must fold 
 her weary arms and sink. 
 
 She had tried her fortunes in several directions. When the 
 attentions of the Marchese Gioberti at Malta became annoy- 
 ing, and were liable to affect her honour, and she was unable 
 through lack of means to pay her bill at the hotel, and go away, 
 she had appealed for help to an American lady at Naples, who 
 she knew was shortly returning to New Orleans. She stated 
 her case, and offered to do anything, everything in her power 
 to be of use to the lady — to be her companion, her lady's- 
 maid — if she would release her from her embarrassments. The 
 lady had at once responded to the appeal, with characteristic; 
 American generosity; Theresa had joined her at Sorrento, and 
 gone with her to the States. 
 
 Unwilling to be a burden, sho had striven to earn her own 
 livelihood as a teacher of music and of languages. Then she 
 had become a public singer in concerts, and had even ventured
 
 A REFUSAL. 91 
 
 on the stage. In no case had she met with success sufficient 
 to kindle in her the confidence that she would be able to look 
 to her future without concern. 
 
 She had encountered discouragements, met with rebuffs that 
 had wounded her to the quick, and had been courted with 
 attentions still more galling. Thrown entirely upon herself 
 she had been forced, like a beast that has many enemies, to 
 develop tact, to exercise caution, and to maintain a determined 
 courage. 
 
 A long sickness had consumed what savings she had col- 
 lected, and had deteriorated her voice, so that she could not 
 expect with that organ to earn her bread for the future. 
 There were no other resources left her but to be a sempstress 
 or a governess. 
 
 As she sat, holding the writing-desk, a sense of her lone- 
 liness came over her. She had no place that she could in any 
 way regard as a home, and no one to whom she could cling 
 as a relative; she had not even a friend. When she had 
 taught young girls, her heart would sometimes yearn towards 
 a pupil, but after a term or two the pupil left, the growing 
 affection was arrested. In her professional career as a singer 
 she had made acquaintances, but before acquaintanceship 
 ripened into friendship, engagements in opposed directions 
 interrupted the growth. 
 
 When Theresa was in Rome she had seen in the Paxlago- 
 gium on the Palatine Hill the scrawl of a slave, that repre- 
 sented an ass turning a mill, with its inscription, * Work 
 away, ass, as I have worked, and it will profit you as much.' 
 
 She was going again to the mill, to trudge her round, and 
 little profit would it bring her. She saw before her naught 
 but a future of dull and deadening routine. 
 
 The little desk in her hand was all that remained to her 
 out of her early life. It had been given her on her fourteenth 
 birthday by Mrs. Fenton. It recalled to her the kind tones 
 and looks of the old lady, the touch of her caressing hand. 
 She remembered how, in her childish troubles, she had taken 
 refuge on her lap, and snuggled her head into the bosom of 
 her mother by adoption, and been coaxed and petted till she 
 was happy again. Since the earth had closed over the dear 
 old lady, Theresa had met with no sincere love. She had 
 been scorched by the transient flare of the passion of Lambert 
 Curgenven. She had longed with a tender woman's heart for 
 sympathy, for affection, but had found neither anywhere ; 
 and now she had come to suppose it never could be had.
 
 92 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 When she was old, and sick, and foiling, who would care for 
 her? When she was home to her grave, who would follow her ? 
 
 Her namesake, the Spanish mystic S. Theresa, had in vision 
 found herself seated with her face set to a blank wall — not 
 even lined out into blocks of stone. The sense of weariness 
 in thus gazing at hlankness became intolerable, and she cried 
 out, and asked where she was. The answer came, ' In hell ! ' 
 
 Somewhere or other Theresa had met with this story, and 
 it was to her as though she could now realize something of 
 the oppression and numbness of mind of the saint, as she 
 looked at her own fixture, in which was nothing to awaken 
 interest, nothing to encourage hope, nothing to satisfy 
 desire. 
 
 She was startled from the reverie by hearing a voice on the 
 stairs — ' All right, Bessy, I can find my way up I ' and in 
 another moment Mr. Physic was in the room. 
 
 1 How do you do ! ' he exclaimed, holding out his palm. 
 
 ' Excuse me,' answered Theresa, ' I have but one hand T 
 can use, and that is engaged.' She slightly raised the desk. 
 
 ' Not yet well I My dear, what a long time it takes to 
 patch up a collar-bone. Well ! I have good news for you. 
 The old parson has commissioned me to act. His daughter is 
 too proud to come and see you, and she won't let him come. 
 But here ' — he took out a purse — ' here are ten pounds for 
 you, to pay journey money and for necessary outlay.' 
 
 ' I decline to receive a present,' said Theresa. 
 
 ' Don't. Take it as pay, and shabby pay it is. If you 
 chose to go into court and prove yourself to have been the 
 lawful wife of the captain, no doubt in the world but you 
 could get an order and obtain an annuity out of his estate — 
 say three hundred. That parson and his daughter are indebted 
 to you. They know that. Besides, you save Mrs. Jane's 
 good name, which is to her above everything. You place her 
 and her father under a lasting obligation, and could make 
 them spoon out more jam than this, if you chose. But let it 
 be by little. If you know how to manage it, you can get a 
 hundred pounds at any time.' 
 
 'You misunderstand me,' said Theresa haughtily. 'I had 
 no such meaning, and have no such intention. When I say 
 that I refuse a present, I say that this money, which I am 
 constrained to accept, so as to pay Miss Treise what 1 owe 
 her, is regarded by mo as a loan, so far as it is not expended 
 on my journey. Mrs. Boxholder has undertaken to pay for 
 that.'
 
 A REFUSAL. 93 
 
 I As you please ; but for pity's sake do not cut off your 
 nose to spite your face — and such a pretty face, too.' 
 
 He seated himself on the sofa at her side. 
 
 Theresa at once rose, and stepped from him. 
 
 ' Why do you get up 1 ' be asked. 
 
 ' We can talk together with more comfort when face to face, 
 and with my box between.' 
 
 ' Well, this is not civil to me ; and I have done my best in 
 your cause, managed your affairs famously, and without pay 
 —so far.' 
 
 • What do you ask 1 ' 
 
 1 Oh, none of your ten pounds ; I am not so mean as to 
 take pickings out of that.' 
 
 He looked at her and compressed his lips. 
 
 1 Now, look here,' said he, ' I can quite understand that 
 your position was one of difficulty when the captain was alive, 
 a difficulty, by George, that did not trouble him greatly. But 
 now you are free to contract a new marriage, and a woman of 
 your good looks — - — ' 
 
 ' Mr. Physic ! ' said Theresa, the blood darkening her cheek, 
 and her brows contracting, ' I pray you spare me words that 
 might force me to leave the room. I am glad you are here, 
 for I have a duty to perform.' She put the desk on the little 
 table, and, opening it, produced the envelope she had taken 
 from the desk of the deceased husband. ' I am bound to give 
 this up to you — bound by what is written on the cover.' 
 
 Mr. Physic sprang to his feet ; a look of blank surprise 
 came over his face as he snatched the packet from her hand, 
 read what was inscribed on the envelope, and hastily turned 
 it about to assure himself that the seal was unbroken. The 
 large red sealing-wax impression of the Curgenven arms was 
 intact. 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' said the agent, ' the very thing I have been 
 wondering did not turn up. I knew he had written it, but 
 was not sure he had not destroyed it again. Where the deuce 
 did you find it, and how the dickens did you come by it 1 ' 
 
 ' I found it in his olive-wood desk, in the room of the bun- 
 galow, I think you call the place — where I was put.' 
 
 ' And, you sly rogue, you took it 1 ' 
 
 ' I took it. I did not suppose any one else had a better 
 right to it than myself. My key opened his desk ; it had done 
 so when we were married.' 
 
 ' I am not surprised, then, that you quarrelled,' he con- 
 tinued, turning over the envelope.
 
 94 MRS. CUROENVKN. 
 
 'You did not possess yourself of his seal, open this, and 
 refastei) it1' He looked suspiciously at her. 
 
 1 1 did nothing of the kind. On the cover is a requisition 
 that this should he put into your hands, and yours only. I 
 fulfil the wish of my poor husband in doing this. You are to 
 use it or not, so I read, according to circumstances.' 
 
 ' Yes. In the event of a certain thing happening, undefined, 
 but known to me, I might use this. You can't guess what 
 that contingency was? ' He leered at her. 
 
 1 1 do not trouble myself to ask. 1 am quite sure the 
 enclosed does not concern me.' 
 
 ' Oh, no ; certainly it does not.' 
 
 ' You know the contents 1 ' 
 
 ' In a measure. I was consulted.' 
 
 He looked at the cover, then at Theresa. 
 
 'By Jove!' said he, 'I'm glad Mrs. Curgenven — old hawk 
 — did not pounce on this. Do you think she'd have cared 
 about what was written on the cover, and given it to me 
 unopened? Not she; for one, because she detests me, and 
 would have turned me out of the agency years ago if she 
 could have brought the captain to it ; and for two, because 
 she is too pious to be conscientious. She'd have peeped in, 
 
 and once her nose in ' He smacked his lips. Then he 
 
 thrust the packet into his breast-pocket. ' Why, my good- 
 ness ! dear, you've done me a great favour, you have indeed. 
 Bless you ! bless you ! ' 
 
 He put his hands behind him, under his coat-tails, and 
 standing with his feet wide apart, ruminated for a while. 
 ' Look here,' said he, ' if you won't sit by me, then, you sit 
 down on your box, and let me occupy the sofa, and we'll come 
 to some arrangement between us.' 
 
 ' There is nothing to arrange.' 
 
 ' My dear ! nothing to arrange ! There is everything. You 
 have done me a great favour, and I am not ungrateful. I am 
 ready to return the favour. What do you say, now, to having 
 nie? I've never been married on the sly before, and given the 
 wife the slip, as did somebody ; but, de mortuis, you know.' 
 
 ' You are very kind, Mr. Physic, but ' 
 
 'Oh, sit down, I pray you be seated; take the box, the 
 cover will bear your weight. Now let us rnb our noses 
 together and arrange about it.' 
 
 Theresa thought the best way of parrying what was coming 
 was to laugh and say, 'I am not accustomed to rid) noses with 
 any individual, certainly not with a gentleman. As you see,
 
 IN THE TRAIN. 95 
 
 I am busy packing. Our business together is over, since you 
 have handed me the ten pounds, and I have handed you poor 
 Captain Curgenven's will, or whatever it is. I will go into 
 my own room and write a receipt, and send it you by the maid, 
 Bessy. As you perceive, I am busy.' 
 
 Mr. Physic rubbed his eyes, then his nose, then his knees. 
 ' Lawk ! ' said he, ' I'm refused ! Who'd have thought it 1 
 What is the world of women coming to 1 They've neither 
 taste nor manners.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN THE TRAIN. 
 
 Theresa started for the station an hour before the train 
 was due. This was because the one omnibus which the town 
 entertained had to ramble about the place picking up such 
 persons as had notified their desire to be picked up and con- 
 veyed to meet the express up train. Liskeard is not a town in 
 which the pulse of life beats furiously, nor the whirr of com- 
 merce turns heads giddy. Except on market day there is very 
 little business done in the shops, and except when the one 
 omnibus jaunts about seeking travellers, very few persons are 
 visible in the streets. 
 
 But when that lumbering conveyance waddles about the 
 town, every one rushes to the window or to the door to see 
 who is going to leave Liskeard, and to conjecture the reason 
 and the duration of absence. The draper is outside growling 
 because such and such ladies are obviously going into Ply- 
 mouth for a day's shopping, instead of accepting and being 
 thankful for such bad matches in colour, such short lengths of 
 material, such antiquated patterns, as he has in stock ; and 
 the grocer in his apron is on his doorstep, objurgating because 
 certain customers are going into Plymouth to bring home real 
 oysters and salmon, instead of resting content with his tinned 
 preparations. The omnibus halts at the vicarage to receive a 
 deputation from some missionary society, and to lay on the 
 roof his portmanteau, one compartment of which is stuffed 
 with scalps, idols, and tomahawks, that have been exhibited
 
 96 MRS. CUHGENVEN. 
 
 the preceding evening :it a great meeting in aid of foreign 
 missions, in the school-room, and then bounces <>tT to one of 
 the inferior inns to pick njt some professionals who have been 
 giving a nigger concert in the town-hall, and who have their 
 costumes and musical instruments with them, all to be accom- 
 modated on t he roof. Then the omnibus rolls away into a 
 suburb to take up a lady who is going out of her mind, and is 
 attended by a keeper. Next it rambles off in an opposite 
 direction into another suburb to collect some children who are 
 returning to school, and sob in the omnibus when they do not 
 howl. Finally, it picks up commercial travellers hero and 
 there, with their familiar boxes of samples. At last, when 
 the hour is nearly expended, the omnibus directs its way 
 towards the station. 
 
 Theresa had been able out of the ten pounds given her by 
 Mr. Physic to satisfy Miss Treise, to fee the servant, Bessy, 
 and to extinguish the trifling accounts against her in one or 
 two of the shops. She then had sufficient money left to carry 
 her to Scotland, — sufficient, not too much, though possibly 
 there might be a few shillings over, when she reached Drum- 
 duskie, the residence of Mrs. Boxholder. 
 
 An inexplicable sense of regret came over Theresa as she 
 left Liskeard. There was no reason why she should regard it 
 as a home, and yet she felt that it was the only place in the 
 world with which she was at all linked, the only place to which 
 she was not absolutely indifferent. It was the town to which 
 (Jurgenven looked as its headquarters. The only person who 
 had belonged to her — Captain Lambert — -was buried near 
 there. Mr. Percival had been attentive and kind to her, 
 ho was the cousin of her dead husband, and he lived in 
 Liskeard. She had passed through an epoch of her life there 
 — great pain and anxiety of mind — and the place where one 
 has suffered does somehow exercise a hold over the feelings. 
 She was going to Scotland — entirely strange to her — and to 
 persons whom she knew by name only. She was sorry not to 
 have seen Mr. Percival and thanked him for what he had done 
 for her, but he had not been to see her for the last two or 
 three days, he had been busy at Curgeuven. She resolved to 
 write to him from Drumduskie, and express to him her sense 
 of obligation. 
 
 She had taken her ticket for London, by Plymouth and 
 K.xcter, and had seen her box labelled. She was making her 
 way into a second-class carriage of the express, avoiding 
 equally that into which the deputation thrust himself and
 
 IN THE TRAIN. 97 
 
 lugged his portmanteau, and that which the nigger melodists 
 invaded, and that into which the madwoman was with diffi- 
 culty forced, when a hand was laid on her shoulder, and 
 turning, she saw Mr. Percival Curgenven. 
 
 ' By Moses ! ' said he. ' My dear patient — you off ! and 
 never a word of farewell. There she goes — in with you, quick ; 
 and by the powers I'll come too — as far as Plymouth — I want a 
 talk.' 
 
 The train was in motion, but he helped Theresa in, and then, 
 in spite of the exclamations of the guard and station-master, he 
 swung himself in and shut the door, then looked out, and 
 waved his hat mockingly at the station-master and a porter 
 who had endeavoured to pull him on to the platform by the 
 tails of his coat. 
 
 Mr. Percival turned round, laughed heartily, and threw 
 himself into a seat. 
 
 ' The fun of the thing is,' said Mr. Percival, ' I haven't more 
 than a fourpenny-bit in my purse, and I haven't a ticket. I 
 say — Signora ! no, I mustn't call you that any more — patient ! 
 can you lend me the needful 1 Now is not this a rum situation ? 
 Here am I, Squire of Curgenven, with an estate of four 
 thousand a year, and haven't more than fourpence in my 
 purse. I had a few shillings, but I spent them over a fish- 
 cart in buying some soles I paid for. Now I have only four- 
 pence. Can you help me 1 ' 
 
 ' What do you want 1 ' asked Theresa. 
 
 '. I don't know. Only a couple of shillings or so, to take me 
 to Plymouth. When there I suppose I can get money. I'll 
 go to the bank, anyhow, and see what they will do for me. 
 I've no account there. I never had a banking account in my 
 life, for I never had any money to put into the bank. But 
 they knew my dear old Lambert's cheques to me — and they 
 must take my word for it that I am squire now, worth in 
 prospect four thousand per annum, with — unless they will help 
 me — less than fourpence, for I shall owe you my fare.' 
 
 Mr. Curgenven looked round the compartment to observe 
 whether it were occupied by any person he knew. Having 
 satisfied himself that all were strangers, he said to Theresa, ' I 
 say — now where are you off to 1 ? Not that humbug Mrs. 
 Boxholder, I trust. Not off to the Arctic regions 1 ' 
 
 'I am going to Drumduskie.' 
 
 ' Well, there — what an odd state of affairs it is for you and 
 for me. Here am I a wealthy man who is penniless. Yester- 
 day in despair because I thought my hundred and fifty was at 
 
 H
 
 98 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 an end, now elate because of my four thousand coming in, but 
 just at this present moment fallen into destitution and obliged 
 to borrow a couple of shillings of you, because I can't finger 
 what is to be mine, and have spent all that was mine. I went 
 in for those soles to have a flare up with Justinian, thinking I 
 was a millionaire.' 
 
 It was not possible for Theresa to refrain from laughing, 
 notwithstanding her depressed mood. 
 
 1 1 say, patient,' pursued Mr. Percival, ' can you lend me five 
 shillings'? Then I shall have enough to take me back for 
 certain, without running the risk of being snubbed at the 
 bank. They know me at the Liskeard branch, they don't know 
 my face at the Plymouth shop.' 
 
 1 1 cannot spare you much,' said Theresa, ' for really I am 
 pinched. I do not know what my fare will be from town to 
 Edinburgh, and thence on to Drumduskie.' 
 
 ' Bother Drumduskie — you shan't go there.' 
 
 ' I must indeed. I am engaged.' 
 
 ' Cut the whole concern.' 
 
 1 1 cannot do that. I have no other means of livelihood : 
 besides, I have had my journey money advanced.' 
 
 ' Oh, hang it ! you've been treated abominably. I know all 
 about it now. Signora, have you any cotton wool in your 
 reticule ? If so, do let me have it to plug up that old gentle- 
 man's ears. I don't want him to be made acquainted with 
 our family affairs. Our family — that does seem odd. By the 
 way, Signora, why did you not tell me your real name at 
 Frisco 1 ' 
 
 ' I did not care that any one should know it, but I will admit 
 I was drawn to feel an interest in your poor wife by the name 
 she bore.' 
 
 ' Well, all I can say is, old Pamphlet and the madam have 
 got rid of you uncommon cheap. Lord ! to think of her — 
 that pink of prudes, that paragon of propriety — finding herself 
 to be a very improper character indeed, no better than she 
 should be — it is simply killing. But you don't know her, and 
 have not suffered from her as I have. Bless you ! she has 
 never liked me. She sat on pins and needles whenever I came 
 over to Curgenven, and could hardly contain herself from being 
 rude. Dear old Lambert, she would have led him a life, but 
 that happily he did not mind it, everything slipped off him that 
 she heaped on ; and he as cheerful and cool as possible. I say, 
 amiable Jane would melt into her boots if you blew upon her ; 
 she would, upon my soul. Her position, her morality, her
 
 IN THE TRAIN. 99 
 
 nose-in-the-airedness are to her everything, and life would be 
 insufferable to her without thein. You keep dark, and she 
 lives. Blaze out your tale, and it will eclipse her.' 
 
 ' I am not going to blaze out a tale I have kept to myself 
 these many years.' 
 
 • But really, it seems monstrous that you should come off 
 no better. You have to think twice before you advance me 
 five bob, lest you should not have enough money to carry you 
 to Dustyfiddles — no, Dustydrums it is.' 
 
 ' You must remember the sacrifice she is making — she loses 
 Curgenven.' 
 
 'That she loses anyhow. She should pay you something 
 worth having for keeping a very unpleasant secret.' 
 
 ' But suppose I absolutely refuse payment ? ' 
 
 ' No— do you 1 ' 
 
 1 Absolutely. I was offered it and I refused.' 
 
 'Well — upon my word, you are hard used. But, Signora — 
 no, hang it ! I won't call you that, and something else I 
 suppose I mustn't call you ; I can say cousin, and dash me but 
 I will.' 
 
 ' Very well,' laughed Theresa ; ' say cousin then, if that will 
 please you.' 
 
 ' Yes, I can say so in a railway carriage, where no one hears 
 me, or is the wiser if he does ; but I can't say it elsewhere, not 
 in Liskeard for instance.' 
 
 ' I am not in Liskeard, and shall never be there again.' A 
 little sigh escaped her. 
 
 ' By Jove, that's hard. I say, cousin, I got hideously tired 
 of being kicked about like a football, and was everlastingly 
 thankful when dear old Lambert settled me at Liskeard— the 
 missus wouldn't allow him to quarter me anywhere nearer — 
 and relieved me of embarrassment for the future. Have you 
 never felt sick of being kicked about 1 ' 
 
 She did not answer. He looked her frankly in the face, and 
 saw the pain and desolation written there. 
 
 ' By Jove, Theresa, it shall not be. Hang me to the tele- 
 graph wire poles if it be so. 1 shall have four thousand a 
 year — fancy, such a chap as I, who never in his life before had 
 more than a hundred and fifty. I who was perfectly happy 
 'n a Pill-box must stretch myself out in a manorial mansion. 
 Good Lord ! who'd have thought it ? It makes me astonished 
 bc-)ond measure at my good luck whenever I think of it — and 
 that is all day long. So I am in a continual state of tearing 
 amazement. But I say, Theresa — hang me if I won't call you
 
 100 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 that — I can easy cut you a slice off uiy cake. How much will 
 you have 1 Three hundred 1 ' 
 
 'I'll have none, thank you, but the five shillings you will 
 owe me.' 
 
 'Tickets, please,' said the collector, opening the door. 
 
 ' Here — 1 haven't got one— she'll pay for me,' said Mr. 
 Percival. 
 
 Theresa furnished the requisite sum. 
 
 I You're the gent as got in when the train was in motion at 
 Liskeard 1 ' asked she collector. 
 
 ' Yes, that is he — and, sir ! you have made yourself liable to 
 penalties,' said the guard. 
 
 I I say, old chap ! ' answered Mr. Percival, ' a word in your 
 ear. I am now Squire Curgenven of Curgenven, and I shall 
 travel up and down by your line, and not forget the conductor. 
 You understand — only just now, I've but fourpence.' 
 
 1 Right, sir ! ' Then — ' Your good lady's dress is in the way 
 of the door.' 
 
 Percival turned round and laughed. ' I say, Theresa, did 
 you hear that? I wonder now how long we shall be at 
 Plymouth before your train goes on. I've a great mind to go 
 on with you as far as Exeter, and see you safe through those 
 confounded tunnels in the red sandstone that are incessantly 
 tumbling in.' 
 
 1 You cannot indeed. Foux-pence will not suffice ; and I can 
 lend no more money.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I must be content to see you off. Hang me ! 
 I don't half like it. It was as pleasant to me to talk to you 
 of old times and old scenes, and of my poor dear wife, as it 
 was for Lambert to have me to talk to, a bit of relief from the 
 old cat. What do you say to this ? Will you occupy the 
 Pill-box when I move to Curgenven ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I will not,' said Theresa. ' I have told you I must 
 earn my livelihood.' 
 
 ' You are an obstinate hussy.' 
 
 They had reached Plymouth. Some carriages had to be 
 shunted. Theresa got out, and so did Percival Curgenven. 
 They walked the platform together. Then he dashed away to 
 the bookstall to buy some illustrated papers — swept together 
 a Punch, an Illustrated London News, the Field, and the Queen 
 — and found he had not the money to pay for them. He was 
 forced to surrender all but Punch, which he brought to 
 Theresa. 
 
 ' It is a hideous nuisance,' said he, ' I can't give you more
 
 AT THE VAULT. 101 
 
 than this to amuse you on the way. Confound it — I wish I 
 were going to Exeter with you. You'll be lonely and dull.' 
 
 'Now then!' shouted the guard. 'All for Loudon take 
 your places. Will you and your good lady step in, please? ' 
 
 'There he is again,' said Percival, as he helped Theresa into 
 her second-class carriage. The guard turned the handle. 
 
 ' I'm sorry about the illustrated papers,' said Percival, 
 looking in through the window. 'And mind, going through 
 the tunnels, to keep your head in. I'll not forget the five 
 bob. I'll write ; Drumduskie — that's it.' 
 
 The train was in movement, he ran beside the carriage, 
 with his head in. ' I say, let it be as he said ; why not 1 My 
 good lady — and Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven.' 
 
 ' Now then ! ' a shout from a porter. He was caught by the 
 shoulder and pulled away, without receiving his answer. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIL 
 
 AT THE VAULT. 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven came to Curgenven to take 
 possession in the Curgenven carriage that he had ordered to 
 be at the Pill-box for him. 
 
 He more than half expected that he would be welcomed by 
 a peal of bells from the church tower, but was mistaken. 
 With that tact which so characterizes our English peasantry, 
 the ringers felt that after the tragic death of the late squire, 
 and with the retirement of the widow to the parsonage, a 
 merry peal would be out of place. They knew that a peal 
 would be honoured with a sovereign fee, but they forbore the 
 fee rather than make their bells jar with the feelings of their 
 rector's daughter and the orphaned child. 
 
 Mr. Percival was excited and joyous ; it was a great day for 
 him to come in as representative of the Curgenven family into 
 the ancestral home, a great thing to escape from penury into 
 wealth, and he thought that not all Curgenven only, but 
 Liskeard as well, should be excited and rejoice with him. 
 
 But his elation subsided towards evening. He had rambled
 
 102 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 through the rooms, and had begun to feel that there was not 
 iu them the cosiness of the Pill-box, and that with many 
 servants many sorrows began. But there were other causes 
 to damp his excitement. 
 
 1 Please, sir ! ' said the footman, ' there's Mr. Huxtable would 
 like to see your honour ! ' 
 
 ' Who's Mr. Huxtable, John ? ' 
 
 'I believe, sir, the farmer at Tregolwyn.' 
 
 1 I'll come and see him. Show him into the study. 
 
 Percival followed the footman, and was soon shaking hands 
 with a heavy-browed, dark-haired, high-cheekboned man, broad 
 in the shoulder and at the hip, who walked clumsily, and who 
 with himself introduced into the library a strong odour of 
 stable-yard. 
 
 'Beautiful day,' said Mr. Huxtable. 
 
 ' It is. You want to see me 1 ' 
 
 ' I'm ray — ther afraid if we get rain now, the sheep may get 
 rot in their feet.' 
 
 ' There is a danger of that, I suppose.' 
 
 'And how do you feel yourself now, squire?' 
 
 ' Oh ! very well, very well indeed. You wanted to speak to 
 me, I believe 1 ' 
 
 After much beating about the bush, discussion of the 
 weather, the price of fat stock, the condition of the turnips, 
 the yield of wheat to the acre, Farmer Huxtable came to the 
 point. It was this : 
 
 1 Well, sir, I thought I'd come airly and see your honour. 
 The late squire never somehow could find time or money to 
 put my outbuildings to rights, and there's the roof of the 
 linney failed in, and the cowsheds be that deep in water, with 
 there being no drain, and the airth outside bein' higher than 
 the floor, that it's over-cold for calves and they dies; and the 
 pigsties be against our house wall, and there be great cracks 
 as you might put your fist through, and the smitoh (smell) 
 comes in strong enough to turn the strongest stomick ; and 
 the chimney o' the sittin'-room do smoke terrible ; my missus 
 hev gone to the ex penso o' papering the room, but lor' bless 
 your honour ! the paper be all black wi' smoke already. Her 
 wants a proper register grate putting in, r.nd the chimley 
 raisin' ; and her thinks if the floor were lowered the room 'ud 
 be a better height ; and the rats run about the corn chamber 
 and eat a bushel a night ; and if your honour would have it 
 cemented all round, and fresh floored wi' sawn slates, it 'ud 
 keep out the rats ; and the doors and basements han't been
 
 AT THE VAULT. 103 
 
 painted these eighteen years and be all gone rotten as touch- 
 wood, and if your honour would come and see, they won't hold 
 together another winter. And the roof o' the pound-house be 
 nigh blown away ' 
 
 'And what do you think, Mr. Huxtable, the repairs will 
 cost ? ' 
 
 ' Well, sir — I d'rsay five hundred pounds 'ud do something 
 towards it, but to make it as it should be — I d'rsay it 'ud 
 cost about double.' 
 
 A rap at the door, and John came in. 
 
 1 Please sir, when you are disengaged, Mr. Obadiah Matters 
 would like to see you, sir.' 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Huxtable, I'll come over to Tregolwyn and see 
 what must be done— but a thousand pounds is a great sum.' 
 
 'Well, sir, I could put up, maybe, wi' five hundred this 
 year, if your honour 'd spend another five hundred next year. 
 I'll talk to the missus about it.' 
 
 Then he was shown out, and Mr. Obadiah Matters was 
 shown in. This was a farmer on a large scale. Three decent 
 farms had been amalgamated. When Captain Lambert came 
 into the estate he found Tregowan, Llandhu, Leswith were 
 farm-houses, with ruinous outhouses and ruinous themselves. 
 They and all the farm buildings needed rebuilding; the cost 
 of each would be about fifteen hundred pounds. At the 
 advice of Mr. Physic, Captain Curgenven threw the three 
 together and built large and admirable barns, stables, farm- 
 house, at Tregowan, and pulled Llandhu and Leswith down, 
 or turned what remained into fairly sound cottages. This 
 extensive farm was taken by Mr. Obadiah Matters. His 
 daughters read French novels and played operatic music. 
 
 'How do, sir, how do T said Mr. Matters patronizingly. 
 ' I've come to see you at the outset, squire, that there may be 
 no misunderstanding later. I suppose Physic has told you 
 about me.' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' said Percival Curgenven, ' he informed me that 
 you pleaded inability to pay any rent last court, and that you 
 were five years in arrear.' 
 
 ' I did not mean that,' answered Mr. Matters hastily ; ' I 
 meant the conditions on which I stay on. I have insisted on 
 a billiard-room being built for me and my friends, and a 
 lawn-tennis ground being dug out on the side of the hill for 
 my daughters. It will be quite impossible for me to take on 
 the lease again without these additions being made to the 
 place. We can't pig it as did our ancestors.'
 
 104 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 'I think if you can't pay the runt, I will not ask you to 
 take on the farm for another l<;i -«'. ' 
 
 'You'll get no one else. Tregowan is too large for any 
 West-country farmer, and no man from the eastern shires 
 will eome here — ami if he does, he won't understand our land 
 or our climate, and so will speedily conie to grief You must 
 have me or no one, or break up the farm into three or four, 
 and that will cost you a pretty penny in buildings — more 
 than my hil Hard-room and my daughters' tennis ground.' 
 
 ' I'll talk it over with Mr. Physic, but I don't think, Mr. 
 Matters, you'll find me very pressing to induce you to stay.' 
 
 'Oh, indeed--I'm sorry then for you.' 
 
 1 Please, sir,' said the footman, coming in, ' there's Sir John 
 Carmynow in the drawing-room, sir.' 
 
 ' I'll be with him immediately. Good-day, Mr. Matters.' 
 
 On entering the parlour, he was greeted with cordiality by 
 the baronet. 
 
 ' My dear fellow, I've come over the first thing to call. I've 
 a lot to ask you, and I thought I'd do it at once — at once 
 and done with it. Glad to welcome you into our neighbour- 
 hood, and may you be a support of the pack and a prop to the 
 Conservative cause. In the first place, how about the hounds ? 
 Captain Curgenven helped liberally towards the maintenance 
 of the hunt. You see, my dear friend, we are none of us 
 about here rich men, and not one of us can keep a pack alive. 
 They say it costs a master a thousand for every day he hunts 
 in the week. Well, two for foxhounds and two for harriers, 
 that makes four thousand — and it has to be raised among us. 
 We'll put you down for the same as poor Captain Lambert 
 Curgenven, I suppose 1 ' 
 
 'Oh yes, certainly.' 
 
 ' And then - how about politics. You'll subscribe to the 
 registering agent — but that's not enough. There's, as you 
 know, an election coming on, and we must all work. You 
 must be chairman of the Conservative meetings here, of 
 course, and you must do your utmost.' 
 
 'Upon my soul,' said Percival, 'I've no political principles 
 at all. I believe Great Britain is going to the dogs, and 'pon 
 my life I don't know whether it would not be best with the 
 Radicals to get her torn to pieces and done for finally as dogs' 
 meat, and have it over, or try to stave it off, with the 
 Conservatives. It is a satisfaction to take the pound from 
 him who doesn't know its value, and give it to him with ten, 
 who does know its worth to a penny.'
 
 AT THE VAULT. 105 
 
 'Please, sir — the rector ! ' said John, showing in the Reverend 
 Mr. Pamphlet. 
 
 ' Why, Percival ! how are you 1 How well you are looking ! ' 
 
 Presently, after some promiscuous conversation, Sir John 
 Carmynow left. Then the rector, drawing close to Mr. Cur- 
 genven, said — ' I've called in, just to make sure how we stand. 
 I suppose you subscribe the same to the schools as we had 
 from Lambert 1 ' 
 
 1 1 suppose I must.' 
 
 'And to the clothing club?' 
 
 ■ Yes.' 
 
 ' And to the coal club 1 ' 
 
 ' I suppose it is necessary.' 
 
 'Oh, absolutely. And to the shoe club?' 
 
 ' How many more 1 ' 
 
 'Oh, only the blanket club.' 
 
 ' That is all, is it V 
 
 ' Well, there is the parochial lending library — but a guinea 
 will suffice for that. I didn't quite gauge your views in 
 matters theological, and so I don't know which you would 
 support, the mission woman or the Scripture reader.' 
 
 ' Oh, by Jove — I've no theological views whatever.' 
 
 ' So much the better, then you will pay for both. ' 
 
 ' Thank you — you are very kind,' said Percival ironically. 
 
 'Then,' continued the rector blandly, and passed his hands 
 througli his white whiskers, ' some of us have been thinking 
 it would be so nice to fill the east window with stained glass 
 as a memorial to poor Lambert. I am sure the poor will 
 gladly contribute their pence and the farmers their sixpences, 
 if you will head the list. I think it might be done for a 
 hundred pounds. It is a large window, you know. I will 
 give five pounds, and poor dear Jane another five — out of her 
 penury, casting in all that she can ; and perhaps we could get 
 together ten pounds in the parish. That will leave only 
 eighty — and to you as squire that is nothing.' 
 
 ' I think that must wait. I don't know on my soul what I 
 shall have. The income of this property is nominally four 
 thousand, but I find there is a mortgage on it of two hundred 
 per annum, and the repairs and rebuildings will cost me at 
 least a thousand a year. Put me down for nothing till I have 
 had time to turn round and feel how I sit in this new seat. 
 At the present moment, Mr. Pamphlet, it looks very much to 
 me as though the outgoings were commensurate with the in- 
 comings. Sir John Carmynow has been here about the hunt.'
 
 106 MRS. CURGENYEN. 
 
 ' But the church and parish first,' said the rector in a tone 
 of solemnity. 
 
 Before sunset the new squire sauntered to the churchyard ; 
 he heard the notes of the or^an sounding through the open 
 door. Some one was practising. He had his pipe in his mouth 
 when he passed through the graveyard gate, and he did not 
 remove it from his mouth, but walked slowly, meditating, 
 towards the Curgenven vault, that stood outside the south 
 aisle of the church, and was covered with a large slate slab. 
 Beneath that slab lay the captain. 
 
 With his hands in his pocket and the pipe in his mouth 
 Percival stood looking at the slab, with the newly-cut inscrip- 
 tion on it recording the interment of the late squire. 
 
 A reaction from the excitement had set in, and some 
 moisture formed in his eye. He drew one hand from his 
 pocket and removed the pipe from between his lips. Then 
 he seated himself over against the family burying-place, on 
 another stone, stretched his legs before him and remained 
 with his chin on his breast, the pipe on his knee feebly 
 sending forth a slight fume, and considered — he almost thought 
 aloud. His lips moved, forming the words that rose up in his 
 mind. ' Dear old boy ! I'm confoundedly sorry for you, old 
 chap. It takes all the pleasure out of my advancement to 
 think that I step to it over your jolly old body. 'Pon my soul, 
 Lambert, I'd a hundred thousand times rather be back in the 
 Pill-box, and you in Curgenven. Who the deuce shall I have 
 to talk to and play billiards with, and smoke a pipe, and drink 
 a glass of whisky toddy with now, old boy 1 Peace be to your 
 ashes, my dear Lambert,' said he aloud, and kuocked out some 
 of the dust from his pipe on the slab above the vault ; then 
 put the meerschaum to his lips again and puffed away vigor- 
 ously to restore the glow. ' I swear to you, old man, I'll do 
 what is right as far as I know how. But, Lambert — the state 
 of the matter is mixed so that, on my word, I hardly know 
 what ought to be done. I must say it even here, my billy- 
 boy — your behaviour to your first wife was scurvy — I can't 
 help it, scurvy is the word. And now in the light of eternity 
 you know it, know it as well as I do, and are darned sorry for 
 it, and would like to have it otherwise. I must take that into 
 consideration, and do something for Theresa. That's your 
 present desire, I could swear it. But your past wish was 
 to provide for the second wife — so I suppose I must do some- 
 thing too for that rhinoceros, Jane. I'll do it — and for the 
 kid also, I mean Alice, she's a little dear too. But 1 shan't
 
 AT THE VAULT. 107 
 
 let her have Curgenven. I have to consider the feelings and 
 the wishes of all the other corpses in there along with you, 
 Lambert, as well, and you know as well as I do that Curgenven 
 must have as its owner a Curgenven. Alice is a darling, but 
 she might marry a Tompkins, and then there would be a 
 Tompkins of Curgenven. That would never do. It wouldn't 
 be the same even if Tompkins assumed our name. No — 
 Curgenven goes to Justinian. That's certain, and that is 
 as it should be. My conscience will justify me in determining 
 that. But it's other bones about the widows. How you 
 could throw aside Theresa for Jane passes my understanding. 
 If you had first married Jane and then kicked her over, I 
 could have gone with you there; I'd have done it myself. 
 And that you should have taken Theresa — that's explicable. 
 But having Theresa, to get into harness with that kangaroo ' 
 — he shook his head. ' The world is full of puzzles. However, 
 I need not bother my head about that. It was done. What 
 am I to do 1 For nineteen years Theresa never had a penny 
 from you, Lambert, more shame to you, and for sixteen or 
 seventeen Jane has been spending as much of the Curgenven 
 money as she cared to spend. That's not fair. To be fair, 
 Theresa should have a run on the property for sixteen or 
 seventeen years, and then after that both go shares equally. 
 But I can't go wholly by what is fair — I must go by the 
 expressed intention of Lambert. There is the three hundred 
 for the widow— that was a provision in the settlement. They 
 shall have it turn and turn about, and toss up who is to have 
 the first pull. I shall put away three hundred a year for Alice, 
 to form a sum on which she may be comfortably off hereafter.' 
 
 Then there dashed down the church avenue a boy — the organ- 
 blower released. A few minutes later Mrs. Jane Curgenven 
 issued from the porch, with her nose in the air, turning it 
 from side to side. 
 
 ' Piff ! ' said she — ' a very strong scent of tobacco.' 
 
 Mr. Percival at once removed his pipe and attempted to 
 pocket it ; but Mrs. Curgenven had seen him. 
 
 'Really, Percival — smoking in the churchyard ! — and at the 
 vault ! Upon my word, Percival, I could not have conceived 
 that such a thing coidd be done I Have you no religious 
 feelings — no sense of decency 1 ' 
 
 'No harm meant, Jane.' 
 
 ' But harm is done.' 
 
 'There is nothing wrong in smoking, any more than in 
 smelling a scent-bottle.'
 
 108 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' There is wrong where there is indecorum. What is 
 irreverent is profane, and what is profane is sinful.' 
 
 ' I'm very sorry, Jane. I'll not do it again. I have knocked 
 about in the West so much that I have forgotten some of the 
 ways of civilization.' 
 
 ' Of that I am well aware.' 
 
 1 1 say, Jane. I want a word with you. I am deadly sorry 
 for this unfortunate business about the two Mrs. Curgtmvens.' 
 
 'There is one only.' 
 
 ' The two wives, you know. I have been turning about in 
 my bend what is the right thing to do with you both.' 
 
 ' I do not want you to have anything to do with me,' said 
 Mrs. Curgenven, ' and I refuse to be named in the same 
 breath with another individual to whom you allude.' 
 
 ' It is only this,' said Percival ; ' that three hundred pounds 
 per annum must go to the two wives between them, somehow.' 
 
 ' If you speak like that you insult me.' 
 
 1 1 — I wish a score of men would insult me by offering me 
 three hundred a year.' 
 
 1 It is not that. That I admit I have a right to.' 
 
 ' Not a right, Jane. It is true three hundred a year was 
 the sum settled that the widow should have. But then there 
 are two, you know ; and I think if you could see your way to 
 share and share about, and to toss up who should begin ' 
 
 1 Mr. Percival,' said Mrs. Curgenven haughtily, ' if you 
 mean this in joke, it speaks an obtuseness of moral sense 
 which is deplorable. That you mean it seriously I cannot 
 believe. Understand me for once and for all. I emphatically 
 repudiate the notion of that abandoned woman having the 
 smallest shadow of a right to be regarded as the wife of poor 
 Lambert. If I submit to what my father has wished — that 
 I waive my claim and that of my child — it is solely to spare 
 Ijambert's memory from being aspersed. Good-evening. I wish 
 you may learn to behave respectfully to a lady before you 
 again address her. I am — till you marry — Mrs. Curgenven. 
 When you marry I am the dowager Mrs. Curgenven. Under- 
 stand that, mark, and digest it.'
 
 DRUMDUSKIE. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DKUMDUSKIE. 
 
 Theresa arrived at the little station of Drumduskie, weary 
 and sick. She had travelled night and day ; owing to having 
 lent Mr. Percival Curgenven five shillings out of her journey 
 money she had been too pinched to be able to obtain sufficient 
 food on the way of a sustaining nature, and sausage-rolls and 
 penny buns are not of a character, as supplied at refreshment 
 stalls, to fortify the constitution to undergo a journey with 
 hardly a break from Cornwall to Perth. 
 
 The vibrations of the train for such a continuance had, 
 moreover, occasioned Theresa a good deal of pain in her frac- 
 tured but rapidly healing collar-bone. These two causes 
 combined to depress her spirits and damp that energy, if not 
 vehemence of character, which naturally belonged to her. 
 
 On getting out at the little station she found no carriage 
 waiting for her, and no porter who could carry her box. No 
 conveyance was kept by the station-master, and she was con- 
 strained to walk two miles to Drumduskie itself. She was 
 disappointed and discouraged. Mrs. Boxholder knew by what 
 train she was to arrive — she had been apprised of that ; and 
 Theresa for a moment felt uneasy lest she should have come 
 on the wrong day. With her disengaged arm she felt in her 
 pocket for Mrs. Boxholder' s letter, opened it, and satisfied 
 herself that she herself had made no mistake. 
 
 She accordingly walked on to Drumduskie — the first walk 
 of any length she had taken since her accident. On reaching 
 the front door, and learning that Mrs. Boxholder was out, 
 but was expected in shortly, she felt relieved, as it enabled 
 her to sit down and rest from the fatigue before encounter- 
 ing her future mistress. 
 
 Theresa had been too tired to notice the house and the 
 grounds as she came up, but they made no impression of 
 grandeur on her. The servant who admitted her asked her 
 to be seated in the hall until the lady returned, and as Theresa 
 recovered she looked around her. The entrance-hall was 
 fairly large, but the ceiling was very low, and there was a 
 mark across it as though it were compounded of two rooms 
 knocked into one by the removal of a wall. Some antlers of 
 stags, old Scottish claymores, and a portrait, indifferently
 
 110 MRS. CURGENYEN. 
 
 painted, furnished the walls, that were panelled in deal and 
 painted to resemble oak. 
 
 Theresa remarked to the servant that her Ullage was at 
 the station, but the man doubted whether he could give orders 
 for the boy to put the cob in the cart to fetch it before Mrs. 
 Boxholder's return ; he said he would ask her when she came 
 in. She had gone for a constitutional walk, as the morning 
 had been wet, and she never liked to be in all day. She had 
 taken the young ladies with her. 
 
 After about a quarter of an hour the hall door opened, and 
 a stout, short, sandy-whiskered gentleman, in knickerbockers 
 and gaiters, came in. He was going through the hall to his 
 room when he observed Theresa, came up to her, and held out 
 his hand. 
 
 ' How do you do — Mrs. Lambert, I suppose. I really hope 
 you'll be happy here. Very glad to see you. The girls are not 
 bad gii Is — when let alone. Is there anything I can do for you !' 
 
 He spoke in a very decidedly English accent, with a touch 
 of cockneyism in it. Theresa thanked him, ami mentioned 
 her luggage. 
 
 1 Oh yes, to be sure, it shall be seen to ; but I'll just ask 
 my wife first if we can have the spring-cart and the cob. 1 
 hope you'll get on well with her — but oh, here she is. I must 
 be off ; ' and he skipped away into his smoking-room, nimble 
 as a squirrel, as the door was thrust open with a certain 
 imperiousness of manner that seemed to imply that the door 
 stuck, and refused to open at its peril. 
 
 Then in came a very large stout lady, tall, with an eagle 
 nose, very light hair, and very light eyelashes and pale eyes, 
 followed by two girls. 
 
 1 Oh ! the new governess. Rose, Flora, take off your things 
 in your rooms, and don't let them litter about. Now, under- 
 stand me — no littering. Remain in your rooms till I send for 
 you down.' The girls slunk up-stairs. 
 
 ' Oh ! crippled ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Boxholder. ' My father 
 never informed me of that. This is serious. You never 
 mentioned when you wrote that you were deprived of the use 
 of an arm.' 
 
 Theresa had risen on the entrance of the lady, who seemed 
 to swell and fill the hall, and choke the doors to the different 
 rooms and obstruct the stairs, and who at the same time 
 scented the atmosphere with a flavour of furs and black dye. 
 She had both hands in a very big muff. After opening the 
 door and observing Theresa she had thrust the right hand, to
 
 DRUMDUSKIE. Ill 
 
 join the left, into the muff, and had not offered it to the new- 
 comer. 
 
 ' I have met with an accident,' said Theresa, spots of angry 
 fire kindling on her cheeks. ' But it will pass — I was thrown 
 out of a gig and broke a collar-bone, but my arm is uninjured. 
 I shall shortly have it free once more.' 
 
 ' That is well, for I shall want you to cut out. You cut 
 out, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' After a fashion.' 
 
 I It must not be after a fashion, but after the fashion. 
 Really it was too bad of my father — he should have men- 
 tioned this. It is an expensive journey from Cornwall here — 
 cost me a lot of money ; and one, of course, wishes to have 
 some one who will answer my purpose and not be useless. I 
 sincerely hope your collar-bone will be well speedily. You are 
 Mrs. Lambert— brevet rank, or real ? ' 
 
 I I beg your pardon 1 ' 
 
 ' I mean a real widow 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes — my husband is dead.' 
 
 ' Long ago ? ' 
 
 1 Not long ago.' 
 
 ' What was he 1 I particularly told my father that I must 
 have a lady — a real lady by birth.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry — I am not that. By birth I am nothing, 
 less than nothing.' 
 
 I Oh, but you don't speak like — like a common person. 
 There are reasons, family reasons, why it is essential in this 
 house that the governess should be perfectly correct in her 
 intonation, absolutely free from all dialectic peculiarities — of 
 course excepting a slight touch of Scottish, to which I should 
 not object. That there should be a strong counteracting 
 influence to — let us say cockney twang — is, unfortunately, 
 most important. I am glad you have not that.' 
 
 ' I was thoroughly well educated by the kindest and most 
 refined of ladies.' 
 
 I I am sorry about your birth ; but your husband, what 
 was he 1 ' 
 
 ' He was a captain in the navy.' 
 1 In the commercial service, I suppose 1 ' 
 ' No, in her Majesty's navy.' 
 ' Oh — that is something. No children ! ' 
 'No children at all.' 
 
 ' I see you don't wear a widow's cap. I suppose you thought 
 it as well not — as a governess. I have never seen a governess
 
 112 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 in a widow's cap, and — so it is best not. I suppose you have 
 a pension from Government 1 ' 
 
 ' I have none.' 
 
 1 How is thai 1 Your husband in her Majesty's service, as 
 captain, and you his widow, and no pension I 1 don't under- 
 stand it. I thought that always— bat I'll call Druunluskie. 
 No, I'll go to him and consult about this — it is odd. By the 
 way, I suppose you are hungry ; you shall have some tea. 
 I think before anything is absolutely settled I'll consult 
 Drumduskie.' 
 
 Mr. Boxholder had been a London comfactor. His mother 
 had been a McNaught of Drumduskie. The McNaughts of 
 Drumduskie were inconsiderable — something between farmers 
 and lairds ; but when the McNaught property came to the 
 comfactor, Mrs. Boxholder insisted on his retiring from busi- 
 ness on the respectable fortune he had made, and setting up 
 as a Scottish laird at Drumduskie. He himself was a plain 
 man, with no pretence, who was happy in his commercial 
 world, and found it difficult to fit himself for the new sphere 
 into which he was plunged by the dominant will of his wife. 
 She always spoke and wrote of him as Drumduskie ; his 
 Christian name, happily, was McNaught, so there was just a 
 flavour of Scotland about him. Her persistence in converting 
 the comfactor into laird of Drumduskie amused the neighbours, 
 annoyed her husband, but caused unbounded admiration in 
 the bosoms of all the Pamphlet family, which flattered itself 
 that it had two of its female members well married, one into 
 an ancient Cornish squirearchical family, seated on its ances- 
 tral acres from prehistoric times — certainly from before the 
 Conquest; the other into a Scottish family of patriarchal 
 dignity and manners, with its proper tartan, of course, and 
 its clan, its bagpipes, its own Drumduskie march, and its 
 devoted adherents among the lower classes, who would die 
 cheerfully for Drumduskie their chief. If Mrs. Boxholder 
 could have had her way in every point she would have put 
 the comfactor into a kilt and bared his knees ; but though he 
 was a yielding man to her in many, indeed in most matters, 
 in this he was obdurate ; he tried to split the difference by 
 wearing a very loud plaid suit, but this did not content madam, 
 and she was now engaged in girding at him to join the High- 
 land militia, so as to have some occasions in which he could 
 wear the kilt and flourish his bare knees, and some excuse for 
 appearing in his uniform on official and festal occasions; some 
 justification for being painted, with a sheep-dog at his side —
 
 DRUMDUSKIE. 113 
 
 not for the hall, as that was too low to receive so large a 
 portrait, but for the drawing-room, which had been built on 
 to the old house by Mrs. Boxholder to suit modern tastes, 
 and her ideas as to what a reception-room of the Lady of 
 Drumduskie should be. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Boxholder returned into the hall, and said 
 to Theresa, ' I should like to know the reason why you are not 
 in receipt of a pension.' 
 
 ' Mr. Pamphlet knew the reason, and was quite satisfied. 
 But I am not sure that I have any claim on Government, as 
 my husband left the navy.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' exclaimed the lady, ' that was it. That did not occur 
 to me. He left it voluntarily, of course.' 
 
 ' Perfectly voluntarily.' 
 
 ' And he was a gentleman by birth ] ' 
 
 1 He was. ' 
 
 ' Well, I hope all will be well. I relied on my father, who 
 is a most admirable man, and who, I have no doubt, would 
 send me no one objectionable, though I own I was surprised 
 that Mrs. Curgenven made no reply when I wrote to her. She 
 does not know you, I suppose.' 
 
 ' I believe that on one occasion she saw me — know me she 
 certainly does not.' 
 
 1 Well, we will hope for the best. You must be very par- 
 ticular about the girls being tidy. Flora has a way of coming 
 down late for prayers, and scrambling through her dressing, 
 and not always using her toothbrush ; you must see to that. 
 Rose is wonderfully clever at everything but self-adornment. 
 I have had to complain repeatedly of holes in her stockings. 
 Now you are here, mind, plenty of toothbrush for Flora, and 
 no stocking-holes for Rose. By the way, it was a long and 
 expensive journey. I suppose you must be hungry. I'll have 
 in some tea. Oh ! and perhaps you would like to see your 
 room. I'll ring and send a maid with you.' 
 
 Then Mrs. Boxholder went to her husband. 
 
 ' Drumduskie, I believe it is right. Her husband left the 
 navy. That is why there is no widow's pay. I'll send for 
 her luggage. I did not on purpose order a trap to meet her ; 
 it is as well at once to impress it on a new-comer that she is 
 to take a subservient place — must expect to be overlooked. 
 It produces an effect at once, without a word, you understand, 
 Drumduskie. ' 
 
 ' Quite so, my dear ; no one understands the art of snub 
 better than yourself.' 
 
 I
 
 114 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' You are very rude. It is particularly hard to get people 
 to know their places. You, for instance, need continual 
 reminders to occupy your proper position. Some folks have to 
 be poked up, others to be thrust down.' 
 
 Theresa was shown to her bedroom. There was no fire 
 burning in the grate — none was laid. None apparently had 
 been laid in it, or certainly kindled, since the grate was put 
 in, for the fire-bricks at the hack were not blackened. 
 
 The room was not uncomfortable. It looked to the north, 
 and had a small window. It was furnished with everything 
 that was necessary and nothing beyond, save a bookcase, in 
 which were books of old divinity — Blair's Sermons, Leigh ton 
 on St. Peter, and a few dreary memoirs of very dull good men, 
 who never did anything interesting in their lives, who never 
 did anything at all, to judge from their biographies, except 
 write letters full of piety, written under the sense that they 
 were some day to be published. 
 
 Theresa seated herself on the bed, and waited for her box 
 to arrive. She was tired and discouraged. The phase of life 
 on which she was entering seemed to her the worst with which 
 experience had made her acquainted. There was no help for 
 it, she must remain at Drumduskie to be browbeaten by this 
 woman, to be made to work as a slave. She could not leave ; 
 she had no money to carry her anywhere, and wherever she 
 went she must do something to earn her bread. Was one way 
 much worse than another, now that the artistic career was 
 closed to her? In that artistic career, along with much that 
 was objectionable there was change, there was a certain 
 freedom, and there was enthusiasm for art to carry her along. 
 In this occupation she had undertaken there might, indeed, be 
 interests if her pupils were attractive girls, with warm hearts 
 and well-developed intelligences. If they were apt to learn 
 she would find an interest in teaching, if they were ready to 
 love she would find a delight in gaining their affection. 
 
 She must avoid Mrs. Iloxholder as much as possible. The 
 lady was a bustling person, who would probably have much to 
 occupy her, and that would keep her out of the school-room. 
 
 Theresa recalled the strange proposal of Mr. IVreival < 'ur- 
 genven through the carriage-window, and did not know what 
 to make of it. Was he in earnest, or was it ' chaff "I He 
 had lived much in the far West —gone cattle-ranching, gold 
 digging ; he had mixed with all kinds of persons in the Western 
 States, and had fallen into an offhand, rollicking manner; he 
 saiil things he meant seriously in a joking manner, and he
 
 IN A SITUATION. 115 
 
 made his jokes without a muscle moving — what he meant 
 Theresa did not know. She placed no great confidence in his 
 sincerity when he spoke. If he really did wish her hand, he 
 would write. If he did not write then she might conclude 
 that what he shouted through the window was a bit of his 
 nonsense. She put the thought of Percival from her mind, to 
 think only of her present position, and of the duties she had 
 undertaken. 
 
 Weary with her long journey, and sick and faint with hunger, 
 she sank on the bed and fell asleep. She was awakened by 
 the maid and the groom entering with her box. 
 
 1 Here you are, miss, and please — when you've tidied yourself 
 a bit, your hair, and washed — missus says you are to come 
 down to tea.' 
 
 Theresa, stupid with sleep, raised her head from the pillow 
 and said, 'I want nothing.' 
 
 ' Lor ! ' exclaimed the maid ; ' if missus says you are to eat, 
 eat you must. No one here can do what they Like ; they must 
 do what missus orders, so clean yourself a bit and come down.' 
 The groom had left the room. 
 
 ' Lor ! you poor creetur,' said the maid. ' Well, now, if you 
 haven't been crying ! And you've a bad arm. Come, give 
 me the key, and I'll unpack your box for you, missus notwith- 
 standing, who said I wasn't to do nothing of the kind, so as 
 you mightn't come to expect to be waited upon.' 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IN A SITUATION. 
 
 Next day Theresa made acquaintance with her pupils. Of 
 these Rose, the elder, was supposed by her mother, and sup- 
 posed herself, to be highly accomplished. She was to be 
 finished. Flora, the younger, was admitted to be backward, 
 and to need teaching from the rudiments. Rose was, her 
 mother bade Theresa observe, a beauty of a striking and 
 exceptional character. She was, in fact, not bad-looking, but 
 to an unprejudiced eye would not be accounted beautiful. She 
 had her mother's nose; she was supercilious, and did not
 
 116 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 believe that anything she could be taught would improve her 
 — anything, that is to say, which a forty pound governess 
 could teach. A music-master at a guinea a lesson might give 
 her a hint that would improve her touch, and a Parisian 
 governess at a hundred per annum might assist her in acquir- 
 ing fluency in French. Theresa found that her attempts to 
 instruct Rose were received with stolid contempt. Rose played 
 the piano without feeling, she sang out of tune, her French 
 pronunciation was execrable, and she knew nothing of Italian 
 or German, and because she knew nothing of these languages 
 held their literature to be sovereignly stupid, and entirely 
 beneath consideration. 
 
 Flora was in face like her father, sandy of hair, irregular of 
 feature, with more flesh on her face than bone and muscle. 
 She was an uninteresting child, listless in manner, unintelligent, 
 and though not unamiable, yet incapable of appreciating 
 affection. She was obedient, but gave little promise of her 
 studies leading to any other result than the exhaustion of the 
 powers and patience of her teacher. Rose, Theresa found, 
 was ready to be actively disagreeable ; Flora to be passively 
 uninteresting. 
 
 The weather was wet. The rain had come on during the 
 night, and a steady downpour lasted all day. 
 
 The governess and children had luncheon with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Boxholder in the dining-room at one o'clock. After lunch the 
 lady of the house told Rose to be ready to drive with her that 
 afternoon to pay a few obligatory visits. 
 
 ' You, Mrs. Lambert, will" take Flora out for a walk.' 
 
 'In the rain?' asked Theresa. 
 
 ' We always take constitutionals in this family, whatever the 
 weather be. You have, of course, an umbrella '< ' 
 
 ' Yes, I have one.' 
 
 ' And a waterproof 1 ' 
 
 1 1 am sorry to say I have not.' 
 
 ' Then you will be wet through. No one should come to 
 Scotland without a waterproof. Knowledge is only to be 
 acquired by experience. After a sousing rain in Perthshire, 
 and getting wet to the bone, you will remember to the end of 
 your life to have a waterproof with you when you come to 
 Scotland. I make a point of my children taking exercise 
 every day, for an hour at least. Let me see, you do not know 
 the country. Suppose you go as far as the Seven Dubs. Flora 
 — the Seven Dubs to-day ; you will show your governess the 
 way ; and tell me on your return what observable things you
 
 IN A SITUATION. 117 
 
 have seen in the hedges, in the sky, on the road. Remember 
 the story of " Eyes and no Eyes." Mrs. Lambert, you will 
 direct the child's attention to everything that may improve 
 her mind and ought to arrest her attention and quicken 
 observation, to everything that may be encountered en route 
 to Seven Dubs and back — except, of course, men.' 
 
 The carriage was driven to the front door to receive Mrs. 
 Boxholder and her eldest daughter. The former was in the 
 hall before Rose had come down. 
 
 ' Mrs. Lambert,' said the lady, ' you will see I always take 
 Miss Boxholder about with me. I cannot trust her with 
 any one whom I do not know and on whom I cannot rely. 
 You know she is so very attractive — such a beauty ; and 
 there are all sorts of persons about the roads — people from 
 the South, tourists, and what not, concerning whom one knows 
 nothing ; and a lively girl and an heiress — for she will 
 inherit Drumduskie, as well as her father's wealth from other 
 sources — must be guarded most carefully. Some day or other, 
 perhaps, I may let her go out a walk with you — not to-day. 
 You will remember to cultivate the mind and form the taste 
 of Miss Flora on your constitutional.' 
 
 When Mrs. Boxholder had driven off with Rose, Theresa 
 stood in the porch looking despondingly at the rain, holding 
 her small umbrella in the only hand she could use. She had 
 a light lady's cloak, too light to resist the rain. 
 
 Then Mr. Boxholder appeared in the hall, looking about him. 
 
 ' Miss Lambert,' said he, ' I cannot really permit you to get 
 drenched. Of course you must take the hour's walk, as my 
 wife has ordered it ; but you positively must wear some pro- 
 tection against the weather. I think — perhaps I might ventm-e 
 — I am sure my wife has got a waterproof, and I have no 
 doubt we can get it shaken out and dried before she returns, 
 and so she will know nothing about it having been used.' 
 
 ' Oh, thank you most kindly,' said Theresa. ' I should not 
 venture to put on anything of hers without her permission.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right. Yes. It would be awkward were 
 it not dried in time and hung up in its accustomed place, and 
 she were to discover — upon my word I don't know what we 
 should do. Now consider this. I have a light waterproof 
 overcoat. It won't in the least matter your wearing that. 
 No one will be on the road — not a carter, even — in this detest- 
 able weather. Will you excuse me, and put on my overcoat 1 
 'Pon my word it won't look amiss, and it will keep you dry as 
 snuff.'
 
 118 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Really, Mr. Boxholder, you are most kind ; but ' 
 
 • But, positively it does my heart good to be called plain 
 Boxholder, and not lairded and Drumdruskied. You won't 1 
 — well, go out in this rain unprotected you shall not. Let me 
 see ! The gig umbrella ! no, that is too heavy for you to hold 
 up. I have it, my tartan — the Drumduskie plaid excogitated 
 by her ladyship. Spread it out and use it as a shawl. Bless 
 you! if she does see it has been rained up.ni she'll be as 
 pleased as Punch, thinking I have been out figuring in my 
 tartan. She'll never fancy you wore it. And I'll take a turn 
 afterwards round the garden in it, and then, with a white 
 conscience, swear I wore it.' 
 
 The good-natured cornfactor would take no refusal : he 
 enveloped Theresa in the plaid. 
 
 'There,' said he, 'that's first-rate. Don't you be afraid that 
 Flora will peach. Not she. She's too much afraid of mammy ; 
 ain't you, Flora ? ' 
 
 Then back into his smoking-room dived Drumduskie, and 
 Theresa and her pupil sallied forth into the rain. 
 
 It was not possible through the veil of descending raindrops 
 to see anything of the landscape, or much in the hedges, on 
 which to comment for the illumination and nutriment of the 
 pupil's mind ; and of travellers along the road there were 
 none. 
 
 ' What are the Seven Dubs ? ' asked Theresa. 
 
 * I don't know,' answei*ed Flora. 
 
 ' But you know where they are 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes— I think so.' 
 
 1 Are there seven any things there ? ' 
 
 1 I'm sure I don't know. But please, Mrs. Lambert, don't 
 ask me questions. Mamma said I was to inquire of you, and 
 not be put off, she said, by being questioned myself.' 
 
 Days and weeks passed at Drumduskie. Days not always 
 wet ; but fair as well as wet, all went in the house in the same 
 routine of lessons, meals, and walks. Flora was catechize 1 by 
 her mother every few days, and then Theresa was lectured by 
 her on the disappointment occasioned by the slow progress 
 made by the unfortunate child. 
 
 ' The talents are there,' said .Mrs. Boxholder, tapping the low 
 dull brow of the girl; 'they have to be brought out. That is 
 your work. That is what is expected of you, Mrs. Lambert. 
 She is a Drumduskie, and therefore cannot be a fool, and no 
 folly, I can assure you, comes to her from the Pamphlets. 
 The Pamphlets are a remarkably active-minded family. No —
 
 IN A SITUATION. 119 
 
 the faculties are locked in the child, and what we want is to 
 have them drawn out. I am sorry that so far, somehow, you 
 do not seem to have hit on the right system, or have gone 
 the wrong way to work — Flora does not seem to me to have 
 got on a bit.' 
 
 Again and again did Theresa ask herself whether it would 
 be possible for her to endure the slavery in this house for an 
 entire twelvemonth. She was forced to exercise over herself 
 the greatest control when her blood boiled up at the insolence 
 of the woman who was mistress of the place. The poor girl 
 Flora cowered before her mother — was worried by her into 
 stupidity or sullenness. She really had few abilities, unhappily 
 she had no more lovableness in her than exists in a bit of 
 putty ; yet Mr. Boxholder loved best this his youngest, and 
 sought occasion to show her fondness, unobserved by his wife, 
 who rebuked him when she detected him with Flora, as spoiling 
 the girl, and distracting her mind from her lessons. There 
 was no escape possible for Theresa — she had no money, and 
 must remain at Drumduskie, and endure what was put on 
 her, till she had earned sufficient to enable her to leave. She 
 had, moreover, more than half engaged to stay the twelve- 
 month with the Boxholders when an arrangement had been 
 made relative to her going there. 
 
 A month passed before a line reached her from Mr. Percival 
 Curgenven, and that was a mere apology for not having 
 returned the borrowed five shillings earlier. The matter had 
 escaped his recollection, he said, owing to the press of affairs 
 on his attention consequent on his entering on possession of 
 the estate. He did enclose a post-office order for a crown, and 
 for a crown only. He had apparently forgotten his offer of 
 three hundred pounds, and also his offer of himself. 
 
 The receipt of this letter a little disappointed Theresa. She 
 was too sensible to allow that she had a right to feel real dis- 
 appointment, and yet under the depressing atmosphere of 
 Drumduskie this did somewhat weigh on her spirits. She 
 had built no sort of hopes on the offer that had been made 
 her, but she felt that she had a right to be hurt at the 
 frivolous and inconsiderate manner in which she had been 
 treated — an offer made her, flung through a carriage-window, 
 and he who made the offer never troubling himself to know 
 whether it were accepted or not, and apparently not him- 
 self concerning whether it had been taken seriously or as 
 a joke. 
 
 After a while Theresa was able to use her left arm again.
 
 120 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 The nearest surgeon was called in to advise when she might 
 discard the sling. 'But you understand,' Baid Mrs. Boxholdar, 
 ' he will send in his account for professional attendance to 
 you, Mrs. Lambert. We do not pay the bills of our 
 governesses, or they would be always shamming sickness, and 
 running up tremendous accounts. They cost us enough as 
 it is.' 
 
 Some trouble arose occasionally from Mr. Boxholder being 
 discovered in the school-room, or from his exchanging a few 
 words with Theresa, whom he insisted on designating Miss, 
 though corrected repeatedly by his wife. He went into the 
 school-room to see his favourite child, kiss her and encourage 
 her ; and he spoke to Theresa when he had an opportunity, 
 out of kindliness of heart. At table at meals he might not 
 look across at her, or in any other direction than his wife, 
 or address any observations to Theresa. To do so provoked 
 unpleasantnesses. 
 
 Theresa was surprised at first to find that the servants in 
 the house were English. By degrees the reason came out. 
 Mrs. Boxholder so worried her domestics that no Scotch girls 
 would remain with her, and she was obliged to obtain her 
 servants from England, and from a great distance, so as to 
 ensure their remaining in their places. By this means she 
 had them at her mercy, or, to be more correct, at her disposal, 
 for at least six months, owing to the expense of the return 
 journey to England. The two girls, Rose and Flora, had, 
 moreover, gone through the hands of a succession of govern- 
 esses, who had had the moulding of them each for a very 
 brief space ; either Mrs. Boxholder had made life at Drum- 
 duskie unendurable to the ladies, and they had thrown up the 
 situation, or the lady had bundled them off because they did 
 not prove tractable under her objurgations. The systems 
 under which the girls had been taught varied with their 
 governesses. One held by ' Mangnall's Questions ' and Blair's 
 ' Compendium of the Sciences ' ; another followed the last 
 approved methods of the schools. One grounded and another 
 topped ; one went upon the sy.stem of making all instruction 
 palatable, teaching history through James's and Scott's 
 Novels, and geography through imaginary voyages ; another 
 by reducing all instruction to bare bones, making of it i 
 hard list of names and dates and unpalatable and indigestible 
 facts. 
 
 Theresa found that the fresh air of Scotland was restoring 
 her strength, her spirits, and that vigour of mind which had
 
 ALICE. 121 
 
 carried her through her life hitherto, but which had given 
 way temporarily under sickness and disappointment. Her 
 blood began to circulate faster, her eye resumed its fire, and 
 as her health was restored, with it came a combative spirit 
 that ill-brooked the overbearing manners of Mrs. Boxholder. 
 That lady little knew how nearly she drove her governess to 
 an outbreak ; but Theresa had acquired self-control in her 
 professional career, and she was able to restrain herself under 
 provocation, and await her own convenience for leaving 
 Drumduskie. She was well aware that if she departed before 
 six months were up Mrs. Boxholder would withdraw from 
 her salary the sum that the journey had cost from Liskeard 
 to Perth. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 Justinian Curgenven experienced none of those vexations, 
 in taking possession of the Curgenven estate, that marred the 
 satisfaction of his father. He was not called upon for sub- 
 scriptions, nor harassed for repairs. No one wanted him to 
 speak at political meetings, and take the chair at missionary 
 gatherings. He was as much courted as a prince, and felt 
 all his consequence as heir-apparent to the principality of 
 Curgenven. Justinian had never thought disparagingly of 
 himself, and now he was inclined to consider himself very 
 highly indeed. He tossed his head, walked erect, was a little 
 more careful about his dress — not to run about with his boot- 
 strings untied, nor out-at-elbows. He cocked his cap conse- 
 quentially, and stalked in the middle of the road. For the 
 first few days Justinian was perfectly happy, as there was 
 novelty in the situation, and variety in the objects presented 
 to his eyes. What formerly he had looked at with curiosity, 
 but had never been suffered to touch by Mrs. Curgenven, he 
 now handled freely. Portions of the hou:-e to which he had 
 never been invited he explored at will. But after a few days 
 he began to feel bored. He had not fitted into the new 
 surroundings so as to feel comfortable in them. He lounged 
 in a chair and yawned. He pulled down book after book in
 
 122 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 the library, and found them alike old dull stuff. He gravitated 
 to his father, his wonted companion, and found his father's 
 time taken up with business. The hilarity and olThandeduess 
 of Mr. Percival were gone ; he was fagged, vexed, uneasy, and 
 the boy's humour took the same tinge of discouragement. 
 Curgenven was large and splendid, but the Pill-box was cosy. 
 'After all,' thought Mr. Percival, 'on my hundred and fifty 
 I was jollier in the Pill-box.' Justinian bad not reached this 
 depth of repining, but he began to admit that he regretted 
 the free-and-easy, slouching, sullii ieut-unto the day life in 
 the Pill-box. 
 
 Unkind to Justinian Mrs. Curgenven had never been. She 
 had felt interest in the boy, and regret that his education 
 had been neglected. She had spoken to his father on this 
 matter. Mr. Percival readily admitted that Justinian hail 
 not been kept to his books, nor taught submission to control. 
 But this admission led to no results. Percival did not fret 
 himself over his son's deficiencies, and he took no active steps 
 to rectify what he knew was amiss. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven had never liked Percival, but she had never 
 quarrelled with him. She was a woman of strict views as 
 to the conduct of life, and her own ways were orderly in 
 accordance with her principles. The easy indifference of 
 Percival offended her. In her opinion, he exaggerated into 
 defects the weaknesses of her husband. Lambert, if left to 
 her, might have been kept in order, but he broke away from 
 restraint and relapsed under the influence of his cousin. She 
 had not openly discouraged the visits of Percival to Curgenven, 
 but she had received him without warmth when he came, and 
 hnd expressed no wish to see him again when he left. Her 
 manner towards him had been civil and distant. 
 
 Now that Percival was squire of Curgenven Jane kept 
 aloof, partly, perhaps, because it would be painful to her to 
 revisit her former home, where she had been happy ; yet fid is. 
 Curgenven was not the woman to consider her own feelings ; 
 the main reason for her abstention was that the negative 
 feeling towards Percival she had entertained in the past was 
 converted into positive aversion since he let her understand 
 that he believed in the marri.-ige of Lambert with Theresa, 
 and that consequently her own position had been equivocal. 
 She resolutely set her face against all inquiry into this matter, 
 as she would have set it against an investigation into the 
 authenticity of the Pentateuch, or into the legitimacy of the 
 authority of the down.
 
 ALICE. 123 
 
 When she met Mr. Percival, as she needs must, it was with 
 the same tolerant condescension with which she would have 
 conversed with a Dissenting grocer or a Radical plumber. 
 Percival, by admitting the possibility of a doubt as to her 
 position being morally and legally unassailable, had fallen 
 from that sublime sphere in which she moved, and in which 
 were her convictions. She could stoop to speak with those 
 who belonged to an inferior order of beings, but such converse 
 must be carried on upon conditions. Of these there were two 
 — either the member of that inferior order must be carried up 
 in a brief ecstatic trance into her seventh heaven, there to be 
 dazzled by her transcendent glory ; or she must herself descend, 
 and be recognized as graciously descending, also for a brief 
 space, to be a prophet of the truth and angel of revelation to 
 those below. 
 
 With Alice, Justinian had been on excellent terms. She 
 was a bright, charming girl, oppressed by her mother, and 
 effervescing with happiness when the pressure was for a while 
 removed. She was delighted to associate with a cousin of about 
 her own age, as she had no companions iu the neigh bom-hood 
 for whom she cared greatly. The independence of Justinian, his 
 self-confidence, his unflagging good-humour, affected her girlish 
 imagination. She was disposed, in rebellious moods, to dis- 
 pute the reiterated assertion of her mother that the young 
 fellow was uneducated and ignorant as a boor. She admired 
 his readiness of resource, his experimental knowledge of the 
 world and of men, rare in a youth. But, indeed, Justinian's 
 years had been passed in scenes various, and among many 
 strange persons ; he was intelligent, he had observed much, 
 and had acquired much from his father's conversation — and 
 his father had knocked about over all the quarters of the 
 globe. 
 
 Among the many methods adopted for stunting the intel- 
 ligence by the directors of education is that of teaching 
 geography by rote. Alice had been required to learn that of 
 the United States in the approved manner. She had acquired 
 a list of cities, states, rivers, mountains, the population of the 
 towns, the altitude of the mountains, and the amount of cubic 
 feet of water rolled down by the rivers. Her head had been 
 stuffed with these solid and uninteresting facts, which happily 
 a healthy and vigorous nature enables children so taught to 
 reject immediately after their examination — as healthy and 
 vigorous stomachs reject unwholesome, indigestible food. 
 
 But Justinian had been in the • States.' He had tarried
 
 124 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 more or less briefly in several of the towns, could describe 
 them, could tell some incident that had befallen him or his 
 father in them. At once the girl became interested, looked 
 these places out on the map, and never after forgot them or 
 their position. The Cape, New Zealand, China — Mr. Percival 
 Curgenven had been every where, and hud hud droll experiences 
 everywhere, all which hud been retailed to his son, and his son 
 retailed them to Alice, who laughed and identified these locali- 
 ties thenceforth. 
 
 It was wonderful to her how readily Justinian could calcu- 
 late, by ways of his own, in his head, and reach a result 
 quicker and with more correctness than could she by rule on 
 the slate. 
 
 In a knowledge of history Justinian was deficient. But one 
 rainy day, when he and his father were staying at Curgenven, 
 he had asked Alice to tell him what she knew about the family 
 portruits. Unhappily the traditions had been broken by the 
 transfer of the estate from the old squire to Captain Lambert, 
 so that what she knew she derived partly from stories her 
 father remembered to have been told when he was a child, but 
 chiefly from her mother, who, with somewhat pedantic pre- 
 cision, had remembered what had been told her by Squire 
 Justinian in past days relative to the ancient Curgenvens. 
 
 The young Justinian had a tolerably high opinion of his 
 family, and was interested to hear about its past. But he 
 became greatly confused in the history — he could not tell the 
 order in which the English kings came, and was sensible of a 
 little shame when Alice caught him out in an egregious chro- 
 nological blunder. 
 
 'The first portrait we have,' said she, ' is of a Ralph Cur- 
 genven in the reign of James I.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Justinian, ' 1 must read up that reign. Of 
 course he did great things in it — fought in the Crusades, no 
 doubt.' 
 
 ' How can you say such things, Justin ? There had been no 
 Crusades since lL'70 — that under Saint Louis, in which he died 
 at Carthage. James I. of England and VI. of Scotland came 
 to the throne in 1603 and died in 1625.' 
 
 'To be sure,' said Justinian abashed. 'But there were 
 Curgenvens before that.' 
 
 ' Oh, there were Curgenvens of Curgenven before the 
 Conquest ! ' 
 
 ' I must read up the Conquest. No doubt they were most 
 important people, and there is lots about them in history.'
 
 ALICE. 125 
 
 ' There were Curgenvens before the Heptarchy,' said Alice ; 
 'there must have been — -the name is British.' 
 
 ' I'll grind away at the Heptarchy,' said Justinian. 
 
 ' I really don't know when there were not Curgenvens,' said 
 Alice. 
 
 1 1 say, lend us your Universal History. I'll have a good 
 sweat at it, and then I shall know exactly where all the Cur- 
 genvens come.' 
 
 Thus, unconsciously, the two minds acted on each other, each 
 opening the other to new interests. Alice exerted a softening 
 and refining influence on Justinian, whose home was without 
 a woman in it ; and to Alice association with her cousin saved 
 her mind from the paralyzing effect of her mother's unremittent 
 drill. 
 
 Since Ins arrival along with his father at the Manor-House 
 Justinian had seen little of his cousin. He had been too much 
 engaged in exploring the house and the stables and gardens to 
 give her a thought. Mrs. Curgenven had not been to the house, 
 and he had not been to the rectory. 
 
 At last, believing he had run through the gamut of the 
 novelties, and becoming weary of having nothing to do, with his 
 hands in his pockets Justinian sauntered to the stables — that 
 place to which every idle boy gravitates instinctively. His 
 father was out — the coachman had driven him into Liskeard — 
 so that he knew he would not find him there, but he expected 
 to find the groom, with his coat off and braces relaxed and cast 
 down, sleeves turned up, currycombing a horse or washing a 
 carriage. 
 
 No one, however, was in the stable-yard, and Justinian 
 strolled into the stables, and there heard a gentle voice speak- 
 ing in terms of endearment to a grey pony in the loose-box. 
 Justinian knew the voice at once, and his heart gave a leap. 
 Alice was in the loose-box, coaxing her favourite riding cob, 
 Whinny, and the young fellow went to her at once. If the 
 truth must be told, his delight at hearing her sprang from 
 selfishness. He desired to have some one to talk to, and some 
 variety to the wearisome exploration of the contents of the 
 house. 
 
 He found Alice with her arms round the neck of the 
 grey, caressing the beast, with her cheek laid against the 
 head of Whinny, who was content to be fondled by her 
 mistress. 
 
 When Justinian entered the loose-box Alice looked up ; her 
 eyes were moist. She coloured slightly, tossed back her hair
 
 126 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 from her face, and said apologetically, ' I ventured here to say 
 good-bye to Whinny.' 
 
 ' Why say good-bye 1 ' 
 
 ' Because Whinny is no looger mine. She belongs to you 
 now — so mamma says.' 
 
 1 Oh, stuff ! She has always been yours, Alice. Of course 
 she remains yours.' 
 
 ' But you will want a cob.' 
 
 ' Not such a cob as that,' said the boy disdainfully. ' I want 
 a creature fourteen and a half hands high, and with more spirit 
 than the old grey.' 
 
 'Thank you, Justin, but I don't fancy we can afford to keep 
 her now.' 
 
 'Rubbish ! Of course you can. I will keep her here for you 
 if your mother makes any demur. She is always at your 
 service, she is yours, not mine ; and as for the bit of grass she 
 eats, and the oats — who thinks any odds of that 1 ' 
 
 1 You are a good, kind cousin,' said Alice, putting out her 
 hand to him over the back of the cob ; ' I shall always feel 
 thankful to you. I didn't want my darling pet to get into 
 bad hands. You will see to that. As to my keeping Whinny, 
 that must be as mamma and grandpapa think. You know 
 grandpapa has a mission woman and a Scripture reader, and so 
 can't also keep a pair. He says if he could do with one only 
 then he might have a second horse, but people might object, 
 and so he is obliged to do with one horse to hack at every- 
 thing. Perhaps,' considered Alice, ' if he could have a mission 
 child, a ministering angel, that wouldn't cost more than half, 
 then he might allow me to keep a pony. You see the Scripture 
 reader has to deliver tracts, and the cost of the tracts adds to 
 the expense.' 
 
 ' Come along, Alice,' said Justinian, ' let us go for a ride on 
 the moors. I'm so dull and stupid at the Manor, and papa is 
 away, gone to see old Physic, so I have no one to talk to, and 
 away from the Pill-box, nothing to do.' 
 
 'I shall be delighted. Mamma is about collecting pennies 
 from the old women for Anglo-Israel. She says that the sub- 
 scriptions have got behind since dear papa's death. She could 
 not attend to them for a quarter. But what are you going to 
 ride 1 ' 
 
 ' My horse has not come yet. Pike is going to get me a 
 beauty, one that will turn over a stone wall without blinking. 
 You ride and I will run by your side. I'll saddle Whinny for 
 you. Never mind the groom.'
 
 ALICE. 127 
 
 All Justinian's good spirits had returned ; he laughed and 
 chattered, as he walked beside Alice mounted on her cob. They 
 went out through the gates that led from the grounds and the 
 birch- woods upon the furzy moor. The land rose rapidly, con- 
 sequently there was no question of Alice putting her pony to 
 the trot and of Justinian running. At her side he kept looking 
 up into her bright face, and making her laugh with his odd 
 sallies. 
 
 The fresh air blowing over the moors fluttered Alice's hair 
 about her face, and made her cheeks glow and her eyes 
 sparkle. 
 
 ' 1 say, cousin,' said Justinian, ' this is jolly ; now I am at 
 the Manor, we shall go about together and see all that is to 
 be seen on the moors.' Then it flashed on him that he had 
 spoken unfeelingly, not considering her loss in the thought of 
 his gain. He became red and confused : ' You know what 1 
 mean, Alice, I'm not such a cad as to mean anything that may 
 give you pain. All I want to say is, that I'm awfully glad we 
 are near each other now instead of being as before, nine miles 
 apart.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure you never intended to say, never thought 
 even, anything but what was kind and courteous.' 
 
 ' I say, Alice, by George, who is that ? ' 
 
 They had reached a broad sweep of fairly level down, and 
 over this was galloping a girl on the back of a wild moorland 
 pony, without saddle or bridle, astride, directing her horse by 
 a halter, and with shouts. Her hat had fallen between her 
 shoulders and her red hair was Hying about her head. She was 
 directing her pony to leap the gorse bushes, and thread its way 
 at a canter among masses of dispersed granite. 
 
 ' That 1 ' said Alice. « Oh, Esther ! ' 
 
 It could be none other. 
 
 ' To be sure. I thought I had seen her before somewhere.'
 
 128 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 TOLMENNA. 
 
 No sooner did Esther Morideg catch sight of Justinian and 
 Alice Curgenven, than she turned the head of her horse, lashed 
 it with a bunch of furze she held in her left hand, and came 
 plunging toward them over all obstacles, at headlong speed, in 
 a manner impossible with any steed not reared on the rugged 
 granite moors. When she reached them she drew up. 
 
 ' What are you doing here 1 Why are you come to the 
 moor 1 ' she asked. 
 
 1 Esther,' answered Alice, ' may we not visit your kingdom 
 without a passport ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean.' 
 
 ' I am coming on your own invitation,' said Justinian, * to 
 see your house and make the acquaintance of your grand- 
 father.' 
 
 1 Our house you can see, as long as it is ours,' answered the 
 girl, leaping from the back of the horse, withdrawing the 
 halter, and with a cut of the furze bush dismissing the creature 
 from bondage, as an ancient Roman manumitted a slave. ' But 
 gran'fer, he's in prison and don't come out till the end o' the 
 week.' 
 
 ' In prison ! ' repeated Justinian. 
 
 1 Yes,' said the girl, striding along by the side of the boy. 
 1 And I reckon he'll go there ag'in afore long for sum'at better 
 nor last time.' 
 
 « What has he done ? ' 
 
 1 Oh ! ' said Esther, putting her hands behind her head, 
 twisting her red gold hair into a knot, then stooping and 
 rending sprigs of heather, and pinning up her locks with them. 
 ' Oh, it's all along o' Lawyer Physic. Gran'fer he knocked 'n 
 down, lie did.' 
 
 ' Why, what had Mr. Physic done ? ' 
 
 ' Done — iverything what he oughtn't to ha' done, sure.' 
 
 She turned and looked full in Justinian's face. 'I'd like to 
 have thickey fuzz-bush i' my hand, and beat old Physic wi' it, 
 I would, and for sure I wad'n spare him. I'd cut him over 
 the back and right across the face.' 
 
 ' But what is this all about ? ' 
 
 1 It's all about Tolmenna. About what else shu'd it be 1 '
 
 TOLMENNA. 129 
 
 I Is that your house ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, it be — sartain sure, if us can keep it. But Lawyer 
 Physic he sez, sez he, he's gone and bought the land, and is 
 a-going to hev a mine there. I know th' ou'd volks were 
 arter tin hereabout, ages agone. I know it — there be their 
 works, and the pixies' hammers you can hear now i' the adits, 
 and where you hear the pixies at work, there for sartain be a 
 lode.' 
 
 ' He has bought the land, do you say 1 ' 
 
 I I believe the matter stands thus,' said Alice. 'Mr. Physic 
 has purchased some of this moorland, and wants to get up a 
 company to work the tin on it. He has given Roger Morideg 
 notice to quit his cottage.' 
 
 ' And he's not going to quit,' said Esther, savagely stamp- 
 ing on the short turf. ' Gran'fer, his vayther, he built the 
 house, and gran'fer were a little boy at the time and helped 'n 
 to roll the stones and cut the faran (fern) for the thatch.' 
 
 ' Then you think the house belongs to you ? ' 
 
 ' For sure sartain. Gran'fer's vayther he built 'n. Don't 
 that mak' it his ? ' 
 
 ' Not unless the land were his on which he built it.' 
 
 ' Oh, the land ! ' said Esther impatiently ; ' gran'fer's paid 
 a shillin' every Lady (day) for that, an' he don't deny he'll go 
 on paying — he's never got hindermost i' his paying.' 
 
 ' Then, Esther,' said Justinian, ' I am sorry for you, but as 
 far as I can see you have no redress. However, I will speak 
 to my father about it — he has, of course, great influence with 
 Mr. Physic — and he will see whether he can prevail on him 
 not to press you to quit.' 
 
 ' Us won't quit. Us'll stick there like moss to the stoans.' 
 
 ' But what has that to do with your grandfather's being in 
 prison ] ' asked the boy. 
 
 1 Why, gran'fer knocked Lawyer Physic down, when he 
 came to say he'd turn 'n out, and hav' th' ou'd house down.' 
 
 ' He had no right to lay his hands on him.' 
 
 I He didn't, he knocked 'n down wi' a stone ; a stone I 
 reckon bean't so soft as is a hand.' 
 
 ' I am afraid this will create a prejudice against him.' 
 ' He'll knock 'n down wi' sum'at harder nor a stone if he 
 comes here again ; and if gran'fer don't, I will.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you what I will do,' said Alice, ' I'll get my grand- 
 father, the rector, to interfere.' 
 
 I I don't want he,' retorted Esther somewhat contemptu- 
 ously. ' I know very well what he'll do. He'll go and give 
 
 K
 
 130 MRS. CURGENVKN. 
 
 six very good reasons for Roger be in bis right, and then hell 
 ttum about and give half-a-dozen why lawyer Physic be all i' 
 his right ; and then he'll go away thinking he's a peacemaker 
 and the Messing on peacemakers be his — and he's left the 
 muddle jist where he found it, not a bit and crumb better. 
 But, there, I niver meant to say nothing to cross you, Miss 
 Alice, us be too good friends for that. Gran' mother sez as 
 some volks be good granite and some volks be elvan, and 
 some be tin.' 
 
 ' What is elvan V asked Justinian. 
 
 ' Elvan ! I thought every fool knowed that. Elvan be a 
 sort o' stone as is no good at all, goes to powder, but where 
 elvan be there be tin, for sure sartain. You can't do nothing 
 wi' elvan; 'tain't builder's stone, 'tain't metal, but it be be- 
 tween the two, and no good for naught but to say that where 
 it be, there be tin. I reckon Pass'n Pamphlet be elvan. If 
 you want to find this or that, you mun look o' one side o' him 
 or t'other.' 
 
 ' Well, never mind about my grandfather,' said Alice, some- 
 what annoyed, but also not a little amused, for children and 
 the ignorant take the measure of a man and discover his 
 weaknesses with marvellous acuteness ; ' what is to be done 
 with regard to Tolmenna ? ' 
 
 1 Knock Lawyer Physic on the head,' said Esther with con- 
 fidence, ' and do't better next time than did gran'fer wi' a 
 stone. I reckon,' she added with a laugh, ' he knocked 'n wi' 
 a bit o' elvan by mistake.' 
 
 ' You should not harbour such thoughts, Esther,' said Alice 
 gravely. 
 
 1 "Why not? He'd turn us out o' our house as gran'fer and 
 his ou'd vayther builded, and where I've a lived a' my life, 
 and I love every stone o' it — every stone as he'd tear down.' 
 Then defiantly, ' I don't care if I do it. Nobody never would 
 catch me and put me i' prison. I could run and hide. I 
 know these moors, and there's scores and scores o' places for 
 hiding. Why, looky' here.' 
 
 She pointed. They had reached a depression in the surface 
 of the moor between two eminences, there were heaps and 
 hollows in a line from the highest point to the bottom of the 
 valley. 'See! all tin's the ou'd volks ha' streamed for tin, 
 and they've made their adits and their levels, and it's a reg'lar 
 rabbit-burrow to them as knows it.' 
 
 The moor was furrowed as though it had at one time been 
 subject to the rush of furious torrents at the melting of masses
 
 TOLMENNA. 131 
 
 of snow. This was now all, or nearly all, clothed with scanty 
 turf and dense grey moss, and the stones were so belichened 
 as to assimilate with the moss in one tone of silvery grey. 
 
 • Look here,' said Esther. ' I know well what the old men 
 did. First they grubbed the elvan after tin as far as they 
 could down wi'out going underground. Do'y see now where 
 their works be 1 "Well, then they got a bit boulder, and they 
 sunk prospectin' pits. Thickey there be one.' She pointed 
 to a hollow like a pock-mark in the face of the moor, but 
 with a grass-covered heap thrown up on the lower side of it. 
 'They dug down there, till they hit a lode, and then they 
 went bouldly on after it for a way, and then they got feared 
 they was too long i' the dark, and up they worked to the light 
 again. Look ! There's one of the places they came up at. 
 There's most o' these here prospectin' holes be choked up wi' 
 rummage. But there be some as I knows as bean't. I can 
 go down 'n and run along underground — like a rabbit or a rat, 
 and nobody could niver find me — and come up just when I'd a 
 mind to.' 
 
 In another moment the house was reached. It was a low 
 one-storey erection of the rudest description ; great granite un- 
 shaped blocks piled one on another, bedded in clay and moss ; 
 no mortar had been used. The walls were thick — six feet, 
 rudely faced outward and inward, and filled in with rubble in 
 the middle. A brush of whitewash had been given to the 
 door-jambs, and to the window-frames. The roof was thatched 
 with ferns only, or ferns and turf together, and was nearly as 
 thick as the walls ; it was supported on massive oak rafters. 
 A high wall or hedge of stones enclosed a space before the 
 cottage, cutting off all prospect and excluding much sun ; but 
 such walls were erected to screen the fronts of houses from 
 wind and rain, as well as to protect them from invasion by the 
 half-wild horses and cattle that roamed the moors, and which, 
 in stormy weather, or out of wanton curiosity, unless kept at 
 a distance, would drive their heads through windows, and 
 thrust themselves wholly in at doors. 
 
 The cottage interior was gloomy ; the entrance was not 
 immediately into the sitting-room, but into a sort of stable 
 occupied by poultry, a cow, a rude cart, and a number of old 
 barrels and more or less fragmentary articles of husbandry. 
 A side door by a granite step admitted to the kitchen-chamber. 
 In this room there was a ceiling of boards, and below the 
 boards the entire surface was ribbed with rods, extending the 
 width of the apartment, fastened to the rafters, and this rack
 
 132 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 that occupied the superficies constituted the wardrobe, store- 
 closet, and treasury of the household. Guns, tools, garments, 
 boots, shoes, groceries, were immediately overhead, reached 
 readily by the hand, as the room was but six feet high. No 
 drier or moi'e accessible spot could have been desired, and 
 such contrivances were general on the moors till of late years. 
 In the moist atmosphere goods thus held aloft overhead were 
 kept from moth and mildew, and became impregnated with 
 peat smoke, that gave them a peculiar colour an 1 savour. 
 
 On entering the room, which was unoccupied, Justinian and 
 Alice could at first discern little after having been out in tho 
 full glare of day. But by degrees their eyes became accus- 
 tomed to the dusk, and then Justinian exclaimed, as he 
 pointed to a line hanging by the great fire-place, into which 
 feathers were knotted, ' Why, what in the name of wonder is 
 this 1 ' 
 
 Esther went up to the line. It was composed of black wool, 
 white and brown thread entwined, and at every two or three 
 inches was looped about a bunch of cock's or pheasant's or 
 moorhen's feathers, set alternately. The line had been fast- 
 ened to the rail overhead, and a low stool was at the hearth- 
 stone below it ; the plaiter of the chain was away, and the 
 web was incomplete. Esther laughed. 
 
 'This be a witch-ladder,' she said. * Gran' mother be a 
 making on't. Her don't hold wi' granger's ways, knocking 
 volk about the head wi' a stone. Her say, " Leave it to me, 
 and I'll finish 'em my way." I reckon thickey witch-ladder 
 be a-made for Lawyer Physic' 
 
 1 And what will Lawyer Physic do with it when he gets 
 it ? ' asked the boy. 
 
 1 He'll never get it, but it'll get him,' answered Esther. 
 ' Do'y mean to tell me you don't know what a witch-ladder 
 be ? Lor'-a-mussy — what be the good o' schules when it leaves 
 scholards so tottle ignorant 1 ? I'll telly what it be. Her hev' 
 wove and knotted into thickey ladder every ill her can men- 
 tion. There be every kind o' pains and aches in they knots 
 and they feathers ; and when gran'mother hev' done the ladder 
 her'll tie a stone to the end and sink it i' Dosmare Pool, and 
 ivery ill wish ull find a way, one after the other, to the j'ints 
 and bones, and head and limbs, o' Lawyer Physic. See if 
 they don't.' 
 
 'Oh, Esther !' exclaimed Alice, shocked at what she heard. 
 ' This is as wicked as it is to strike Mr. Physic with a stone.' 
 
 ' Why is it?' asked the girl defiantly. 'He's got his money
 
 TOLMENNA. 133 
 
 and his law, and the perlice to do for him what he likes, and 
 what hev' we poor folks got 1 I reckon us must help our- 
 selves as best us can, if not wi' moor-stones, then wi' ill wishes 
 tied into witch-ladders.' 
 
 ' It is ridiculous,' said Justinian. ' I shouldn't mind any 
 number of witch-ladders being woven for me, but I would be 
 spared the cobble-stones.' 
 
 'You shall have neither on 'em, never,' exclaimed Esther ; 
 ' never naught but iiood wishes and kind will — there, I swear 
 that, my young squire.' She laid hold of him with both her 
 hands and shook him in a friendly mood. 
 
 ' But really, Esther,' persisted the young fellow, ' I cannot 
 understand any human being who pretends to have reason 
 believing in such rubbish.' 
 
 ' You say that — you ! ' exclaimed the girl, again shaking 
 him, but in a less friendly manner. ' What 'ud you be if 
 gran' mother hadn't a-turned her apron 1 ' 
 
 Justinian liberated himself, and burst into laughter. 
 
 ' Aye ! ' said Esther, somewhat angrily, ' you may laugh, but 
 it be true as daylight. Gran'mother were angered wi' Mrs. 
 Curgenven, and her shooked off her good luck from her and 
 turned all her luck backsyforemost. And from that hour 
 everything hev' gone again' her. The lady be cast out of the 
 house, has lost her husband, and you and your father be in her 
 place. My gran'mother did that. Ask Mrs. Curgenven — 
 ask Miss Alice if it weren't so.' Then, conscious that she 
 had struck on a painful subject, she added, ' See what an ill 
 thing it be, when the good luck be turned off one it be turned 
 off from others as well. Gran'mother niver meant no harm 
 by you, Miss Alice, niver ; but when her tooked the good 
 days away from your mother, her couldn't do other but take 
 the sunlight away from you too ; but I'll make all well to once 
 if I can.' 
 
 Justinian was conscious that the change in the fortunes of 
 Alice and her mother was an unpleasant topic — must be dis- 
 tressing for his cousin to hear commented on, and he endeav- 
 oured to divert the thoughts of Esther once more to the ladder. 
 
 ' Now, Esther, can you, as a rational being, look me in the 
 face, and say that you believe in such stuff as this lot of twist 
 and feathers doing any one harm 1 ' 
 
 ' Aye, I can,' replied the girl with assurance, and she fixed 
 her large brown lustrous eyes on his. ' It's in reason. Don't 
 gran'mother knot an ill wish into every loop her make wi' the 
 veathers? And don't the threefold cord hold 'em together?
 
 134 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 And where else be they if they hain't there? Then when the 
 ladder be down i' Dosmare Pool, as the water unlooses afld 
 rots the ties, up comes the wishes, one after the other, and 
 away they goes right on end to Lawyer Physic. I've a-zeed 
 un comin' up scores o' times. You can zee 'em yourself. Go 
 to Dosmare Pool and look into the water, and you'll zee 
 there'll come up a soort o' bubble, and when her gets to the 
 top her's gone — them is the ill wishes other volks ha' tied in 
 the witch-ladders they've let down there. And when gran'- 
 mother ha' done her'n and let'n down, you'll see her wishes, as 
 the knots loose, come up just the same way.' 
 
 Justinian was provoked at the ignorance and superstition of 
 the girl, but he let her speak on that she might not recur to 
 the former topic. However, she went back to it nevertheless, 
 for she said, ' But that's naught to do wi' the ill luck gran'- 
 mother sent to Mrs. Curgenven, and that has come on her 
 heavier nor ever grau'mother minded it should. But as it 
 canna be ondone what ha' happ'd, see if I canna make better 
 for what is to come. Do'y know why this house be called 
 Tolmenna? — no, I reckon not; but I've heard grau'l'er .-ay 
 that in the old Cornish tongue it mean'd the Great Stone wi' 
 a hole through 'n, and sure enough there her be in the linuey. 
 You go round,' she said to Justinian, ' by the outzide till tha 
 come to the great stone set up on end in the wall. You'll zee 
 the hole sure enough, but her's stopped wi' a whisp o' hay. 
 I'll pull 'n out.' 
 
 Justinian left the house as directed. 
 
 The stone in question was easily found ; it stood up, a slab 
 of granite some nine feet high and eight or nine wide, and in 
 it, about three feet above the soil, a circular hole had been 
 artificially but rudely cut through it. 
 
 Esther had brought Alice into the outbuilding that served 
 as ante-chamber to the house proper, and going to the back 
 drew away a wad of hay, and the light and air poured in 
 through the orifice. 
 
 'Now,' said the girl to Justinian, who stood without, 
 ' thrust in your hand.' 
 
 He put his arm through, as commanded. 
 
 'And you, Miss Alice, take the young Bquire's hand.' 
 
 Alice, much amused, and to humour the wild girl, did as she 
 was bidden. 
 
 Then Esther, tearing open her collar, drew from her neck a 
 coral chain over her head, and -lie wound it about their united 
 hands.
 
 A REBELLION. 135 
 
 ' I've heard gran 'mother say,' she said, standing by their 
 bound hands, ' as in the ou'd ancient time the volk used to do 
 this and was married thereby fast as heaven and airth cu'd 
 make 'em. And I've made you double last, I have, wi' my 
 pixy chain. You're one afore heaven above and airth beneath, 
 and a' the pixies as well, so I've mended what was amiss, and 
 you'll get back again to Curgenven, and get the young squire 
 too.' 
 
 Then suddenly, moved by a new impulse, she withdrew the 
 chain and ran away — ran from the cottage, fled among the 
 rocks, threw herself down in a hidden nook, and tossed from 
 side to side in a storm of tears. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A REBELLION. 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven sat in the study. A good many 
 houses have rooms so designated, though never used for that 
 concentration of thought which is implied by the name. Cap- 
 tain Lambert had preferred his smoking-room in the bungalow 
 as a quiet retreat to which he could retire, and where he could 
 lounge and enjoy his cigar, and let his thoughts drift to and 
 fro as sea-weed in chopping waves in a vortex of currents. 
 All business he had thrown off himself upon the shoulders of 
 agent and wife. Now Mr. Percival had discovered that much 
 came upon him, the consideration of which he was not in a 
 position to devolve on others. And chief of this was that 
 day-and-night-mare of all housekeepers, the servants. 
 
 Percival had thought that he was freed from solicitude on 
 this head when he constituted his faithful old factotum at the 
 Pill-box, Bathsheba Trefry, housekeeper in Curgenven. She 
 was severely conscientious, grim, but good-natured towards 
 children and animals. In the Pill-box she had not been 
 brought into relation with other servants, as the only assist- 
 ant kept there was a temporary charwoman. She had acted 
 as Percival's housekeeper, cook, parlour- and chamber-maid at 
 Liskeard, and must accordingly know the several duties apter-
 
 136 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 taining to these separate offices. None could therefore bo better 
 calculated to superintend the several servants who would 
 relieve her of these duties. She was a strict woman, and 
 would be able to keep the younger servants in order. But 
 the domestics whom Pcrcival found in the house, and whom 
 lie, ignorant and inexperienced in such matters, had engaged 
 to remain on, rose in revolt. Mrs. Bounce, the cook, Mr. 
 Tombs, the butler, Charles, the fair and feeble footman, Mary 
 .Jane, the upper housemaid, and Rose-Anne, the under-house- 
 maid, and Thomas, the boot-and-shoe hoy, were indignant 
 and resolved not to endure this elevation over their heads of 
 ' an old frump,' and the cook told Mrs. Trefry as much in 
 forcible terms, not sparing her the frumpish designation. 
 Bathsheba appealed to her master, and Mr. Percival, in san- 
 guine spirit, sent for the cook into his study, believing that a 
 word from him would oil and allay the troubled waters. But 
 he was doomed to discover that such domestic storms are not 
 to be appeased by a drop of good advice ; that the interference 
 of the master works the storm into a hurricane. 
 
 Mrs. Bounce, who appeared red in the face and puffing, had 
 assumed an air of defiance before she entered the study, and 
 had fortified her resolution to brave the master by that 
 means to which cooks are supposed not infrequently to have 
 recourse. 
 
 She listened with lack-lustre eye and pursed-up lips to what 
 Mr. Percival had to say, and then, suddenly, the torrent of 
 her words poured forth. She commented on the ridiculous 
 figure Mrs. Trefry cut with her anticjuated dress, on her 
 manner of doing up her hair, on her sniffing, on the tone of 
 her voice and the texture of her skin, on the baseness of her 
 character in having served for twelve pounds — in an incau- 
 tious moment Bathsheba had let out this damning fact — on 
 the gross and unpardonable insult offered to herself, a lady 
 who condescended for forty pounds to see that the kitchen- 
 maid did all her dirty work, in having pitchforked above her 
 a person, a creature, who had served as maid-of-all-work on 
 twelve pounds. Mrs. Bounce would tell Mr. Curgenven what 
 she thought of Mrs. Trefry, how she was disposed to designate 
 her — she was an old frump, and when that was said she had 
 said all. Nevertheless Mrs. Bounce did not show that she 
 had said all when she had employed that expletive. That 
 woman had 'the imperence to give herself hairs over her, a 
 woman as knowed nothing of what a gentleman's cook ought 
 to be.'
 
 A REBELLION. 137 
 
 Mr. Curgenven had sprung up, unable to endure further the 
 rush of the cook's words ; he caught her by the shoulders, 
 spun her round, and thrust her through the study door. Mrs. 
 Bounce was not silenced by this means ; she raised her voice 
 to a higher pitch, she shouted in the hall, on the stairs : ' As 
 how she had been accustomed to be in gentlemen's establish- 
 ments, and she wouldn't demean herself by staying another 
 hour in an 'ouse where there was a master as didn't know 
 how to be'ave himself to ladies, who was bringing in all the 
 rag and bobtail acquaintance of his beggar days to fill the 
 place of respectable servants. She knowed, she did, 'ow as 
 Mr. Percival 'ad 'eld his 'at for the twopeuces the captain 'ad 
 chucked to him. She knowed as he 'ad 'ad nothing to live 
 on but what the captain 'ad given 'im. She snapped her 
 fingers in his face, and when she'd got 'er wages, she'd go off 
 direct, and never trouble 'im for a chai'-acter,' and so on and 
 so on. 
 
 Mr. Curgenven rang the bell. 
 
 The butler entered. 
 
 ' Send for the policeman to remove that woman,' said 
 Percival, fuming with rage. 
 
 Instead of replying, the butler shut the door behind him, 
 assumed an unbutlerian expression of face, and said, ' I beg 
 your pardon, sir, but I want to know if I shall forfeit a month's 
 wages if I go at once, or whether I shall be forced to remain 
 my four weeks, which 'ud be unpleasant to all parties. I'd 
 rayther go, sir, with my wage in my pocket than stay and 
 break the decanter, and run my helbow through the plate-glass 
 window, and let the barrel of ale run to waste, all of which 
 might happen if I was forced to remain for my wage till this 
 day month. At the same time, sir, I'm open to ? n arrangement. 
 I don't mind, to oblige you, sir, staying on till I find another 
 place as will suit me, if you'll be good enough to send that old 
 woman, Mrs. Trefry, about her business.' 
 
 ' Most certainly not. Go and be hanged ! You've given 
 me notice — pack at once.' 
 
 ' My wages, sir — I'm content to stay if ' 
 
 ' Get out of my sight ! ' 
 
 The butler darted back as Mr. Curgenven caught up a square 
 ruler and, whisking it over his head, made as though he would 
 throw it at him. He slammed the library door after him as a 
 declaration of hostilities, much as a man-of-war discharges a 
 gun across the bows of a vessel that belongs to a rival power 
 to bid her stand and engage. Then in burst, without knock-
 
 138 Mi;s CURGENVEN. 
 
 ing, the apper and under housemaids, their bosoms heaving, 
 and both sneaking together. 
 
 'They wanted to know whether Mr. Curgenven had ordered 
 that they was to sleep together 1 They'll always been accus- 
 tomed to have separato rooms and beds, as was the way in all 
 <j< a! lemen 's houses, but Mrs. Trefry had gone and said as how 
 that she didn't see why there should be such a lot of servants' 
 rooms occupied, and that they was to have one room between 
 'em. 'T wasn't as how Jane had any fault to find with Kn.se- Anne, 
 nor had Kose-Anne any fault to find wit h Mary Jane, but a prin- 
 ciple was involved. Whore* was it all to end f Would Mr. 
 Curgenven come and look at the room, and measure it, and see if 
 there were accommodation enough for them two ? And what 
 did Mrs. Trefry mean by giving them a bit of yellow soap, when 
 they had always been accustomed to Almond Cream? Would 
 Mr. Curgenven try the soap himself aud see if it were fitting 
 for their skins'? Had Mr. Curgenven authorized Mrs. Trefry 
 to bid them mend the muslin blind at the window that was 
 tore ? And if so, which was to do it ? It wasn't Jane's 
 place, and it wasn't Hose's place. And if one of them must 
 do it, would he find them the cotton and needle, and a thimble 1 
 and not object if his room were not tidied for twenty-four 
 hours, nor his bed made ! They couldn't do everything. If 
 they was to do his room, how could they run the tear in the 
 muslin blind ? And if they was forced like slaves to mend the 
 blind, how was his room to be done 1 They would like to 
 know ' 
 
 Mr. Curgenven put his hands to his ears and ran round 
 his library table, till the maids unable to obtain satisfaction 
 retired in wrath and disgust. Then Percival threw himself 
 down in his arm-chair, and dropping his hands by his side, 
 said, ' I wish I were back in the Pill-box.' 
 
 He was not left quiet many minutes before Bathsheba burst 
 in, in livid rage, dragging in the boot-and-knife boy by tho 
 arm. 
 
 ' Master ! ' gasped she, ' look at this idle toad ! There's 
 the pore pigs ha' been and never had no meat theso three days 
 — and they're a-squallin' their very lungs away. I told him 
 he was to take the kitchen waste to the sty, instead of Keziah 
 — everything is put on that girl — he does naught but loaf 
 about, and he said he wouldn't. He didn't say it outright to 
 me, or I'd ha' boxed his donkey ears ; but he said it to Keziah, 
 and I stopped her as she was trundling a barrow full o' potato 
 parings and throwed away apples, and crusts of bread, and
 
 A REBELLION. 139 
 
 remains o' tarts and puddings, and soups as have turned sour, 
 and lots of butter and cream, and jam and cake, and pickles 
 and fat meat, and what not — all for the pigs. I said she wasn't 
 to take it, and a sin and a shame it is that so much should go 
 to the pigs, and I said that this idle young toad was to feed the 
 pigs, and he hasn't done it ; and they've been starving these 
 three days — all because of him ; and there's like to be a 
 summons took out against you, sir, for cruelty to animals — all 
 because of this lazy Tom.' 
 
 ' I don't care,' said the sullen boy. ' 'Tain't my place. I've 
 passed the fourth standard. 'Tain't decent as I should mind 
 pigs ' 
 
 ' And then, master ! ' pursued the irate housekeepei-, ' the 
 pigs' trough is chock-full of dirt of all kinds — broken best 
 service dishes (I saw a well-dish cracked and throwed there) — 
 and I picked a silver teaspoon with the crest on it out of the 
 muck, and there's cinders and pigs' bedding and all kinds o' dirt 
 in their trough. And that's not been cleaned out for months, 
 and the sty be over knee-deep in filth, no bedding of clean 
 straw for the pore beasts. I told this jackanapes he was to 
 clean 'em out, and he says it's no business of his.' 
 
 ' I don't care,' said the sulky boy, ' 'tain't for fourth standards 
 to soil their hands wi' pigs.' 
 
 ' If you can't do your work you shall go,' said Mr. Cur- 
 genven. 
 
 'I don't care,' retorted the lad; 'vayther said I wasn't to 
 stay if I didn't like the place. I can get a clerkship in the 
 Bank o' England I reckon. I've gone through the fourth 
 standard.' 
 
 1 Yes — let him go, master,' said the old woman ; ' he's no 
 good — none of them are good but Keziah. She does all the 
 work of the house, and gets least wage.' 
 
 ' Dou^e her wage at once,' said Mr. Curgenven, and threw 
 himself back in the chair. 
 
 Mrs. Trefry sent the boy from the room, and then shut the 
 door behind her. 
 
 ' Master/ said she, 'I think I'm bound to tell you that you 
 may know what to do. I've heard a thing or two, and you'd 
 best inquire into it. The head gardener here, I've been in- 
 formed, don't do right by his master. Captain Curgenven 
 had a dead horse put to the roots o' the vines, and he dug him 
 up and sold the bones to the old chap as goes round buying 
 rags and bones. So he robbed the vines, and as he disturbed 
 their roots, there have been no grapes this autumn. Then he
 
 140 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 has sold the tomatoes, and the melons, and the cucumbers, and 
 the pineapples, and the cherries and plums - and the vegetables, 
 every week he sends in a couplo o' hampers of fruit and greens 
 to the market at Liskeard and pockets the money. The captain 
 knew nothing about it. And I'm informed, after a little hail- 
 storm, he went and broke half the panes o' glass in the con- 
 servatory and sent for the plumber and glazier from Liske id, 
 who tipped him half-a-crown for his trouble ; and he's always 
 running short of garden tools so as to have to order more from 
 tin- ironmonger, who gives him a Christmas-box for his obliging 
 ness ; and half the seels and roots ordered don't come up, for 
 why — he gets an acknowledgment from the seedsman to let 
 him pass on to him the old seeds as be no good — and get the 
 master to pay for 'em as new and sound.' 
 
 ' He shall have the sack at once,' said Mr. Curgenven, and 
 he jumped out of the low window upon the gravel drive and 
 strode away in quest of the gardener. 
 
 Mr. Quash, the gardener, received his dismissal with haughty 
 indignation. 
 
 1 I know what it means,' said he. ' Some one has been tell- 
 ing lies ; and who that is I don't pretend not to know, and it's 
 just as well you should be informed, sir. It's the keeper 
 Jarvis, it is, and I'll just tell you the why, sir. Mr. Jarvis be 
 uncommon put out, he be, because I've denied him apricots 
 this autumn, for as how there was not enough for the house. 
 Grapes I could not let him have ; there was a misfortune to 
 the vines. And he's expected to be supplied with potatoes to 
 save him the trouble of growing them himself. We ran short 
 of them too, and so I couldn't furnish him ; and he has took it 
 in dudgeon, and has made up a parcel of lies about me. But I 
 can tell tales too. You may ask for yourself where all the 
 pheasants and the partridges go. You may go up to the mail- 
 cart at seven-forty in the evening and ask what be the meaning 
 of a basket as is directed to the dealer in game at Liskeard, as 
 is often put into the mail-cart just as it starts; and, sir, you 
 may inquire why the gaurd of the coach, when he gets off at 
 Trevisa Hill to hook up the shoe, picks up sum'at from behind 
 a hedge just by the gate and chucks il into the hoot. If that 
 hean't pheasants for the Plymouth market I'm mistaken 
 greatly. 1 
 
 Mr. Curgenven walked back from the gardens. 'I shall 
 have to dismiss the keeper also,' said he. Then he saw the 
 footman coming to him without any hat or cap on his fair 
 head.
 
 A REBELLION. 141 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' said the young man, blushing to the 
 roots of his tow-coloured hair, ' but I am awful sorry to say I 
 must give notice.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Percival ; ' what for, pray 1 ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I'm awful grieved, but you see, sir, I've been 
 comfortable here, and would awfully like to stay, but I can't. 
 You see, sir, unbeknown to the late missus, cook and I was 
 married.' 
 
 ' Why, bless me ! she's old enough to be your mother.' 
 
 ' No, sir 1 not quite. She's only fourteen years older than 
 me. And you see, sir, she'd be in an awful way if I wasn't 
 to go as well as she. I'm very sorry, very, sir, to seem to 
 disoblige you and put you to any inconvenience.' 
 
 ' Very well, Charles, you must go, I suppose. Will you tell 
 the groom to put the roan in the dog-cart ; I am going out.' 
 
 ' Please, sir I I'm awful sorry, but I believe the cook have 
 ordered the roan and dog-cart, and got the groom to drive her 
 into Liskeard.' 
 
 ' In leed ! — that's cool.' 
 
 ' To take out a summons against you, sir, for personal 
 violence. She says you bruised her and dashed her against 
 the door-post, and that you used to her horrible, abusive, and 
 scandalous language. I'm awful sorry, sir. I tried to 
 dissuade her, but she would. And when she's determined 
 on a thing, sir, I know there's no turning her. But I hope, 
 sir, you won't think the worse of me, sir, and — Oh ! I 
 forgot, sir. I saw the rector and Mrs. Curgenven coming this 
 way, I think to call on you, sir. I'm awful sorry I forgot to 
 say so before.'
 
 142 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIH. 
 
 WANTED : AN ADDRESS. 
 
 When Percival Curgenven reached the house he found that 
 the rector and his daughter were already within. For the 
 first time in her life Mrs. Curgenven had been obliged to ring 
 at the front door of Curgenven House, and wait to bo 
 admit ted. She could not now enter with the firm foot of 
 consciousness that she was mistress de facto as well as de jure. 
 That she was by right still squiress she did not for one 
 instant doubt. But she had yielded her claims in deference 
 to the opinion of her father. She entered with erect head, if 
 not with assured foot ; and, being within, looked round with 
 quick turns of the head and inquiring eyes to note any alter- 
 ations that had been made on which she might animadvert. 
 
 'Why, goodness, Percival,' said she, stepping towards the 
 new squire as he entered, with sometliing of the manner of a 
 hostess receiving a guest, ' what is the meaning of this 1 I 
 had to ring and ring, and got no answer till I pulled the bell 
 the third time, and then Keziah answered the door. This will 
 never do. You are certain to have visitors — a stream of them 
 —in the afternoon, and the door must be properly attended 
 to. What are all the rest doing 1 Where is Charles 1 ' 
 
 ' Charles came to me into the garden to give notice.' 
 
 ' Well, but there are other servants.' 
 
 ' They have all given me notice — except such as I have 
 offered the sack to. And cook has borrowed the groom and 
 dog-cart and the roan to drive into the town to take out a 
 summons against me for attempted assassination.' 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' exclaimed the rector, looking back at the 
 door over his shoulder. 
 
 ' To have a medical certificate that she is bruised, and her 
 shoulder dislocated. I shall have the police here shortly with 
 a summons against me for that, and another for starving my 
 pigs because the boy has neglected them.' 
 
 ' This is dreadful ! ' gasped the rector ; 'it will make such a 
 scandal. It will be in every paper, in every mouth.' 
 
 'I don't care,' said Percival, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 'But you must care, my dear sir,' said Mr. Pamphlet, with 
 solemnity. 'Think what it is to be talked about, and written 
 about- cruelty to animals— brutality to servants— females,
 
 WANTED: AN ADDRESS. 143 
 
 too. I wouldn't have had this happen for worlds — and in <my 
 parish, and you bearing the same name as my daughter.' 
 
 ' I don't care the snap of my fingers what folks say or write. 
 What is their opinion to me ! ' 
 
 'My dear Mr. Percival,' remonstrated the rector, 'it is all 
 very well to say this when you are a nobody. Excuse me, 
 but when you were in the Pill-box, it did not matter. But 
 now that you occupy a position as squire, are like to be put 
 on the Commission, it is quite another thing. Did you never 
 hear or read of Domitian and Caligula, how that they existed 
 in daily, hourly terror of their servants, their friends, their 
 wives, their subjects ; they suspected poison in every draught 
 and a knife up every sleeve. They endeavoured to maintain 
 themselves by instituting a reign of terror ; other princes 
 cajoled, bribed, to save themselves. We — every one of us 
 who is above the level of insignificance has to maintain 
 himself as best he can against all his surroundings, he is at 
 their mercy. They have not dagger or hemlock, but they 
 have pointed tongues and slander. If they cannot take our 
 life, they can destroy our reputation and make life intolerable. 
 Don't you suppose that, now that you are squire of Curgenven, 
 your life is to be as independent as it was in the Pill-box. 
 You will have to live behin 1 mosquito curtains, wear them 
 about you all day, and lie behind them all night.' 
 
 ' Confound it,' said Percival, ' you are all in league to make 
 me regret my elevation.' 
 
 4 It will have its advantages to you, of course, but the 
 counterbalancing evils will outweigh all the satisfaction it 
 may bring. If any man puts his head abov n ground, it is 
 popped at by a hundred rifles.' 
 
 ' Here are the Tregonticks ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Curgenven, as 
 a carriage with livery servants on the box, and a bloom of 
 ladies within, passed the window. • That really is too much — 
 Lady Tregontick bringing all her daughters here on a 
 Brautschau, as the Germans call it. Percival, say " Not at 
 home ! ' " 
 
 ' I have no one to take the message,' said Mr. Curgenven, 
 ' unless the kitchen-maid will go. I fancy Charles has walked 
 off to lament over his departure with the under-gardener.' 
 
 Next moment, however, the door was opened by the 
 footman, and Lady Tregontick and the Misses Tregontick 
 were announced. The lady was round, rosy, sparkling. She 
 went up to Mr. Percival with gush, and to Mrs. Curgenven 
 aiso with effusion.
 
 144 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' How do you do, Mr. Curgenven? I really must apologize. 
 It is odd I know, but Sir Sampson is so shy. You will not 
 mind my leaving his card. I have to do all calls for him. 
 Oh, Mrs. Curgenven, this is delightful I The fact is my girls 
 and 1 were coming on to call on you — that is why they are 
 here. Philippa is dying to see your Alice — Alice is such a pet 
 of hers.' Then to Percival : 'I took the liberty of invading 
 you with my daughters because — you see we come from such a 
 distance, and Irene's back is not strong, and I thought she 
 would be over-tired in the carriage. Bless me ! did I introduce 
 you 1 — my eldest, Gweniver ; my second, Irene ; the baby — 
 that's Philippa. We call her baby because she was the last, 
 but, as you see, she is a big girl, and is out. You'll excuse Sir 
 Sampson. I know you will. I calculate on Curgenven good- 
 nature. It is proverbial. Sir Sampson is the shyest man in 
 creation. His shyness has become a disease. He never goes 
 out. "When any one calls, if he is in the garden he hides 
 behind a rhododendron bush. You may see his feet below 
 and his hat above it — like an ostrich, if he can bury his head 
 he thinks no one can see him. But there — you are so good- 
 natured. I see it in your eye ; and you'll forgive us never 
 calling when you were in Liskeard ; the fact is — how long 
 were you there 1 ' 
 
 ' Twelve years.' 
 
 ' And we did not know of it for three years. In the 
 country it is so long before one hears of a stranger settling in 
 one's midst, and then after that it has been a daily battle with 
 me to ovei'come Sir Sampson. Poor fellow, he has promised, 
 and I built on his promises, but they always failed. So time 
 slipped away and we never called — or rather he never did. 
 Then to-day I said to him, " Sampson, if you will not, I must. 
 I will not endure the opprobrium of being regarded as un- 
 neighbourly and unkind." We were coming — my girls and I 
 — to the rectory, and I thought just to leave Sir Sampson's 
 card, put my hands together and say, " Please forgive I and 
 allow me to call instead of Sir Sampson." ' 
 
 1 Shall I ring for tea 1 ' asked Jane Curgenven. 
 
 ' Oh, certainly,' answered Percival. 'But I don't suppose 
 there is any kettle on — and the firo in the kitchen will be out, 
 as the cook has departed to take out a summons against me, 
 and has borrowed for the purpose ' 
 
 ' Never mind, never mind that,' said Mrs. Curgenven hastily. 
 ' We don't draw all our domestic worries before the public' 
 
 Tea was ordered and was a very long time in coming.
 
 WANTED: AN ADDRESS. 145 
 
 When it did arrive the water was not only not boiling but 
 was smoked. There was, moreover, no sugar. 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven rang. 
 
 The footman returned, and she asked for the sugar-basin. 
 Charles hesitated, became red to the roots of his fair hair, and 
 when the lady repeated her order, he replied in a low voice — 
 
 'Please, ma'am, it is run out.' 
 
 ' Run out? What do you mean? ' 
 
 ' The boy have filled his mouth and pockets, and gone — and 
 I can't find the housekeeper with the key of the store-room to 
 get more out. Shall I bring in some brown, ma'am ? There 
 are a few spoonfuls in a bowl in the kitchen.' 
 
 Whilst this conversation was maintained in an undertone, 
 at a sign from Mrs. Curgenven, which he perfectly understood, 
 Mr. Pamphlet raised his voice and talked sufficiently loudly to 
 divert the attention of the visitors. Happily none of the 
 ladies took their tea sweetened. Whilst they were engaged 
 in conversation Jane was in a condition of irritation. She had 
 found smears as from greasy fingers on one of the cups and a 
 high-milk mark of dirt within the cream-jug. She would take 
 no tea herself, and the smoked insipid decoction was clearly not 
 relished by the visitors. She, however, took a piece of thin 
 bread-and-butter, but after a bite put it hastily down again. 
 The bread had been cut with an oniony knife. 
 
 Presently the Tregonticks left, having first begged Mrs. 
 Curgenven to accept their call as made upon her at the rectory. 
 As Lady Tregontick said, she really had come to make that 
 visit, and it was with that intention her girls had accompanied 
 her. Now Mrs. Curgenven was not at home she could not go 
 to the parsonage, and Mrs. Curgenven must accept the will 
 for the deed, and Mr. Pamphlet accept a card she would leave 
 with him from Sir Sampson, who was really too tiresome ; he 
 had given way to his shyness till it had grown on him, and 
 become quite an affliction. 
 
 No sooner were the Tregonticks gone than Mrs. Curgenven 
 turned on Percival with an exclamation of ' Really ! you must 
 get married. This never will do. Old Mrs. Trefry is not up 
 to the mark. She has gone off with the key — no sugar. The 
 cups and the cream-jug are simplv disgusting. The character 
 of the house is likely to suffer. You must either get married 
 or get a proper housekeeper, only — don't take one of the 
 Tregonticks : I don't mean as housekeeper, you understand. 
 That woman came here to throw her daughters at your head 
 — it is all fudge about her bringing them to see Alice, and her 
 
 L
 
 116 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 coming here to call on me, and it is .ill fudge about Sir Samp- 
 sou's shyness, too. It is laziness, nothing else. Just look 
 here, Percival — no, not at the outside of the cream-jug, but 
 at the inside. Do you not observe the line round the interior? 
 The jug has been put aside with the cream in it, to catch the 
 dust and curdle ; then — all in a scramble, to-day when wanted, 
 some one turns out the nasty mess, and hastily puts in fresh 
 cream. It is too revolting. This must not go on. What are 
 you going to do about servants ? Advertise ? go to a registry 
 office ! Goodness me ! and this is the time of all others when 
 you most want servants — when the whole neighbourhood will 
 make calls and have its eyes open to see what sort of an 
 establishment you keep up — and talk about it afterwards for 
 three months.' 
 
 Suddenly up jumped Mr. Percival Curgenven, shook him- 
 self as though to shake away the worries that were accumulat- 
 ing on him, and said — ' By George ! I shall be off ! ' 
 
 1 Where to ? ' 
 
 ' Why, to Scotland. I can't stand and face all these callers, 
 and I must have a bit of a change after these confounded 
 
 worries — and see about — that is to say ' he hesitated. ' I 
 
 say, Jane, can I do anything for you at Drumduskie ? can I 
 take a message to Mrs. Boxholder or the girls ? ' 
 
 1 You are going there ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Curgenven, with a 
 flush in her cheeks and a glance at her father. ' Why, Percival ! 
 are they expecting you ? ' 
 
 ' No, I have not said a word.' 
 
 ' But — are you going to stay with them at Drumduskie?' 
 
 * No, not that ; I am going there — let me see — fishing.' 
 
 1 Fishing ! Percival— now — at this time ? ' 
 
 4 Never mind why — I am going there. I want to get away 
 from this deuce of a worry. Is not that enough 1 1 shall find 
 a shake-down somewhere.' 
 
 ' I am sure my sister will be charmed to take you in. You 
 know her.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; I met her when she was down staying here, and 
 Rose, too. She's a nice girl. And I know the little one also. 
 I forget her name.' 
 
 ' Flora.' 
 
 ' Yes, Flora. Of course, she's only a school-girl.' 
 
 ' But you will write?' 
 
 'No, 1 sha'n't, I'll drop in. 1 shall go to the inn. If they 
 ask me to stay with them I may accept, but I don't know. I 
 like my independence, my pipe and my whisky, and to stretch
 
 WANTED: AN ADDRESS. 147 
 
 my legs, as and where and how I like. No ; I shall put up 
 for a day or two at the inn. If you have a commission I'll 
 take it.' 
 
 Then Charles, the footman, came in. 
 
 ' There is Mr. Physic in the study, sir,' he said. ' Shall I 
 tell him to wait 1 ' 
 
 1 Not for us,' said Mrs. Curgenven, hastily rising. ' No, we 
 must go. Come, papa. We will not detain you, Percival, 
 from business.' 
 
 ' And,' said Mr. Pamphlet, ' do try to compromise this 
 matter with the cook — or shall Jane see her, and attempt an 
 arrangement 1 I dare say a five-pound note will suffice. What- 
 ever you do, keep out of the papers, and if it can't be done 
 otherwise, pay for being passed over. We won't detain you 
 now.' 
 
 * Don't get Physic to find servants for you, Percival,' said 
 Mrs. Curgenven, as she left the room. ' But can I help you, 
 or will you leave it till you return from Scotland ! ' 
 
 When Mrs. Curgenven was outside with her father, she put 
 her hand on his arm, pressed it, and said, ' You see he was 
 struck with Rose. I had an idea at the time when she was 
 staying with us last summer, and Percival was in the house 
 too. He would make her laugh with his nonsense, and take 
 her about the grounds to see this and that, and chaff her 
 about a Scottish accent, and the tartan, and all that sort of 
 thing.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Jane, he is some twenty or thirty years older 
 than Rose.' 
 
 ' What of that 1 it will be pleasant for me to have a niece 
 here rather than a stranger ; and Lady Tregontick will most 
 certainly tackle him for one of her daughters unless he be 
 put beyond her reach.' 
 
 ' But it will provoke comment, I fear.' 
 
 ' It will make Lady Tregontick ready to tear out my eyes. 
 If I can't be at Curgenven myself, let us have there one of 
 ourselves and not a stranger — that is all I desire. Besides, 
 Percival needs licking into shape, and Rose is the woman to 
 bring him into order; she is more like her mother and me 
 than any one I know.'
 
 148 MPS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 TIIK QHOST OF A WILL. 
 
 Wiikn Mr. Percival Curgenven entered the library, he found 
 
 Physic at (he window, with his bands behind his back under 
 the tails of his coat, watching the departure of Mr. Pamphlet 
 and his daughter. The agent's sides were shaking with 
 laughter. 
 
 Physic turned round, and withdrawing one hand, and 
 pointing with his thumb through the glass, said: 'Madam 
 would give a thousand pounds to be hack here again and able 
 to turn you out.' 
 
 1 1 dare say,' replied Percival carelessly. ' And I don't know 
 that I should particularly object to be out of it.' 
 
 ' Oh, come I Tell that to the marines.' 
 
 ' It's a fact. If I were in the Pill-box, no cook wovdd borrow 
 my dog-cart, coachman, and roan to drive into town to take 
 out a summons against me — for one thing because I shouldn't 
 have a cook there — and life would he worth living then.' 
 
 'I don't understand.' 
 
 'It doesn't matter,' said Percival, throwing himself into a 
 chair. 'As Jane said, one needn't rake out all one's domestic 
 worries before strangers.' 
 
 'There's a difference between four thousand and a hundred 
 and fifty, eh?' said the agent with a leer. 
 
 ' Materially, a difference of three thousand eight hundred 
 and fifty worries. I haven't very broad shoulders, I don't 
 think I can stand them all.' 
 
 ' Four thousand a year broadens the shoulders wonderfully, 
 makes epaulettes, in fact. You have not as yet been here long 
 enough to enjoy the comfort of being able to thrust your 
 fingers over knuckles in gold.' 
 
 'I have been here long enough to get my hands full of 
 prickles.' 
 
 'There are ups and downs in this world,' said Physic, 'and 
 those who rise the fastest are often the quickest to descend.' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' observed Percival with indifference, ' though 
 how I'm to be tumbled back into nothingness is not clear to 
 me.' 
 
 ' You'd go down like lead if another will were to turn up.'
 
 THE GHOST OF A WILL. 149 
 
 ' Ah ! Another will — perhaps so. But none has been 
 found.' 
 
 ' Awkward for you, sir, were one discovered.' 
 
 'Perhaps so.' 
 
 Percival lit a cigar. 
 
 1 Do you smoke 1 ' 
 
 ' Thank you, if I may.' 
 
 The agent helped himself from Percival's case, and lit his 
 cigar. He puffed at it for a minute without saying anything. 
 Then he withdrew the cigar from his mouth between his two 
 first fingers, and said, looking sideways at Percival, ' I suppose 
 you have no suspicion that the captain made another will.' 
 
 ' By George, no ! ' exclaimed Mr. Curgenven, startled out of 
 his indifference. ' When 1 ' 
 
 ' Look here,' said Physic, ' I've got the draft of it. I, in 
 fact, drew it up for him. May I spread it on the desk? 
 You'd like to look it through. It is only a rough draft, and 
 not a signed and attested will.' 
 
 He went to the writing-table, replaced the cigar between 
 his lips, and drew an envelope from his pocket, opened it, and 
 extracted a folded paper. He laid it on the desk that was 
 upon the table, and passed his hand over it, spreading it out, 
 and flattening the creases. 
 
 ' There you are, sir, look as long as you like.' 
 
 Percival went to the table, put down his cigar beside the 
 desk, and carefully read the document. When he had mastered 
 the contents, and had turned it over and made sure it was 
 unsigned, he said — ■ 
 
 ' I see. Lambert wanted to provide for his wife — I mean 
 for Jane — in the event of his first wife appearing on the scene. 
 I suppose this will if executed would be a legal document?' 
 
 1 ISTo doubt about it. Everything is left to Jane Pamphlet, 
 commonly known as Jane Curgenven, and to you in trust for 
 his daughter Alice. There is provision, as you see, for your 
 annuity to continue as trustee, and something for madam.' 
 
 ' So I see,' said Percival musingly ; ' are you sure he never 
 made such a will 1 ' 
 
 ' I am not sure at all. This is the rough draft ; he had the 
 fair copy from me.' 
 
 1 Then where is it 1 ' 
 
 1 Exactly — where 1 ' 
 
 ' Jane cannot have found it. It was not in the box of deeds 
 nor in his desk. Of course, if she had found it, she would have 
 produced it.'
 
 150 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 'Of course she would.' 
 
 1 Then where can it be? Do you know whether it was ever 
 executed 1 ' 
 
 ' 1 am almost sure that it was.' 
 
 ' What makes you almost sure ? ' 
 
 ' Because the captain told me he had signed it, and told me 
 who had witnessed his signature. Fie purposely chose two 
 ignorant and illiterate men, so ho informed me, lest they 
 should got a glimpse of the contents.' 
 
 ' Who were they 1 ? ' 
 
 I Old Roger Morideg and Pike the trainer.' 
 'By George ! I'll ask them about it.' 
 
 ' I believe Morideg is in prison. He was sent there for 
 violent conduct towards me.' 
 
 ' No, he is out. He came back to his cottage yesterday, 
 and, by Jove ! Physic, not in the most affectionate mood 
 towards yourself. I advise you to look out. The old chap 
 is furious, and he is half a savage.' 
 
 ' I am not afraid of him. If he touches me, I shall send 
 him to prison again, and next Lady-day his notice will have 
 expired, and I shall turn him out of his cottage and tear it 
 down. I am getting up a company for working the tin there, 
 and begin operations next spring.' 
 
 'Well, never mind the tin-mine. What about this will? 
 If it was executed I suppose it is somewhere.' 
 
 ' And if somewhere, then you will have to return to the 
 Pill-box, and give up your three thousand eight hundred aud 
 fifty worries for a hundred and fifty, as before.' 
 
 Percival seated himself, and took up the cigar. It had 
 gone out. 
 
 I I say, lend me a light, Physic,' he said. As he put his 
 cigar to that of the agent his hand shook, and he had difficulty 
 in relighting his weed. Then he threw himself into an aim- 
 chair, and looked round the library at the handsome mahogany 
 furniture, the chairs leather covered, the bookcases with the 
 well-bound volumes on the shelves, the white marble busts 
 above the cases, the deep Turkey carpet on the floor, aud the 
 plush curtains to the windows. Certainly he would not readily 
 abandon the possession of such a house, so many comforts, the 
 wealth, the position. He had felt the annoyances to which 
 he had been subjected, but, after all, they were trifling and 
 transitory, aud Curgenven House, (he grounds, the estate, the 
 shooting, the fishing, the manorial lordship, and four thousand 
 a year were substantial comforts. He had tasted them, and he
 
 THE GHOST OF A WILL. 151 
 
 could not abandon them without a pang. Then, there was 
 Justinian to be considered. He was well aware that he had 
 not given the boy an education that would fit him to take his 
 proper place in life ; how could he on his little income ? But 
 now he intended to have a tutor for him, and insist on his 
 sticking to his books, and then send him to Oxford to polish 
 him up. Justinian had brains, and he had good sense. He 
 would know that now he must qualify to be a country gentle- 
 man. But if the estate were to go from him, back Justinian 
 would fall into his former condition, and he must become a 
 settler in a colony without capital on which to settle, or go to 
 a desk in a counting-house. And Justinian had been more 
 delighted at the change of position than he had been himself. 
 The boy was by nature cut out to be a young squire. The 
 father loved and was proud of his boy. It would be a bitter 
 grief to him to see the lad disappointed. 
 
 Physic watched Percival's face. He divined what was 
 working in his brain. 
 
 ' I suppose,' said the agent slowly, ' if you were to come 
 across that will, it would go pretty quickly into the fire 
 yonder.' He pointed with his cigar to the grate with oak 
 logs burning in it. 
 
 ' By Jove, no ! ' exclaimed Percival, drawing his feet back 
 sharply. ' I'm not a scoundrel.' 
 
 1 What ! you would produce this will and upset the other 1 ' 
 
 ' I suppose so. I could do no otherwise.' 
 
 Physic looked at him with surprise. He could not under- 
 stand whether Percival Curgenven were a hypocrite or a fool. 
 
 1 What ! you'd turn yom-self out head and heels from this 
 place]' 
 
 ' If the will were to be discovered, of course I would. I'm 
 not so sure that I ought not to act on the mere draft. It was 
 clearly what poor Lambert intended.' 
 
 ' Unless he destroyed the will after he had made it.' 
 
 « Why should he do that 1 ' 
 
 'Well, he might not like to cast any suspicion on his 
 marriage. It would have been awkward, were that will to 
 be produced and suddenly Mrs. Jane to find that she had not 
 been a wife at all, but a ' 
 
 ' Yes — yes — yes ! ' said Percival hastily. ' Of course that is 
 like enough, when years passed and Theresa never showed.' 
 
 His face cleared, he drew a long breath, he was relieved 
 from his fear. 'Yes— that is certain. He thought it best 
 to leave the whole matter to my discretion. Jane sha'n't
 
 152 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 suffer , nor, by George ! shall Alice. I will act as I know 
 would have commended itsrlf to dear old Lambert; that I 
 swear.' 
 
 ' There is another idea strikes me,' said Physic. ' Some one 
 may have bad that will given to him to use or not to use, 
 according as circumstances might require.' 
 
 'Yes — there is that,' said Percival, again looking blank. 
 ' Have you tin- will ?' 
 
 'I — liow c.in you think that?' 
 
 1 From your making the suggestion. But, of course, you 
 have not, or you would have come forward with it. It can't 
 be at the bank, I suppose.' 
 
 1 No, it is not at the bank.' 
 
 ' Then I don't know where it can be, if it exists.* 
 
 1 And if eventually it should be sprung on you by some one 
 to whom it was conhded, and he offered to destroy it for — for 
 a consideration 1 ' 
 
 •Destroy the will?' 
 
 • Yes, or, rather, say nothing about it. Why, 'pon my word, 
 a thousand pounds would be nothing like the value to you of 
 having that paper in your bands, or having some one else to 
 tear it to pieces and burn it, without your having touched it.' 
 
 'I'm not a scoundrel,' said Percival, uneasily. 'I do not 
 understand you. Is that will in existence ? If it is, who has 
 it? Mind what I say. Not one step would I take to suppress 
 it. If I knew that you, say, had it, or the butler, or that 
 damned cook who has borrowed — but there, never mind that 
 — I'd obtain an order or warrant, or whatever you call it, to 
 have it delivered up, and I'd carry it to the registrar myself 
 and prove it.' 
 
 ' And your own self saw in half the branch on which you 
 sit?' 
 
 'I would do what is right and honourable. I am a Curgen- 
 ven. I'd go back to my hundred and fifty and into the Pill- 
 box, and bundle Justinian off to the backwoods with a light 
 heart — never would I connive at a piece of rascality such as 
 you suggest.' 
 
 'Is this talk?' asked Physic, still uncertain. 'Let us 
 suppose this draft were the actual signed and attested will, 
 and I were to say, Give me a thousand pounds, and I put it 
 in my pocket and walk away with it, and never shall it 
 1)6 seen by human eye again. Come, what would be your 
 decision ? ' 
 
 ' T could never look my boy in the face again if I did such
 
 THE GHOST OF A WILL. 153 
 
 a dishonest act. If you have the real will, produce it, and see 
 if I am not as good as my word.' 
 
 ' I haven't the will, so you may rest satisfied you will not 
 be put to the test.' 
 
 Physic folded up the draft, replaced it in the envelope, and 
 consigned it once more to his pocket. 
 
 ' I think I'll say good-afternoon,' said he. ' I have one or 
 two little jobs to see to before returning to Liskeard.' 
 
 1 Good-afternoon,' said Percival listlessly ; and he did not 
 look up at the agent as he left the study. No sooner was he 
 out of the room, however, than Percival started from his chair, 
 ran to the door, and called him back. 
 
 ' I say — Physic ! I'm off to Scotland — to-day, to-morrow, 
 when I can. Hang it ! The cook has borrowed my trap 
 and horse, but I suppose there is another. I can have the 
 wagonette anyhow. Have you a train-book 1 ? I am sick of 
 this. I must go. I only wait to have my things tumbled 
 into a portmanteau, and then say good-bye to Justinian.' 
 
 • Off to Scotland ! This is sudden.' 
 
 ' Yes, and all the servants here are in insurrection, and all 
 the neighbours with marriageable daughters are pouring in, 
 
 besieging me. I must find — I mean I must But there, 
 
 never mind what I mean. My head has been on a spin ever 
 since I came in for this estate, and may I be hanged if I 
 know what I ought to do about it now. Will you square off 
 these servants? I can't — they are beyond me. Pay them 
 what is necessary, and threaten that cook with prosecution 
 for having taken my dog-cart, roan, and groom without leave. 
 Jane had ottered to meddle, but I won't have her in the place. 
 You take this off my hands. Justinian will get along without 
 me. Bathsheba will see that he does not come short. Oh — 
 and give an eye that the gardener does not rob the green- 
 houses of all the valuable plants and cut the roots of the 
 fruit trees. That is what these retiring gardeners do. And 
 see that the maids don't smash any of the china, and that the 
 butler doesn't walk off with any of the silver, and the house- 
 maid run a broom-handle through any of the pictures. And 
 get me in another lot of servants by the time I come back.' 
 
 ' When will that be ? ' 
 
 'That is more than I can say.' 
 
 1 But — if I may ask — what takes you to Scotland 1 ' 
 
 ' The mail, my boy. If you want to know my reason for 
 going, wait and see. I'll make you rub your eyes.'
 
 154 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH. 
 
 'Drumduskie ! Is it not sweet 1 ?' 
 
 'What is sweet, my love?' 
 
 'What is sweet? Why, what else can I mean, what else 
 can I be thinking of, but that Rose is going to become Mrs. 
 Curgenven of Curgenven ? ' 
 
 ' 1 s it settled ? ' asked Mr. Boxholder. 
 
 1 Settled ! No, not exactly that. But everything is on the 
 high-road to a settlement. Mr. Percival has arrived, and is 
 staying at the Railway Hotel. I invited him to be our guest, 
 but he declined. I can understand his delicacy.' 
 
 'But, surely, Isabella— because Mr. Jack This or Mr. Tom 
 That is put up at the Railway Hotel, that does not constitute 
 him our son-in-law.' 
 
 Mrs. Boxholder turned a stony eye on her husband, and he 
 shrank under her petrifying stare. 
 
 ' Upon my word, Drumduskie, you forget your manners 1 
 Do you know whom you are addressing ? ' 
 
 After holding him with her eye in speechless collapse for a 
 minute, she sighed : ' Well, one cannot make a silk purse out 
 of a sow's ear. I suppose a good deal of inherent barbarism 
 remains in the Scottish blood. I will pass this over and 
 answer your question. Mr. Percival Curgenven is here, and 
 the purpose of his coming all the way from Cornwall has been 
 communicated to me by Jane. He told her that he came here 
 to seek a wife.' 
 
 ' He's a little, a — I mean a wee bit old for Rose,' said Mr. 
 Boxholder timidly, holding the mantelshelf. 
 
 ' Not a bit. The match is suitable in every way. Ho is, I 
 do allow, a little cubbish — has, in spite of his age, never grown 
 (jiiite out of cubdom ; he has, I believe, tumbled about a long 
 time in the backwoods, or the bush, or jungle, or somewhere 
 of the sort ; but if ever there were a girl calculated to bring 
 such a man to order and trim him into shape it is my child. 
 What a nose she has ! ' 
 
 ' Vis, she has a nose.' 
 
 ' I mean such character in it. ' 
 
 ' Yes, dear, I suppose so, a y ivat deal of character in her nose.'
 
 THE FOURTEENTH. 155 
 
 ' And breeding,' added Mrs. Boxholder. 
 
 'No doubt, darling. Plenty of breeding in her nose.' 
 
 1 She will look, every inch, the squiress of Curgenven. No 
 one could have been found more suitable to succeed Jane. She 
 also had a nose.' 
 
 ' Of course she had, my sweet.' 
 
 'I mean a Pamphlet nose.' 
 
 Mrs. Boxholder lighted a spill at the fire and applied the 
 flame to the candles. ' I hear wheels,' she said. ' It is those 
 McGruffs, always either half-an-hour too soon, or half-an-hour 
 too late.' 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Boxholder were in evening dress ; the lady in 
 mauve silk and darker velvet, with lace and diamonds, not 
 many diamonds, nor fine, but some. She had not found that 
 there was jewellery among the heirlooms of the MacNaughts 
 of Drumduskie, so she had obliged her husband to give her 
 some. ' It was incumbent on the MacNaught to have his 
 wife adorned in a manner suitable to her position,' she had 
 said. 'It is the McGruffs,' said Mrs. Boxholder. 'Now, 
 Drumduskie, mind, Rose is to have a proper dower. What 
 are you going to give her % She shall not be sent off like a 
 beggar.' 
 
 ' My dear, upon my word, I have not considered.' 
 
 'Then the sooner you consider the better. Mr. Percival 
 proposes to-night. You shall not go to sleep till you have 
 decided what to give her ; and mind, I'll pull your pillow from 
 under your head and throw it across the room if the sum yon 
 propose does not seem reasonable to me.' 
 
 ' I'll do my best, my darling, I will indeed. But here come 
 the McGruffs. Where is the list of those who are to take in 
 whom 1 ' 
 
 'It will come right. I have not made out the list. I'll 
 settle it ; and, look here, no sneaking off to the smoking-room 
 with one or two chums, and leaving me to entertain the rest.' 
 Then : ' How do you do, dear Mrs. McGruff t So delighted to 
 see you.' 
 
 Mr. Percival Curgenven was, in fact, at Drumduskie, and 
 had called that afternoon, when Mrs. Boxholder had invited 
 him to dinner. As it happened, she had a pleasant little party 
 assembling that evening at her house, and she would be 
 charmed if Mr. Percival would make one of the guests. He 
 had accepted. Mrs. Boxholder had no doubt whatever as to 
 his intentions, because Mrs. Jane Curgenven had had no doubt 
 whatever.
 
 156 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Percival had met Mrs. Boxhokler and her eldest daughter 
 Rose more than once at Curgenven when they were staying 
 there. Last summer he hud been a guest in the house at the 
 same time. Percival had amused himself with playful passages 
 of arms with Miss Boxholder. She was a prim ami rigid old 
 young woman, and he had found entertainment in startling 
 her and disturbing her gravity. Rose did not care for him, 
 had not given him a thought, save as a scatterbrained, half- 
 wild Curgenven cousin. Now she was quite unprepared by 
 her mother for receiving him as a suitor. But Mrs. Box- 
 holder knew her daughter, and was well aware that she would 
 decide in accordance with prudence. She was not the young 
 lady to let slip four thousand per annum for such a trifle as 
 the encumbrance of a man for whom she did not care. 
 
 The guests arrived, mainly together, about twelve minutes 
 after the McG ruffs. Then Mrs. Boxholder was greatly taken 
 up with receiving them, and whisking about, informing the 
 gentlemen whom they were to escort in to dinner. She acted 
 on her husband much as a little whirlwind on a feather, pur- 
 suing it, spinning it, driving it from place to place. 
 
 ' Drumduskie, you take in Lady Duff-Duff. Now mind you 
 carve the goose, and remember that there is stuffing.' 
 
 When she had revolved into another corner of the drawing- 
 room she caught him again, and said in an undertone : ' Re- 
 member ; over the wine no London shop talk.' Then, coming 
 on Mr. Percival : 'Ah, Mr. Curgenven, how good of you to 
 come to us North Britons from delightful Cornwall 1 You 
 will take in my daughter Rose, and don't squabble, as you 
 used to at dear Curgenven.' Presently she swept across 
 the drawing-room towards Mr. Boxholder, who had got to 
 the other side of the room, as he usually did. ' Now, really, 
 haven't you heard the butler announce that dinner is ready? 
 Do, for pity's sake, take in Lady Duff-Duff.' 
 
 1 My dear, I am looking for her.' 
 
 ' You won't find her in a corner. She is on the sofa, there 
 behind the cushion,' pointing to a diminutive old lady who sat 
 in a little heap, and was the most untidily and incongruously 
 dressed person in the room. 
 
 After Mr. Boxholder had offered his arm to this lady all 
 the rest followed, and tho hostess brought up the rear with 
 Sir Archibald Dull- Dull'. 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Boxholder. ' I'm so sorry, Mr. 
 West-, that you have no partner. It, is most unfortunate ; I 
 am heart-broken.' This to a solitary gentleman. In fact, the
 
 THE FOURTEENTH. 157 
 
 party had been made up before the invitation of Mr. Percival 
 Curgenven, so that Mr. West's partner had been consigned to 
 some one else. 
 
 But no sooner was grace said, and all were seated, than 
 Mrs. Boxholder started to her feet with an exclamation of 
 dismay that created a dead silence. 
 
 ' Goodness me ! ' she said ; ' we are thirteen.' 
 ' Well/ responded Mr. Boxholder from the further end of 
 the table, ' and what of that, my dear? ' 
 
 ' Why, Drumduskie, we cannot sit down thirteen to table.' 
 ♦ Why not 1 It won't hurt us.' 
 
 ' My dear, it is not possible. We are in Scotland, and 
 must be superstitious. You forget. Thirteen ! It will never 
 do. Run, Thompson, to the school-room for Miss Flora.' 
 
 ' Are we really thirteen ] ' asked Rose. Then she began to 
 count, ' I am one ; ' then she counted all round the table, and 
 the thirteenth fell on Percival Curgenven. 
 
 ' No, no,' said he, ' let me count the opposite way. You are 
 one, — two, — three;' the thirteenth then fell to him. 
 
 ' Well,' said he with a laugh, ' then I won't be the thir- 
 teenth, I'll sit at another table. In Cornwall we are as super- 
 stitious as you are in Scotland, or are supposed to be.' 
 
 ' Please, ma'am,' said the servant, returning from the school- 
 room, ' Miss Flora has a sick head-ache, and is gone to bed.' 
 
 ' There ! a fate is in it,' said Sir Archibald ; ' one of us must 
 be sacrificed, you see.' 
 
 ' Let two of us go to a side table,' said Percival, ' Miss 
 Rose and I ; then if we quarrel we shall disturb no one.' 
 
 Mrs. Boxholder hesitated a moment, and then said, ' No, we 
 cannot do that.' 
 
 ' I am the odd man,' said Mr. West ; ' surely I am the one 
 who should perish for the rest. Let me go to the side table.' 
 
 ' No, Mr. West,' answered the hostess. * If you do not 
 mind — I am very sorry, but I will give you a partner. I am 
 ashamed to ask it, but it will be the simplest arrangement. 
 Would you object to the governess coming to be fourteenth, 
 and sitting between you and Mr. Curgenven ] ' 
 ' Delighted, I am sure,' said Mr. West. 
 
 1 You are most kind to say so,' remarked Mrs. Boxholder ; 
 and then to the servant : ' Thompson, go to the school-room 
 and tell Mrs. Lambert to come here as she is, not to dress, we 
 can't wait for that. We cannot begin till she comes to be the 
 fourteenth.' Then to Mr. West : ' I am sure you are most 
 self-sacrificing ; I am sorry to seem to put upon you, but you
 
 158 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 see I cannot help myself. You need not talk to her more 
 than you like' 
 
 A moment later Theresa entered, not agitated] quiet in 
 demeanour, apparently indifferent to the fact that she was not 
 in evening dress. Her pale sallow face was handsome, and 
 those who saw that forgot how she was dressed. 
 
 Mr. West at once looked with a gratiried expression at the 
 hostess that plainly said, ' I am by no means dissatisfied with 
 my lot,' but Mrs. Box holder did not observe it ; with her fan 
 she pointed haughtily to the empty seat, and Theresa, with a 
 slight bow to her, took the place indicated. 
 
 At once Percival turned and greeted her with effusion. 
 ' So,' said he, ' I see you at length. Only think of this 1 As 
 a stop-gap ! I am so glad — so glad you are beside me.' 
 
 She raised her large speaking eyes and smiled. 
 
 There was something that touched Percival's heart in the 
 solitariness of Theresa. He looked round the table at the 
 ladies there, well dressed — with the exception of Lady Duff- 
 Duff — got up to look their best, and then he turned to 
 Theresa, in her sober dark dress without other adornment than 
 a flower fastened in her bosom, her dark hair glossy and 
 smooth, her ivory complexion and lustrous eyes ! In beauty 
 — though that was matured and perhaps tending to decline — 
 she was incomparably superior to those who were in full 
 war-paint at table. And yet she made no assumption to be 
 anything. 
 
 4 Theresa,' said Percival in a low tone, ' I must have a word 
 with you presently.' 
 
 ' I do not know when it can be.' 
 
 ' I have come all the way lor your answer to my question.' 
 
 ' What question 1 ' 
 
 1 That I cast through the carriage-window.' 
 
 She looked into her plate. ' I cannot give it you now.' 
 
 ' No, I do not exact it now. But have it I must.' 
 
 Nothing further passed between them ; Percival's attention 
 was drawn away by Miss Boxholder, who wanted to know 
 what Mr. Curgenven could tell her about Aunt Jane and 
 Alice and Mr. Pamphlet, and about various matters connected 
 with Curgenven. 
 
 Percival did his best to answer, and Mrs. Boxholder glanced 
 with satisfaction at her daughter and guest, in the conviction 
 that they were getting on famously together. 
 
 Presently Percival had another chance of turning to his 
 neighbour on the other side.
 
 IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM. 159 
 
 ' Theresa ! do you know that you have saved my life ? ' 
 
 ' Surely not.' 
 
 'Yes, I was number thirteen, and you came in and made 
 the fourteenth, so I have escaped. I owe you a debt for that.' 
 
 ' An imaginary debt is easily repaid. I owe you a real 
 obligation, for you set and healed my arm.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I forgot about that. So you are well now ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, except for a slight stiffness. Now pray talk to Miss 
 Hose, or her mother will visit your neglect on me.' 
 
 ' Where shall you be after dinner 1 ' 
 
 ' That depends. If Mrs. Boxholder wishes my presence, in 
 the drawing-room. If not, I suppose I shall go back to the 
 school-room.' 
 
 ' Very well. I shall find you somewhei-e ; in the drawing- 
 room or the school-room. I have come to Scotland to see you 
 — and you only.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN THE SCHOOL- ROOM. 
 
 When Percival Curgenven entered the drawing-room with 
 the gentlemen after the coffee had been passed round, his eye 
 wandered in quest of Theresa, and he was soon aware that she 
 was not there. Mrs. Boxholder had given her a look accom- 
 panied by a slight wave of her hand as she rose from table ; 
 this had not escaped Percival, and he understood now its 
 significance. 
 
 Theresa had accomplished what had been required of her, to 
 make the fourteenth, and was dismissed back into seclusion, 
 to the nursery or to the school-room, and was not to appear 
 in the drawing-room. She was not dressed for the evening, 
 and was consequently unsuited to be with the rest, and only 
 suffered to be among them for so long as was required to avert 
 ill-luck from the party. 
 
 Percival's teeth closed, and a little spot of colour rose on 
 his cheek-bones. If Mrs. Boxholder had looked his way she 
 would not have liked the expression of his eye turned towards 
 her. 
 
 He hoped against hope that Theresa would return. The
 
 160 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 party was not lively; it const-*' d for tho mosi part of elderly 
 persons, and there were elements that damped cheerfulness. 
 Conversation rose, Hagged, rose again, again to flag. A young 
 lady sang, and sang out of tune. Mr. Wee* attempted a 
 humorous ditty, but the accompanist had never tried the piece 
 before, did not catch the character, and was unable to accom- 
 modate the time to Mr. West's somewhat capricious rendering. 
 Consequently voice and piano were not together, and the comic 
 song proved a dismal failure; no one laughed, and Mr. West, 
 very much ashamed of himself, retired into a coiner and looked 
 at an album of photographs. 
 
 Miss Rose without much persuasion was induced to play 
 ' Le Carnaval do Venise,' of which every one knew every note 
 by heart ; she played it in a hard, unsympathetic manner. 
 Conversation halted at the first few bars, and then resumed 
 its uneven and straggling course. Mr. Curgenven stood by 
 the piano and turned over the music pages for R<>m\ 
 
 1 Now,' said he, ' why do you not give us the " Drumduskie 
 Pibroch" or the "MacNaught Strathspey"?' 
 
 Miss Boxholder looked sharply at him to see whether he 
 were making fun of her, but his muscles did not betray his 
 thoughts. ' Come,' said he, • we are old acquaintances ; a word 
 with you in the conservatory.' 
 
 The French windows opened into a glazed gallery that ran 
 the length of the house, and was lighted by pendant lamps of 
 ruby glass. It was furnished with flowers and ferns and 
 plants of variegated foliage. 
 
 Mrs. Boxholder's eye followed Mr. Curgenven and her 
 daughter as they entered the conservatory, and she tlashed a 
 gleam of triumph across the room at her husband, then hinted 
 to Lady Duff-Duff the secret that filled her maternal heart 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 1 To propose, is he ? ' asked Lady Duff -Duff in a loud tone. 
 She was somewhat deaf herself and spoke loudly, as though 
 every one she addressed were three degrees deafer than herself. 
 Mrs. Boxholder bit her lip. The words had been overheard, 
 and at once a good many pairs of eyes were directed towards 
 the conservatory. 
 
 When Percival was out of the room with Rose Boxholder 
 he said : ' I will tell you at once what I want. How is your 
 governess's arm ? I attended her after the accident. Indeed, 
 it was Justinian and I who brought it about, and I feel a sort 
 of self-reproach accordingly.' 
 
 ' I suppose her arm is better.'
 
 IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM. 161 
 
 ' She can use it ; I saw that at dinner. Is it quite well 1 ' 
 
 ' I do not know, I suppose so.' 
 
 1 1 dare say you would be good enough to allow me to see 
 her for a moment, and find out that all is well. Her collar- 
 bone was broken.' 
 
 'Oh, certainly. I fancy she is in the school-room. We 
 can get to it this way ; one window opens into the conservatory.' 
 
 4 1 shall be much obliged. You know I am a surgeon by 
 profession, and this good hidy was my patient.' 
 
 Rose Boxholder led the way to the end of the conservatory 
 and tapped at a French window over which curtains hung ; 
 they were drawn aside, and Theresa appeared and unbolted 
 the door. 
 
 Rose stepped in, and as she did so Percival trod on the train 
 of her gown and tore it out of the gathers. She turned on 
 him with an expression of annoyance, and looked at the 
 mischief done. 
 
 ' You must go to Louisa and ask her to run it up for you,' 
 said Theresa ; ' you cannot return into the drawing-room in 
 this condition.' 
 
 Rose, without another word, but with shrugged shoulders 
 and a sulky mouth, swung out of the school-room in quest of 
 the lady's-maid ; so Percival and Theresa were left together. 
 
 The school-room was plainly furnished, but comfortable. A 
 pleasant fire was burning in the grate. By this Theresa had 
 been seated in a low chair. There was no other light in the 
 room save that thrown out by the coal fire. 
 
 ' You were sitting there,' said Percival, pointing to the 
 place from which she had risen to admit him and Rose. ' Go 
 back there again, and let me take a chair by you. I have 
 come nominally to inquire about your collar-bone, but you 
 know very well that I did not come from Cornwall for that 
 alone. You gave me no answer to a question I asked of you 
 as you whirled away from Plymouth. And, by the bye, there 
 is some money I borrowed of you ' 
 
 ' You sent it me.' 
 
 ' Did I ] I had forgotten. That was marvellous ; I am 
 usually forgetful.' 
 
 Percival Curgenven took a chair on the further side of the 
 fire-place to that occupied by Theresa on her low seat. 
 
 ' How are you here 1 ' he asked. ' Are they kind to 
 you 't ' 
 
 She had her hands folded on her knee. Her fingers plucked 
 at her dress ; she slightly smiled : ' I suppose so — as much as 
 
 M
 
 162 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 1 can expect. I must live, and I must take what I can to 
 live.' 
 
 ' Now I have come to ask you to leave this situation, and 
 come; to Curgenven. My cook borrowed my dog-cart and groom 
 and roan— without asking leave ' 
 
 ' What, you want me to take your situation as cook?' she 
 said, laughing. 
 
 'No; do not misunderstand me. All the servants are in 
 revolt. I do not understand how to manage them. I got on 
 well enough in the Pill-box, but in Curgenven 1 am lost. I 
 must have a wife to manage for me.' 
 
 'Asa sort of upper servant 1 ' 
 
 ' No,' said Percival impatiently. ' Of course not. I am 
 bewildered at Curgenven. I want a wife to manage for me. 
 I have not been accustomed to any other than a kick-about 
 life. I have tried ranching and sheej>-farming and timber- 
 felling, surgery, journalism, and have failed in all I undertook, 
 but never so dead as in my present position as squire. I bid 
 fair to upset the whole cart. Come and be my wife, Theresa, 
 and put me and Justinian and the place to rights. There is 
 Justinian. He must be sent to college, or something done 
 with him, and I don't know how to set about it. Then I don't 
 know how to pour out afternoon tea ; I gave tea-extract strong 
 as poison to one and water to another ; so that you see I 
 positively must have a wife.' 
 
 Theresa remained looking musingly into the fire with a half- 
 smile on her face, but with pain in the smile as well as amuse- 
 ment. She did not speak for some minutes, but at last looked 
 up full at Percival and said : ' I should indeed be ungrateful 
 were I to take you at your word without a caution. Do you 
 not see that the wife you want is quite another woman from 
 myself ? You require one full of experience of English social 
 life, not one who has been something of a Bohemian in her 
 career as well as by birth. You need one who will supply all 
 that is wanting in yourself. You and I have been hustled 
 about in the world, have lived a hand-to-mouth lite, associated 
 not with the best classes, the well-to-do, and well ballasted. 
 You feel now that you are at a loss how to steer in a shoaly 
 sea, and you ask for a pilot. For that I am unsuited. Take 
 to you one who has grown up in the great social cage, who 
 sees bars on every side and never thinks of beating her wings 
 against these bars, who is content with the groundsel and 
 sugar thrust in betwixt the bars, and lias not the wish to cater 
 for herself. That is the mate you require.'
 
 IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM. 163 
 
 1 1 know what you mean,' said Percival irritably ; ' you 
 advise me to match myself with a Jane Curgenven, who would 
 drive Justinian into revolt in a week and send me flying from 
 her into space in a fortnight. Do you think it possible I 
 could endure such a woman 1 One such as Jane cannot think 
 outside the cage-bars. The world without, the glorious sun- 
 shine, the free air, the rustling trees, the buttercup meadows 
 are tabooed. The birds of the air that nest in hedge and under 
 ivy are condemned and abhorred. Thank you for your kind 
 advice j it is unpalatable, and I will not take it. Achilles and 
 Siegfried were case-hardened, but each had a vulnerable point, 
 one at the heel, the other between the shoulder-blades, but 
 such a woman as Jane Curgenven is without a point through 
 which a needle might be thrust to prick her conscience. Such 
 women drive me to rebellion. No, Theresa, I must have a 
 wife who has gone through some such experience in life as 
 myself, who can understand my thoughts and troubles and 
 difficulties.' 
 
 ' Do you know my story 1 ' 
 
 ' I know how badly treated you were.' 
 
 'That is not all. By birth I am almost worse than a 
 nobody. Mrs. Fenton's relatives said that I was picked out 
 of a gutter, and harsh though the expression was, it is almost 
 true. My mother was some tramp ; she had lost her husband ; 
 she was taken ill with fever in a poor canvas tent in a raw 
 wet autumn in a green lane near where Mrs. Fenton lived in 
 Hampshire. I believe, but for her infinite kindness and gentle 
 pity, I should have died as well as my mother. The parish 
 authorities desired to move my mother; the ground was 
 sodden, the November rains had soaked the canvas of the tent 
 and the gales torn it ; but the doctor who was summoned said 
 that she could not be removed to the workhouse, and then 
 dear Mrs. Fenton intervened and took my mother in. I was 
 saved, but my mother died. Who my father was I do not 
 know, who my mother was I hardly know — gipsies perhaps, 
 tramps certainly, without relatives, without friends, and both 
 died before I knew anything. No kinsfolk have ever sought 
 me out and claimed relationship. I cannot tell, if I became 
 your wife and rich, what they might do, supposing there are 
 any — swarm round and pester me and you for money. Con- 
 sider that you have been a wanderer, and have formed no ties 
 in your neighbourhood. It would be well now for you to 
 attach to you a woman who is well connected in your neigh- 
 bourhood, and so through her you would be drawn into the
 
 164 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 county life of the families about Liskoard, whereas if you take 
 me you will never be other than an alien to it, tolerated by it, 
 not absorbed into it.' 
 
 1 1 have no particular eagerness to be absorbed into that 
 dull and narrow circle' 
 
 ' You have to live as country squire, associate with men of 
 the sanie class, and ought to he, in min<l and feeling, in touch 
 with it.' 
 
 'That I can never bo. I have seen the world, been in all 
 kinds of places and ;ill sorts of society, and cannot cramp my 
 thoughts and interests to the miserable pettinesses that occupy 
 their attention. Come, Theresa, take me. Upon my soul I 
 love and admire you as I do no other woman in the world. I 
 believe with faith unquestioning that I shall be happy with 
 you, and, so help me God, I will do my best to deserve your 
 regard and make you a happy woman.' 
 
 He put out his hand towards her. His sincerity was not to 
 be mistaken. His voice trembled as he spoke. 
 
 Then the curtains at the window were sharply drawn aside, 
 and Mrs. Boxholder appeared. 
 
 • Oh ! ' said that lady. ' Oh, indeed ! ' 
 
 The injudicious exclamation of Iiady Duff-Duff had been 
 heard, and had drawn attention to the fact that Mr. Curgenven 
 and Rose had retired into the conservatory. 
 
 ' Who is that strange gentleman 1 ?' asked Sir Archibald of 
 a lady near him. 
 
 ' A great Cornish squire, I believe,' she replied. 
 
 1 Bless me, you don't say so ! I thought by his looks he was 
 an American.' 
 
 Some parties, who had not heard what was said or gave it 
 no heed, were for sauntering into the lighted conservatory, 
 but were intercepted by Mrs. Boxholder. 
 
 ' I think — you will excuse me — I think you had better not. 
 Much vapour rises from the moistened soil at night, and as 
 you seem heated, it might give you a chill, you see, dear Mary 
 Grainger. I care for you as a mother. I cannot forget how 
 unwell you have been.' Then, whilst engaged in conversation 
 with Sir Archibald, she saw her husband make for the con- 
 servatory. At once she broke off what she was saying and 
 pursued him. 
 
 ' Drumduskie ! what are you about]' 
 
 'My dear, there is one of the lamps in the conservatory 
 smoking. 1 am going to turn it down.' 
 
 ' Let it smoke. Don't you know what is going on there 1'
 
 IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM. 165 
 
 ' No, my dear, only smuts falling.' 
 
 'Smuts ! Really you are too bad. Why Rose is receiving 
 an offer.' 
 
 1 Well, here she comes,' said Mr. Boxholder ; ' not much 
 concerned, I take it.' 
 
 As he spoke his eldest daughter entered from the hall-door, 
 and her mother at once hastened to her. 
 
 ' Well, dear, is all settled 1 ' 
 
 f I had torn my dress out of the gathers,' answered Rose ; 
 ' that is, Mr. Curgenven did it. So I have been to Louisa to 
 run it up. I have been as quick as I could.' 
 
 ' But where is Mr. Percival ] ' 
 
 1 In the school-room.' 
 
 1 Did you leave him there 1 ' 
 
 'Yes, mamma.' 
 
 ' Well, my dear, have you accepted him I ' 
 
 ' I do not understand, mamma.' 
 
 ' Hush ! every one is listening.' 
 
 Mrs. Boxholder was puzzled. She saw that eyes were fixed 
 on her and Rose, and that conversation had flagged. Every 
 one, who knew or suspected that a proposal had been made, 
 was intent to learn how it had been received. 
 
 Rose, quite unconscious of this, in the lull in the hum of 
 voices said, so that every one heard : ' Mr. Curgenven is in the 
 school-room, mamma ; he asked me to take him there. He 
 wanted to see and have a talk with the governess.' 
 
 Mrs. Boxholder's colour fell, but, recovering herself, she 
 said hastily, ' Yes, he has a message for her from Mr. Pamphlet. 
 But really he must not desert us ; I'll fetch him back.' 
 
 So the lady, with fluttering heart and rising anger, swept 
 along the conservatory, entered the school-room through the 
 half -open window, drew back the curtains, and saw Mr. Percival 
 Curgenven taking the hand of Theresa. He rose at once, so 
 did Theresa. 
 
 ' Allow me,' said Percival, ' to thank you, Mrs. Boxholder, 
 for your kindness and courtesy shown during the weeks she 
 has been with you to one who will shortly be Mrs. Curgenven 
 of Curgenven.'
 
 166 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A BROKEN BREAKFAST. 
 
 The dowager Mrs. Curgenven was at breakfast with her 
 father and daughter. She had supplied the first wants of botli 
 from the coffee-pot, and, before touchiug the bacon on her 
 plate, she opened her letters. 
 
 Mr. Pamphlet, lookiug up at an exclamation that had 
 escaped his daughter's lips, was surprised and startled to see 
 her face drawn with an expression unusual, that implied 
 physical or mental pain. Her hands had dropped on the table 
 and the letter had fallen to the ground. 
 
 ' Jane, what is it 1 ' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven tried to rise, then snnk back in her chair 
 again. 
 
 ' Bless me ! not a stroke i ' asked Mr. Pamphlet. 
 
 Jane Curgenven stooped, picked up the letter, and passed it 
 across the table to her father. 
 
 Mr. Pamphlet perused it without much emotion. It was 
 from Mrs. Boxholder. It related how that Mr. Curgenven 
 had called at Drumduskie, how that she, believing in the hint 
 thrown out by her sister, had invited him to dinner, how that, 
 instead of paying attention to Rose and asking for her hand, 
 he had proposed to tho governess. It went on to say that she 
 — Mrs. Boxholder — had immediately ordered Mrs. Lambert, 
 as an insolent, designing woman, who had used her house as a 
 trap in which to ensnare and capture a man of means, to quit 
 the house, and how that she believed that this woman was to 
 be married forthwith to Mr. Curgenven. 'I wish you joy, my 
 dear Jane,' said Mrs. Boxholder in conclusion ; ' I heartily 
 wish you joy of your new squiress — a crafty, speculating, 
 cunning, deceitful hussy, with no breeding, no manners, no 
 morals, no talents.' 
 
 The rector, having read the letter, folded it, then pushed his 
 cup towards Mrs. Curgenven, and said, in even tones : ' Half, 
 please, and not quite so sweet as the last.' 
 
 His daughter thrust back her chair from the table. 
 
 'Really, papa! ' she exclaimed, then rose and left the room. 
 
 'I'm afraid your mother is somewhat out of sorts,' said Mr. 
 Pamphlet to Alice, who was alarmed. ' You need not be 
 uneasy, it will pass. She wishes to be alone.'
 
 A BROKEN BREAKFAST. 167 
 
 ' But she has had no breakfast,' said the girl. 
 
 ' My dear, she has had a good deal more than she can digest,' 
 answered the rector. ' Will you half fill my cup, and not too 
 sweet, please 1 ' 
 
 When the Rev. Mr. Pamphlet had finished his breakfast he 
 leisurely retired to his study, where he unfolded his newspaper 
 and prepared to read it, when the door was opened and his 
 daughter entered. 
 
 ' Really, papa ! ' said Mrs. Curgenven, ' how could you 1 how 
 could you 1 ' 
 
 • Could what, my dear 1 ' 
 
 ' How could you pass your cup for more coffee, and concern 
 yourself about the sugar, after reading such a letter, learning 
 such news ? ' 
 
 ' I am not sure that this is not the best thing that could 
 have happened,' said the rector, folding his paper so as to be 
 able to get at the telegrams. 
 
 1 The best thing that could have happened, papa ! Do you 
 know that this abandoned creature will become Mrs. Curgenven 
 of Curgenven ] ' 
 
 •Why not, dear?' 
 
 ' Why 1 For a thousand reasons. She is not a fit person to 
 succeed me. She is not a fit person to be at the head of the 
 parish, to associate with the gentlefolks round, to bear the 
 name of Curgenven. She ' Jane quivered with indigna- 
 tion and wrath. 
 
 ' My dear,' said the rector with composure, ' you must con- 
 sider that she is, and was, Mrs. Curgenven. About that no 
 moral, as well as no legal, doubt can remain.' 
 
 'I dispute it altogether.' 
 
 ' But Physic has had properly attested extracts made from 
 the register of the Embassy at Naples.' 
 
 ' Registers have been tampered with before now.' 
 
 ' We have not the slightest grounds for supposing this to 
 have been done in the case of Lambert and ' 
 
 ' That creature I I do not care what the register may say. 
 It was no marriage. I do not believe it was anything but 
 a joke.' 
 
 ' It could not be a joke. There are more formalities to be 
 gone through for a marriage at an Embassy than in England.' 
 
 ' That vile creature may not have been of age.' 
 
 1 Of that we have no proof.' 
 
 ' I will not believe it. You, papa, speak of moral and legal 
 proof. Legal proof does not concern me ; legality and right
 
 168 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 are not synonymous terms. How often lias the wrong person 
 been accused and sentenced and hung for a murder ! — all in 
 the course of law. Legality does not count with me. And as 
 for moral certainty -that I have most unshaken. Why, 
 papa, have you considered that if the abominable conspiracy 
 between this creature and Physic were based on facts, that I 
 — I, your daughter — / who have been so many years Mrs. 
 Curgenven of Curgenven — would turn out to have been no 
 better than I should be, not a respectable person, and Alice — 
 Alice, my daughter, never ought to have been at all 1 Good 
 gracious me ! ' Mrs. Curgenven took the paper impatiently 
 from her father's hand and began to fan herself with it. ' A 
 moral impossibility ! I am as certain, as positive, that I have 
 been perfectly respectable, and everything that I ought to 
 have been, as that there is a heaven above my head and an 
 earth beneath my feet, and that I am Mrs. Curgenven, the 
 dowager, the widow, the legitimate widow of Captain Lambert.' 
 
 ' You beg the question throughout.' 
 
 ' I do not admit it to be a question.' 
 
 ' Now, my dear, do not become hot and exti*avagant.' 
 
 'I am not hot and extravagant, but I cannot understand 
 your pushing up your cup for coffee, and wanting less sugar, 
 when the character of your daughter and the legitimacy of 
 your grandchild were at stake.' 
 
 ' They were not at stake, Jane ; do be reasonable. What- 
 ever that story about Lambert's marriage may have been in 
 reality, the only menace to you was from that person who 
 claimed to have been Lambert's wife.' 
 
 1 She never was his wife.' 
 
 'Never mind that. Now she is about to become Mrs. 
 Curgenven of Curgenven, to occupy a position which she says 
 ought to have been hers for the last nineteen years. She 
 gains everything she has desired.' 
 
 ' It is monstrous that she — such a Thing as she — should get 
 her way.' 
 
 ' She has got it, and will be content. Every occasion for 
 her to rake up that miserable old story is taken from her.' 
 
 1 She will do it to spite me.' 
 
 'Not unless you drive her to do so by unreasoning im- 
 patience and resentment.' 
 
 ' Resentment indeed ! ' Mrs. Curgenven tossed her head ; ' as 
 if I could feel any such emotion as resentment towards such 
 a despicable, abandoned scum of womanhood as that 1 ' 
 
 'My deur, vour words are strong.'
 
 A BROKEN BREAKFAST. 169 
 
 'Not a particle too strong.' 
 
 ' I hope you will not show any ill-feeling towards her. 
 You are not justified in pronouncing on her moral chax-acter 
 without knowledge.' 
 
 ' Oh, I know ! ' 
 
 ' What do you know against her 1 ' 
 
 ' Never mind ; I do know.' 
 
 ' And I insist on being told what it is you have learned that 
 has not reached me.' 
 
 ' She has been on the stage.' 
 
 ' Well ; she had to earn her livelihood.' 
 
 ' Every one knows what the stage means, and in America 
 too!' 
 
 ' You are judging wickedly and cruelly.' 
 
 ' I know quite enough. The very fact that she pretends to 
 have been Lambert's wife is in itself condemnation. If that 
 were not enough, is it not fatal to her moral character that 
 she shoidd pounce down on Percival and devour him % ' 
 
 I Really, Jane, this is indeed unreasonable. You yourself 
 wanted to secure Percival for Rose.' 
 
 ' Oh, there is no harm in that.' 
 
 ' Then where is there the harm in this lady taking him 1 ' 
 
 ' Lady ! Papa, how can you speak of her by such a term 1 
 She is no lady, never was, and never can be.' 
 
 ' Instead of her pouncing down on Percival, it seems to me 
 that Percival has taken a long flight, hovered over Drum- 
 duskie, and swooped down on her.' 
 
 ' She summoned him there.' 
 
 ' How do you know 1 ' 
 
 I I am morally sure of it. Percival is a fool, and she is 
 clever as the evil one himself.' 
 
 ' Anyhow,' said the rector, ' give me my paper. The thing 
 is done, or will very soon be done. Percival has made his 
 choice, and this person will very shortly be here, installed in 
 the Manor-House as Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven.' 
 
 ' You are not going to be so wicked as to marry them 1 ' 
 
 1 1 am not asked. I presume they will be married in 
 Edinburgh or in London, and come on here after the wedding 
 or after the honeymoon. You will have to compose yourself 
 to receive them.' 
 
 ' I never will receive her. I never will go near the house. 
 I don't think I will go to church if she dares to show her 
 brazen face within the sacred walls.' 
 
 ' My dear Jane, you must not offend Percival or her.
 
 170 Mils. CURGKNVKN. 
 
 Remember there are all the clubs in the parish, there is the 
 National School, there is the Institute, the Parochial library, 
 ♦ lure are the mission woman and the Scripture reader, the 
 choir, the Hand of Hope, Anglo -Israel all dependent in the 
 main on the subscriptions from Curgenven House. I cannot 
 afford to be on bad terms with Percival, and that without 
 reason. Besides, it always has a bad look if the rector and 
 the squire do not pull together ; and, as a matter of course, 
 all the blame is thrown on the former. It stands in the way 
 of ministerial work, my dear Jane ' 
 
 Then in at the door burst Justinian, with flaming cheeks 
 and glittering eyes. 
 
 'Mr. Pamphlet — Aunt Jane ' — Mrs. Curgenven was not bis 
 aunt, but the boy had been allowed so to designate her — ' I 
 have had a letter from the gov. Oh, such dreadful things ! 
 He's going to be married. It is a shame; and I always 
 thought he loved my mother so. And it is to her who was 
 thrown out of the gig and broke her collar-bone. I don't say 
 but she's not such a bad lot, only now she'll be sticking 
 herself between us, and the boss and I will never be so 
 chummy as we have been.' His voice shook, tears were 
 forming in his eyes. 
 
 ' It is infamous ! That woman will disgrace your father 
 and the place,' said Mrs. Curgenven. 
 
 ' Be silent, Jane. I will not permit this.' The rector stood 
 up, he was roused and angry. Jane drew back with a sullen 
 look in her countenance. 
 
 ' My boy,' said Mr. Pamphlet, ' your father has a perfect 
 right to choose, and has no douht made the best choice he 
 could — one that will suit him. You must not blame him.' 
 
 ' It will spoil my happiness. The governor and I were 
 always together.' 
 
 ' It will have this good in it for you, that now you will go 
 to school.' 
 
 ' I am too old for that.' 
 
 'Then to a private tutor.' 
 
 'I should not mind. I shall be glad to be away. I cannot 
 bear to think of my father married, and she will very likely 
 turn his heart away from me.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven was about to speak, but her father raised 
 his hand in caution. 
 
 ' My dear Justin, in such a house as Curgenven there 
 must be a mistress. Your father could not get on without 
 a wife to manage for him. Now, as you know, everything
 
 A BROKEN BREAKFAST. 171 
 
 is in confusion, the servants leaving, and pillaging right 
 and left.' 
 
 ' Let him pay a woman to be his housekeeper. But to give 
 me another mother is too bad.' 
 
 ' No woman would look after his and your interests like one 
 who is his wife. Your father cannot in his present position 
 consult your fancies only, but what is best for the place, for 
 himself, and for you. Now, Justin, I am quite sure that 
 were he alone here, unassisted, he would become desperate.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that. She shall never be a mother to me.' 
 
 ' You will show respect to her as your father's wife.' 
 
 Justinian shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 Then arrived Mr. Physic. 
 
 ' So, sir,' said the agent, ' you have heard the news 1 
 Wonderful, is it not? Never expected that. I have had a 
 letter from Mr. Curgenven, and he-desires that the bells should 
 be rung, of course with your permission, to welcome him and 
 his bride when they arrive.' 
 
 ' When will that be I ' 
 
 ' In a week.' 
 
 1 Papa,' said Mrs. Curgenven, ' you never will allow that ! ' 
 Her colour rose. ' It will be a desecration of the bells.' 
 
 'I am the best judge of that, Jane,' said her father gravely. 
 ' Indeed I shall. It would be remarked were the bells not 
 to be rung. When Percival came into residence, with good 
 feeling and kindly thought for us, either the ringers did not 
 attempt to give him a peal or he forbade it. Now that he 
 returns with a wife, with Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven, of 
 course I shall allow the bells to be rung. You may write and 
 say so, Physic. It would be a gross and unpardonable offence 
 against good manners and against policy to refuse them on 
 such an occasion.' 
 
 ' Quite so. Hear, hear ! ' said Physic. • Clever, too, weren't 
 she, to catch the great prize, before any other anglers had 
 their rods out 1 ' 
 
 1 You will be pleased to remember his son is present,' said 
 the rector haughtily. 
 
 1 Bless me, so he is. How are you, young squire 1 ' 
 Justinian did not like the agent, and he responded with curtness 
 that was short courtesy. 
 
 ' Mr. Physic,' said Mrs. Curgenven, ' will you permit me a 
 word in the garden with you 1 ' 
 
 ' Certainly, madam,' and with a bow he held the door as she 
 swept out of the room.
 
 172 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVTTL 
 
 A SECOND DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 ' If I may trouble you,' said Mrs. Curgenven with a stiff 
 bend and an imperious wave of her hand in the direction of 
 the garden — that is to say, the walled rose-garden. A country 
 parsonage is not infrequently made sweet and lovely by its 
 old-fashioned garden. The parson has not at his command 
 sufficient glass and a sufficiently skilled gardener to indict on 
 him the fashionable bedded-out uniformity. He has to content 
 himself with the old favourite flowers that were the delight of 
 his predecessors, growing without more attention than occa- 
 sional weeding and thinning out ; flowers that have made the 
 garden their own, consider the beds as their own, and will 
 not be displaced for newer and more brilliant introductions ; 
 flowers robust in growth and hardy in constitution, exhaling 
 odour as of the Spice Isles, not leaving the soil bare and 
 barren for nine months and covering it for three, but coming 
 and going in wondrous order, a great variety, changing 
 kaleidoscopically every week, in winter represented by 
 Christmas roses and aralias, and a timid cheiranthus and 
 anemone. And the garden wall is covered with the old 
 monthly rose, over which the laundry-maid empties the 
 soapsuds every week, and which, in return, flowers abundantly 
 till the midst of January. 
 
 Into such a garden as this Mrs. Curgenven introduced Mr. 
 Physic. It possessed one long walk under a wall that faced 
 south, against which grew fig trees, yellow jessamine, and 
 traveller's joy. Under the wall was a narrow bed in which at 
 this time were beautiful pink Guernsey lilies and a border of 
 autumn colchicum. 
 
 ' Now, then,' said Mrs. Curgenven, ' what do you think of 
 this affair 1 Is there no way of stopping it? Can you not 
 find that this wretched woman has a husband alive ? ' 
 
 1 1 cannot do that, madam. I am sorry, but what can I 
 
 dor 
 
 ' It is not my place to say what you are to do. You are a 
 lawyer, and I suppose there are some means of preventing Mr. 
 Curgenven from making a fool of himself and covering the 
 family with discredit.' 
 
 1 Indeed, I know of no way.'
 
 A SECOND DISAPPOINTMENT. 173 
 
 ' But it is such a terrible thing ; that person is no more fit 
 to be in Curgenven than is Esther Morideg. No neighbours 
 will call. She will not be received into any decent house. It 
 will be intolerable— living so near, having her occupying my 
 rooms, sitting in my chair, having the key to my store-room. 
 It is contamination to think of it.' Then sharply turning on 
 Physic she asked : ' About her past history, what have you 
 learned ? ' 
 
 ' Very little. I never dreamed of her becoming the wife of 
 Mr. Percival. All / know about her concerns the marriage. 
 That I did investigate. I made the requisite inquiries at 
 Naples, and ascertained that she really had married Mr. 
 Lambert Curgenven when he was a young lieutenant. There 
 can be no doubt about the case. There is a family resident at 
 Salerno, I understand, that was at Naples at the time and 
 they remember the circumstances. I believe the chaplain who 
 married them is now incumbent of a parish in the east of 
 England. I am sorry to have to assure you that all doubts 
 as to the fact of the marriage are at an end. That is all I 
 know.' 
 
 ' Yes, you fancy you have established it. But have you 
 communicated with this incumbent in the east of England, and 
 this family at Salerno ] ' 
 
 ' I have not written to the latter, but to the former I have.' 
 
 ' I do not believe in this creature being the same person. 
 She has not been confronted with any of those who were at 
 the pretended marriage. How can you say she is not an 
 impostor, who, having heard of the affair, takes on herself the 
 role of being the neglected, ill-used wife ? ' 
 
 ' That view is possible, but it is easily dispelled. If need 
 arise for establishing the identity it can, no doubt, be done, 
 and what is questioned made quite certain.' 
 
 '"No doubt!" "quite certain!" You are all in league 
 against me. I do doubt. I am not certain, and till all is so 
 clear that every line of it can be read I will not believe, in the 
 first place, in the marriage ; and then, even suppose there were 
 this marriage, that the woman who has been here and has now 
 entangled Mr. Percival in her net is the same person who 
 secured Lambert — I mean my husband. If that woman comes 
 here I do not care where I go, what I do ; I will not remain 
 in the same place with her.' 
 
 ' So confess defeat,' said Physic with a smile. 
 
 ' What do you say 1 Confess defeat 1 You think it will be 
 so? Bather than that I will stay and confront her. Oh,
 
 174 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 would to Heaven ! — but no, 1 must not say that. By the way, 
 there was a scan lal — I heard you say BOmething about it— as 
 the reason why Lambert, supposing there were truth in the 
 story of the marriage, deserted her.' 
 
 1 Nothiug could be proved.' 
 
 4 But a great deal may be proved. There is no smoke with- 
 out tire.' 
 
 They had reached the end of the long walk. Then both 
 turned. 
 
 Physic, speaking slowly, asked : ' But if it be so unpleasant 
 to you, madam, to have the lady in this place, would you not 
 do your utmost to force her to quit it T 
 
 ' Of course I would. But what can I do ? ' 
 
 ' You must understand that I throw out a suggestion only. 
 There was — there may be still — a will in existence executed by 
 the late Captain Curgenven, that left everything to you in 
 trust for Miss Alice.' 
 
 • There is ! Where is it I ' 
 
 ' That is more than I can say. Some parties interested in 
 the matter have it. I do not say I have seen it. If that will 
 were produced, then Mr. Percival and his new missus would 
 be bundled neck and crop out of Curgenven, and you would be 
 reinstated as mistress of the house.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven drew a long breath and walked more up- 
 rightly than before, 'There is such a will ! It must be pro- 
 duced. I knew that Lambert had provided for us.' 
 
 ' If this will could be found it would crush Mrs. Percival, 
 who has married the new squire for his wealth and position, 
 and has rejected others, I dare say, for him.' 
 
 ' Where is this will 1 ' 
 
 ' You do not suppose that I have it 1 ' 
 
 1 Of couise not, or you would have proved it for us.' 
 
 ' I have been sounded relative to it by interested persons who 
 have the will. I btdieve that there is no likelihood of their 
 surrendering it unless well paid for so doing.' 
 
 'Oh, they shall be paid.' 
 
 'They will not be content with a small sum. What do you 
 now get out of the estate 1 Nothing.' 
 
 ' Nothing by law, I suppose ; but Percival has assured me 
 that I shall be treated liberally.' 
 
 • Yes, he will give you alms. But what if you could establish 
 your right and that of your child to Curgenven 1 What if, 
 when the bride arrives and expects to be received with bid Is 
 ringing, and triumphal arches, and cheers of u Welcome 1 "
 
 A SECOND DISAPPOINTMENT. 175 
 
 from the tenantry, and the path flower-strewn by the school- 
 children — the children of your class, madam — she finds, instead, 
 that she has not any right to descend at the steps, and that 
 you can slam the door in her face 1 ' 
 
 * I would give a great deal to be able to do this,' said Mrs. 
 Curgenven with heightened colour. 
 
 ' The difference to you, ma'am, would be that of four thou- 
 sand a year and nothing. Of course the parties who pretend 
 to have the will in their hands are well aware of that, and 
 therefore will not be content with less than a thousand pounds 
 for the testament.' 
 
 ' A thousand pounds ! Surely I can obtain a warrant or 
 something of the sort to force them to give up the will 1 ' 
 
 ' If you knew who they were.' 
 
 • But you know.' 
 
 ' No. I am approached through a third party. They are 
 cunning dogs, very cunning, and are aware of the danger. It 
 will require negotiation in a very circuitous manner to obtain 
 the document, so that no one may be compromised. But I 
 think it can be done for the sum I named.' 
 
 ' It is an impossible sum.' 
 
 'It might, perhaps, be arranged to be paid in two instal- 
 ments. I am not sure, I merely suggest this as possible.' 
 
 ' I don't believe it could be enforced. Such an agreement 
 must be illegal. It is blackmail.' 
 
 1 No doubt it is, but it is the only way by which this will 
 can be got back into our hands. There are great rascals in 
 the world, and one must at times submit to their rascality to 
 get at one's rights.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven considered. 
 
 It would be a satisfaction to be back in the Manor-House. 
 She had felt cramped and oppressed within the narrow walls 
 and under the low ceilings of the Parsonage. She had missed 
 her conservatories, her flowers and fruit, but, above all, the 
 deference that had been paid her as squiress and queen of Cur- 
 genven. A parlour-maid, a housemaid, and a cook formed the 
 establishment at the rectory, and she liked to be waited on 
 by liveried servant-men and a butler. She could not now call 
 out her carriage and pair, but must drive in a little buggy 
 with her father, and the clerical cob was a slow trotter that 
 walked up all the hills and down as well. But comforts, luxuries, 
 deferences weighed light with her against the overwhelming 
 desire to exclude that woman, Theresa, from the great house, 
 from occupying that position which had once been hers. She
 
 176 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 could not reconcile her mind to remaining in the place and 
 seeing this woman in the great house, reigning in her stead, 
 
 occujiing the manorial pew in the church. taking precedence of 
 her in social life, receiving letters addressed • Mrs. Curgenven,' 
 whereas she must sink to be the dowager .Mrs. Curgenven. 
 
 It really would be worth a thousand pounds to escape such 
 a miserable condition of affairs, such daily annoyance, such 
 bitter humiliation to her pride. Her father, she knew, would 
 stoop to be friendly to this person because of the subscriptions 
 to the parochial organization which he could not do without. 
 
 ' I suppose this will of which you speak,' said Jane, throwing 
 up her head, ' acknowledges my right to be Mrs. Curgenven of 
 Curgenven t ' 
 
 1 Well, no,' answered the agent with Rome hesitation ; 
 ' you see that would spoil everything. The will, I am told, 
 mentions you as Jane Pamphlet, commonly known as Jane 
 Curgenven.' 
 
 1 What ! proclaim me a — something I will not even name V 
 
 ' It need never be known.' 
 
 ' But if the will be proved it will be known.' 
 
 • It will not be talked of, you may be sure, by the officials 
 at Somerset House ; they have other things to think of.' 
 
 ' But any one may pay a shilling and read it — read in it 
 that I — I, Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven, have not been the 
 wife of Captain Curgenven, and that my child has no right 
 to her father's name. Heaven forbid ! There is no such will. 
 Such a will never could have been drawn up by my husband. 
 He dared not have done it. It is an impudent forgery ; it is 
 a forgery by designing, unprincipled persons who seek to make 
 capital out of my difficulties. No, in Heaven's name, not one 
 penny will I give for such a will. It is no genuine will ! 
 What a world of fraud and wickedness we inhabit ! Why, such 
 a document was designed to make out my husband to be one 
 of the greatest scoundrels that ever lived. He was thoughtless 
 and had his weaknesses, but he was a man of honour and a 
 gentleman. No, emphatically No. I will none of it.' 
 
 Mr. Physic drove back to the market town that day with his 
 mind not on his cob. 
 
 He had met with two rebulfs, first from Mr. Percival Cur- 
 genven and then, that day, from Mrs. Jane. Neither would 
 pay for what he had in his possession. Percival was ready to 
 accept the consequences should the will be produced. Jano 
 was unwilling to have it produced, even that it should secure 
 her a future of comfort and a position of dignity. Physic hail
 
 A SECOND DISAPPOINTMENT. 177 
 
 reckoned on Percival falling at once under the inducement he 
 held out to him of having the document destroyed that would 
 expel him from Curgenven. Physic had thought it well to let 
 the globe-trotter taste the pleasures of rank and wealth before 
 he warned him of the precariousness of his position. But, 
 Percival, rolling stone though he had been, improvident, with- 
 out tenacity of purpose, without persistency in any course, had 
 his own ideas of what was right and honourable, and there 
 was that in the manner in which he had cast from him the 
 solicitations of the agent which convinced the latter that the 
 squire was sincere in his resolve to do nothing which was not 
 above-board. 
 
 ' He's a fool,' muttered Physic ; ' he don't know which side 
 his bread is buttered ; or, I shouldn't wonder if he don't care 
 particular for butter at all, he's gone on so long on dry bread.' 
 
 As for Mrs. Jane Curgenven's objection, he could understand 
 that better than he could the refusal of Percival. 
 
 1 She's 'tarnation proud, that she is. She'd rather be Mrs. 
 Curgenven on twopence-ha'penny than take thousands and 
 have it known she was no missus at all.' 
 
 He drove on with his chin on his breast and his brows knit. 
 
 1 There's naught for it,' said he. ' I must try it on with the 
 new missus.' 
 
 Then he laughed. 
 
 ' Well, now,' said he, ' it was just hereabouts that she 
 caught me across the back of my hand with the reins. I'll 
 make her smart for the smart she then gave me. What's she 
 to become Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven 1 She's no better 
 than an adventuress. She'll have no scruples. She'll know 
 the vally of butter. She'll do everything she can not to have 
 it scraped off with a rusty knife.' 
 
 He shook his head. ' She's a deep 'un,' said he, 'to go and 
 refuse me, as she did, with such airs too — she who hadn't a 
 farthing to bless herself with ! But she had her eye on Per- 
 cival, and he has caught hers. A clever rogue ! But she 
 shall find me cleverer than she is. She thinks, does she, 
 that she's netted Curgenven, with its park and its mansion, 
 and the family plate and jewels, and the presentation of the 
 rectory, and four thousand a year, and moorland where there 
 be mines that, if properly managed, would double the income 1 
 She thinks she has got all that by making eyes and saying 
 " Yes," does she t Then, by Ginger, she's mistaken ! I have 
 to be reckoned with. If she will eat butter, she must pay for 
 it — and pay me.' 
 
 N
 
 178 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A RUINED HOME. 
 
 Justinian walked with flushed cheek to the rectory. His 
 line were dry, aud he felt feverish and reMlrs-. Ht< had not 
 slept much the previous night — according to his own account 
 not at all, hut that was an exaggeration iuto which others 
 liable to wakefulness fall. His father was to return that day, 
 bringing with him the new wife and mistress of Curgenven. 
 That she should be mistress of Curgenven concerned Justinian 
 little, but that his father should have taken to him a com- 
 panion who would thenceforth be nearer and dearer to him 
 than he, his son, was — that concerned the boy greatly, and 
 made him very unhappy. He had been with his father in all 
 occupations and amusements, had had hardly a companion of 
 his own age — certainly none whom he loved to be with so 
 much as his father, who had the carelessness and caprice of a 
 child in him in his mature years, who entered with zest into 
 all sports, and had as great an aversion as had the boy to all 
 serious work. 
 
 Justinian felt himself cast aside, and he was bitter at heart 
 against the woman who had supplanted him. If the truth 
 must be told, the lad had cried during the ni.sjht, but he 
 hardly admitted to himself that he had been guilty of such 
 weakness. 
 
 He could not amuse himself in the house or in the grounds. 
 On all sides were tokens of preparation for the reception of the 
 new Mrs. Curgenven — servants dusting and polishing, gar- 
 deners examining borders and weeding drives. So he went to 
 the rectory to divert his thoughts. 
 
 But Alice was engaged at her music with a master, and 
 must not be disturbed. Mrs. Jane Curgenven could not trust 
 herself to speak more than a few words with the lonely boy ; 
 she felt with him and for him, but had sufficient discretion 
 and good feeling not to give vent before him to what she 
 thought. The reverend the rector was due at the school to 
 teach the children nothing definite that could do them good 
 in this world or the next in the most sounding words. Mr. 
 Pamphlet flattered himself and informed all the world that no 
 l)issenter ever withdrew a child from the class for religious 
 teaching in the Curgenven school. This was not, however,
 
 A RUINED HOME. 179 
 
 altogether wonderful, as the teaching of the rector was so 
 absolutely colourless that not a prism could polarize it and 
 resolve it to definite tints. 
 
 Justinian, finding that he was not wanted or welcome at the 
 rectory, left it and wandered in the direction of the moors. 
 He would go there — away from every living man, he in the 
 sun and fret over his trouble alone. 
 
 But hardly had he entered the lane that led out on the 
 moors than he encountered a party of men armed with picks 
 and crowbars, headed by Mr. Physic, all, save their leader, 
 smoking and laughing and talking. 
 
 Physic addressed some passing observation to Justinian, 
 which he acknowledged with a nod, and then pushed on. He 
 disliked the agent, and the observation made was not one to 
 please him ; it referred to his ' new mamma.' 
 
 No sooner was the young fellow on the moor than his arm 
 was caught by Esther ; she was in great agitation, and her 
 eyes were full of tears. 
 
 'They've a-done it,' she said. ' Oh, Master Justinian! do'y 
 come now and see.' 
 
 ' What is it, Esther 1 ' 
 
 ' They've a been a-muzzling ' (knocking down) ' the house. 
 There was a core o' men here — a f oothy ' (daring) ' lot they 
 was. And vayther, he be like as one maazed.' 
 
 ' Your father back ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, I reckon, a' far as his body can be, but not his mind. 
 He ain't the same man. Come along, soas ! ' 
 
 Justinian found it hard to keep up with the girl, who ran 
 before him, and turned occasionally to see that he was follow- 
 ing, and to hurry him forward. 
 
 On reaching Tolmenna Justinian found that it was com- 
 pletely wrecked. The wretched furniture had been taken out 
 of the cottage and cast in a heap on the turf or piled up, and 
 then roof and walls had been destroyed by the workmen 
 engaged by Mr. Physic. The chimney stood, and some frag- 
 ments of wall ; but what had at one time been the room in 
 which the family had lived was reduced to an accumulation 
 of turf, rafter, and stone, thrown together. To restore the 
 cottage so as to be habitable was not possible. 
 
 Amidst his furniture sat, in a stupefied and listless mood, 
 the owner of the ruined cottage, the man who had once 
 knocked down Physic — himself a greater wreck than his 
 house. 
 
 The old moor-man, accustomed to spend his days abroad in
 
 180 MRS. CUROENVEN. 
 
 the open air, traversing the hillsides, unrestrained hy hedge 
 where there was not a road, not even a path, asking no man's 
 leave to go where he had a mind, consulting no will save his 
 own as to what he should do, at an advanced period of life had 
 been suddenly translated to a prison, and every condition of 
 f.xistence had been reversed. Unable to endure the change, 
 his mind had given way. He had been released and had 
 returned home with his brain benumbed, and if aught further 
 had been needed to complete bis stultification, it was to have 
 his house gutted and then destroyed before his eyes. He 
 made no resistance. He looked on with dazed eves, and where 
 he had sunk down when driven forth there he remained. 
 
 Meanwhile the old woman had gone oft in search of some 
 place of refuge. Warning enough had been given by Physic 
 that he intended to dislodge his tenants, but the threat had 
 been disregarded, and no provision made by them against the 
 day when they would be homeless. 
 
 With his wonted impetuosity, and his generous feelings 
 roused, Justinian went up to the old man, saying : ' It is a 
 shame ! I'll see my father about it.' 
 
 1 This bain't his land,' answered the moor-man. 
 
 ' No ; but he has plenty of houses. I will see that you 
 have one.' 
 
 Old Morideg shook his grey head. 
 
 ' I were born and bred on the moor,' said he. ' Your father 
 ha'n't got any houses there, aud I can't live where I'm not 
 free. No, young squire.' Again he shook his head. ' It be 
 my fault, it be. To every man comes once his chance, and if 
 he put it from him or take hold wi' half a heart, then he 
 never gets his chance again.' 
 
 ' But what chance came to you 1 ' 
 
 ' See,' said Morideg, extending his open hand to the ruins of 
 his house. ' Thickey house 'ud been standing as good as iver 
 if I'd 'a took my chance when the Lord gave him to me.' 
 After a pause and a blow against his grey head : ' Us be a 
 pass'l o' ungrateful creeturs, as is blind to what us ought to 
 do till it be too late. Thickey house — the Lord put the chance 
 bevoor me, and I didn't lay hold wi' both hands.' 
 
 ' But what chance did Heaven give you?' 
 
 ' To knack 'n on the head, stone dead, man,' answered 
 Morideg. 
 
 ' To knock whom 1 ' 
 
 ' Why, Lawyer Physic, for sure. Who else could I mean ? I 
 just gave 'n a faffery sort o' a clout, but 1 shu'd 'a given he a good
 
 A RUINED HOME. 181 
 
 blow as 'ud 'a skat his neddick ' (broken his neck), ' and then 
 thickey house 'ud 'a been standing still.' 
 
 'But.' said Justinian, startled at the self-reproach of the 
 old man, 'if you had killed Mr. Physic you'd have swung 
 for it.' 
 
 ' I ? Who'd ha' swung me ? ' 
 
 ' You'd have been caught and sent to prison, tried, and 
 hung.' 
 
 ' No, they'd ne'er 'a caught me on these moors.' 
 
 ' Well, anyhow, you could not have come back to the 
 house.' 
 
 ' Maybe. I don't deny that. But, then, some day or other 
 I mun leave 'n for good and all. It ain't I as matters, it's the 
 house. There's no house now for my old woman nor for 
 Esther. If I'd 'a done for Physic he'd not ha' been able to 'a 
 muzzled it all down from the strick to the plancheon ' (from 
 the thatching to the floor), 'as he hev a-done. And then 
 there'd be a home for Esther. But I never proper laid ho'd o' 
 the chance the Lord gev me. There's the unfort'nate thing, 
 and now I mun suffer for it.' He rubbed his head. ' Does Physic 
 think to find ball ' (open a mine) ' here where the old men never 
 made costeening ' (exploring) ' pits 1 Every one who ain't a fool 
 knows that there be no tin where no costeenius: and no 
 streaming hev been tried. The old men waren't fools. 
 He who goes after tin elsewhere, he's sure to go wrong.' 
 
 The wife came up. She had been to a farm under Tre- 
 wortha Tor, and had obtained permission for her to move with 
 Roger and her grand-daughter for a while into an old building 
 on the further side of the stream — a building long used as a 
 cowhouse or stable, which had a roof to keep the interior dry, 
 but was without window or chimney. Mrs. Morideg knew 
 very well that if she asked for anything it would not be 
 denied her, so great was the fear in which she was held ; at 
 the same time she was aware that she and her family would 
 be unwelcome tenants, and she had therefore asked for the use 
 of the shed only till such time as a fresh cottage could be 
 erected to accommodate her party and contain her few sticks 
 of furniture. 
 
 Justinian again offered one of his father's cottages, but 
 the Moridegs refused it again. They could not breathe, they 
 could not be happy, in the midst of hedges, among trees, on 
 cultivated land. Then he cheerfully and good-humouredly 
 assisted them in the transport of their goods. The farmer of 
 Trewortha had sent some of his men and a rude cart, but no
 
 182 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 crockery could be placed on wheels where there was not a road, 
 only a track over the moor, and where the cart bounced and 
 lurched at every moment in such a manner that it was 
 wondrous that it did not itself go to pieces. 
 
 The place fixed on by Mrs. Morideg for a temporary dwell- 
 ing was further removed from civilization, deeper in the depths 
 of the wilderness than where the old but had stood. There is a 
 little stream culled the Withy Brook that rises in a broad 
 basin under the Cheesewring and Boarrah Tors, wild, but 
 devoid of remarkable beauty. But a ridge of granite runs out 
 from the east and contracts the valley, and on passing this a 
 scene of singular desolation and beauty is disclosed. Kilmar, 
 a granite mountain of noble proportions, towers up in queenly 
 majesty above a wide marsh into which the Withy Brook and 
 several other streams from converging glens plunge and 
 disappear. The grey level surface of the marsh forms a 
 triangle and covers what was once a lake, and is now impas- 
 sable by the foot of man. Finally, the united streams break 
 their way over a step of granite, and fall in cascade into the 
 river Lynher. Tradition says that a city (Tresillan) stood at 
 the margin of the choked lake, that was a market town before 
 Launceston and Liskeard were other than hreezy down ; and, 
 strange to say, the banks and slopes from the hills are strewn 
 with ruins of ancient dwellings and enclosures of unknown age, 
 the remains of an unknown people whose Hint weapons are 
 turned up by the spade and share wherever a farmer extends 
 the area of cultivated land. 
 
 1 Do you see ? ' said Esther, pointing to the wild expanse ; 
 ' now you can understand what vayther and I said, as how 
 none could ever catch him or me if us chose to go on the 
 moors, and the police were after us. Why, I reckon there's 
 none but I as know how to cross Trewortha and Tresillan 
 marshes. There's but one way, and there's not another could 
 do it. If he tried he'd go in and never rise again. But none 
 would be that venturesome to try it.' 
 
 The wind was blowing from the south-east. The two 
 young people stood on high ground, looking down on the 
 desolate surface of the marsh. 
 
 'Hark ! ' said Esther. 'I reckon I hear bells. For sure it 
 be the Curgenven bells.' 
 
 Justinian's heart contracted. 
 
 'My father has come borne,' he said, ' bringing with him a 
 new mother for me, and 1 feel like one banished from home — 
 much as do you, Esther.'
 
 TAKE OARE! 183 
 
 The tears rose in Justinian's eyes, and gall embittered his 
 heart. He bit his fingers to conceal the tremor of his lips, 
 and then waving one hand bade Esther begone, with the 
 promise that he would follow in a few minutes. 
 
 She accepted the dismissal and ran down the hill. She was 
 wanted in her new home. 
 
 If it had not been that his father was bringing a new wife 
 with him to Curgenven, Justinian would have been there to 
 welcome him — nay, he would have run along the road to fore- 
 stall his arrival. But now, as the boy said to himself, he 
 would not be required. His father would not miss him. He 
 would be so full of care and love for this woman that he 
 would have no thought to spare for his son. He would show 
 her the house, the gallery with the paintings and cabinets and 
 tapestry, the family portraits, the conservatory, the garden. 
 No, Justinian believed he would not be missed ; if his father 
 gave him a thought it would be mixed with self-congratulations 
 that the lad was not about the place when he brought home 
 his bride. 
 
 1 1 hate that woman,' muttered he, 'and so does Aunt Jane. 
 I shan't go home till nightfall, and then I'll just creep up to 
 my room and be seen of none. I don't want to meet her. 
 And — I'll go to school or college, or to sea — anywhere to be 
 away from what is no longer a home to me.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 TAKE CARE ! 
 
 The day was rapidly closing in. The tidings that the Tol- 
 menna cottage had been unroofed and dismantled by Physic 
 and a party of workmen had spread through the neighbourhood. 
 Physic was no favourite, although the Moridegs were objects 
 of mistrust rather than of favour, yet the fact that they were 
 driven out of home — a home that had been theirs for three 
 generations, a house that had been built by Roger's father — 
 roused general sympathy, and when work was over many 
 labourers came to volunteer their assistance to remove 
 furniture and make habitable the cattle-shed that had been
 
 184 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 given up to the family for a temporary shelter. Happily no 
 bullocks had been housed in the shed for a couple of years, so 
 th.it it was in passably clean condition. But it was deficient 
 in chimney, and the smoke escaped as best it could, and where 
 it could. Fern and moss were collected and littered on the 
 floor, and with the skill and ingenuity only possessed by men 
 experienced to move great masses of stone, a slap of granite was 
 placed on rollers, and, with crowbars, was easily run in at the 
 door and planted as a hearth. 
 
 Good-humour, readiness to help, and mirth prevailed ; even 
 old Roger was roused out of his lethargy to share in the work 
 of making the place habitable, and to loudly lament that his 
 opportunity had been lost or neglected. On this string he 
 harped incessantly; it was his one tune. 
 
 ' Providence her gave us a chance, and us ungrateful 
 creatures puts it aside. If I'd a-knacked Physic on the head 
 wi' a stone, or skat his neddick wi' a stick, then Tolmenna 'ud 
 'a been staielin' now, and 'ud 'a stood on for ages for Esther 
 and her childer-vean ' (little children). 
 
 ' Joe,' said a workman to his fellow, ' I wouldn't be old Physic 
 in a dark lane — nay, anywhere, when Uncle Roger be about wi' 
 his gun, would you 1 ' 
 
 ' T reckon,' answered the man addressed, • Physic will be going 
 a bit too far some day, as he'll find to his cost.' 
 
 ' Happen as will, and who'll be sorry ? ' observed the first. 
 
 The cottage was still without a window, for the farmer who 
 owned the ' linney ' objected to a hole being knocked through 
 the walls. ' For sure,' said he, ' if you begin to knock a hole, 
 all the walls '11 follow.' And Mrs. Morideg observed that none 
 was needed. Sufficient light entered through the door for 
 cooking purposes, and 'for what else, soas ! can volks want 
 
 light r 
 
 Evening had close. 1, but not darknes, for the moon was at 
 full and shone over the moors, lighting them almost as clear as 
 day, turning the grey moss of Trewortha Marsh into a sheet of 
 silver, so that it looked as if it had reverted to its ancient 
 condition of lake. Far away on a great bank of moor the moon 
 lit up a block of granite that went by the name of the ' Grey 
 Mare,' and made of it as much a landmark by night as by day. 
 One little orange star shone on the moorside from a lone cottage 
 beyond the marsh (Colquite), where lived a solitary squatter. 
 
 The number of men had increased about the hovel, and a few 
 women from the nearest farm and its cottages had also come to 
 the spot to assist, or to comment on the proceedings. Justinian
 
 TAKE CARE! 185 
 
 signed to Esther to accompany him to a distance from the 
 throng. 
 
 ' I am hungry,' said he. ' I have been working bard, and 
 have been without food several hours. So have you, and I do 
 not fancy the old folks have much provision. Come with me 
 to "The Chough," Mrs. Penwarden will help. I'll get her to 
 pack a basket with bread and cheese, and any cold meat she 
 can spare ; but first of all we must have something to eat 
 ourselves, or we shall faint. I wish,' said Justinian, throwing 
 up his head, • that I hadn't spent all the money my father left 
 me, or I would have rewarded the men all round for their help 
 to -day.' 
 
 Esther accompanied him after she had searched for, and 
 found, a basket that would serve her purpose among the goods 
 transferred from Tolmenna. 
 
 There was frost in the air. The sky was clear, of silvery 
 blue-grey, with here and there a suspicion of stars sparkling, 
 then vanishing ; on the granite-serrated crest of Kilmar a faint 
 halo rested, the reflex of the western sky still flushing where 
 the sun had gone down beyond Scilly. A plover uttered its 
 plaintive cry at intervals. No sound of murmuring water 
 reached the ear, as every stream was smothered in Trewortha 
 Marsh. 
 
 Esther, whose rude nature, because rude, was responsive to 
 every change in the scenery and atmospheric variation, but 
 who, from her rudeness, could not express her sense of the 
 beauty and solemnity of the scene by any expletives and 
 exclamations, broke out into legend. ' They do say,' said she, 
 ' that is, the ou'd folks, as there was a city over yonder as 
 they ca'd Tresillan. There were a palace there, and a king, 
 wi' a crown o' gould ; ay! he wor a wicked sort o' man wi' no 
 love for the poor in him. And they was a-keeping feast i' 
 Tresillan. 'Twere the day o' the foundin' o' this city, and 
 the king and all his great men and grand ladies wor sitting 
 to table eatin' and driukin' off dishes o' red gowld. Then 
 there came to the hall a poor beggar-man a' i' rags, and he 
 went up to the table and for the love o' God he asked as the 
 king 'ud g'ie him a bit o' the meat off the dish. But the king 
 he laughed, and sez he : " No, man, I want all for the lords 
 and the ladies." Then he up an' asked for the bones as they 
 had a' picked. " No, man," sez the king, " I want they for 
 the dogs." Then the beggar-man he said as how he were nigh 
 on dead wi' hunger, and he asked if the king 'ud gi'e him the 
 gravy i' the dish. But the king he said, sez he : " Man, that
 
 186 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 I want for the zoppin' o' my bread." "Then," sez the beggar- 
 man, " g'ie me some o' thickey tliere crumbs you'm a-crumlin' 
 in your fingers." "For sure I wi'n't," said the king; "I 
 want they to feed the pigeons on the roof." Sure ho said it. 
 Then the beggar-man made bowlder still, and he went right 
 on end up to the table, and sez he : " Gi'e me the dish." 
 Thereat, I reckon, there rose a brave laugh from all the lords 
 and ladies, for the dish here were o' red, red gowld. Hut the 
 king, he were that angered, he up wi' the dish and he throwed 
 her at the beggar-man, and the ou'd man fell down wi' the 
 blood runnin' from his head. And afore he died he ill-wished 
 the king and his castle, and his lords and ladies and servants 
 all, and all the wicked city, that her shu'd go down un'er- 
 grund, and be a marsh for ever.' 
 
 ' You don't believe such rubbish, surely?' 
 
 1 Hearken to the rest. Then the ou'd volks says that ever 
 after there groweth i' the marsh a red sort o' a moss like 
 blid' (blood), 'and there run'th a trickle o' ridom water like blid, 
 and so it ever will in testimony to the same. I've zeed 'u. 
 I've zeed 'n scoores o' times.' 
 
 1 It's all nonsense,' said Justinian. 
 
 'You mun say so. But it's comfort, it be, to us poor folk 
 to know that an ill-wish can do all that, when us be dringed 
 up and trod down by the rich and mighty — such as by thickey 
 king, and such as by Lawyer Physic. For sure sartain, if the 
 ou'd beggar cou'd ill-wish the king and all the city and sink 
 'em in the marsh, my gran'mother can ill-wish and bring 
 down into the dust that Lawyer Physic ; and her'll do it too 
 — no mistake. The Lord haan't gi'en us poor folk much, but 
 he's gi'en us that — and us can do it — leastways gran'mother 
 can, and her will.' After a few steps in silence, Esther 
 continued : ' Folks do say that the red blid '11 rin, and the red 
 moss stained in the blid '11 grow, till the Day o' Judgment, 
 and then the city an' the king an' a' will come up out o' the 
 marsh, an' then the ou'd beggar-man '11 hand up the dish and 
 show his cracken crown and ask for judgment on the king, 
 but the king '11 argie an' say he's been down in the meshes 
 for hundreds o' hundreds o' years wi' his mouth full of ven 
 water, and if that ain't judgment enough, then some volks be 
 onraysonable, and I don't know nothing more about it.' 
 
 'These are old wives' tales,' said Justinian, 'and I don't 
 heed them a bit. Let us talk of something else. I'm sorry 
 to have to go to " The ( 'hough " to get what is wanted, when 
 I might go to Curgenven and take thence what u a hundred
 
 TAKE CARE! 187 
 
 times better, but I have my reasons.' He shrugged his 
 shoulders and swung bis arms in a devil-may-care fashion, and 
 continued, talking more to himself than to his companion : 
 ' My father has gone and got married, and he's old enough to 
 know better. I don't approve of these goings-on. If he'd 
 had as much good feeling as you could pack into the heart of 
 a mouse he'd have consulted me first. It's been a sneaking 
 proceeding all through, and against my principles ; he should 
 have told me like a man what rigs he was up to, and looked 
 me in the face, and not have shammed he was off to Scotland 
 to see if he could find a good salmon river to hire for next 
 spring. Salmon river indeed ! I'll go home whistling with 
 my hands in my pockets, as if I didn't care whether he 
 brought home one wife or five hundred, like Solomon. I'll let 
 him understand that I'll not be mothered by any of them.' 
 
 He talked with a swagger to hide his own uneasiness and 
 distress — a distress that broke out in his heart whenever his 
 mind recurred to home. He loved his father so deeply that 
 he could not endure that there should be another intruded to 
 share their love, and probably rob him of the best portion. 
 As he thus spoke in braggart fashion he had forgotten the 
 girl at his side, and thought only of himself and his father. 
 But he came out of the lane upon the open space where stood 
 a tavern, ' The Chough,' frequented by a few quarry and moor 
 men, and by an occasional labourer from one of the farms. 
 None of the usual guests were there this evening ; all were 
 engaged in assisting old Roger Morideg into his new cottage, 
 or were looking on and passing their comments or giving their 
 advice. 
 
 Justinian went in at the door and entered the low room 
 that was lighted by a pendant oil lamp. He called to the 
 landlady imperiously, told her what he wanted, and asked for 
 some refreshment as speedily as it could be prepared. Then 
 he threw himself on a bench and directed Esther to sit against 
 the wall on the inside of the table opposite him. 
 
 Mrs. Penwarden was a tenant of the Curgenven estate, and 
 willing to oblige. She was a hale, honest woman, with fresh 
 colour, who could not only hold her own with her customers, 
 but could turn out a disorderly fellow who had drunk too 
 much and had become quarrelsome. 
 
 She looked hard at Esther, who had taken the place indi- 
 cated, and had planted her bare elbows on the table and 
 rested her chin in her palms. The light from the pendant 
 lamp fell over her tumbled red hair and made dark shadows
 
 188 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 under her brows and a shadp beneath the high and prominent 
 cheekbones. A handsome, daring girl she seemed, whose only 
 law was her own will, and whose will was as free, as vagrant, 
 and at times as furious as the winds that swept tho moor. 
 
 ' I'll do you a rasher o' bacon and sonic egirs,' said Mrs. 
 Penwarden, 'if you can wait a quarter of an hour.' 
 
 'Ay, do. Esther and I have eaten nothing. But first 
 bring us some shandygaff to cool our fiery throats.' 
 
 ' Have the old folks got in fittydike 1 ' asked the hostess. 
 
 'Pretty well,' answered Justinian. 'There are a score of 
 helpers now. It was just at first there were none.' 
 
 Presently, when he could hear the fizzing on the fire of the 
 broiling ham, Justinian rose and left the inn, saying that he 
 would go and listen whether the ringers had tired of making 
 fools of themselves, or whether they were still sounding a 
 peal. ' I'll not go home,' said he, ' till those confounded bell^ 
 have done.' 
 
 Whilst Justinian was intent listening to hear whether the 
 silence were due to a pause or to the ringers having left their 
 work, Mrs. Penwarden entered the room and threw a cloth 
 over the table with a 'By your leave, Esther. Please lift 
 them elbows a minute.' Then, leaning across the table, she 
 said in a confidential tone : ' Esther, my dear, take care of 
 yourself, and don't'y be made a fool of, like your mother.' 
 
 ' What of my mother 1 ' 
 
 ' It's well meant, my dear,' said the good woman, seating 
 herself in the place vacated by Justinian, ' so take it right 
 from me. It don't seem fitty that you — the such as you, a 
 Morideg — should be runnin' wild day and night wi' the young 
 squire, and he a Curgenven.' 
 
 'Why not?' 
 
 ' Why not, soas? ' repeated Mrs. Penwarden with a Cornish 
 interjection. ' For the best o' good reasons. If your mother 
 had took a little more care of herself, you'd not be Esther 
 Morideg, but be ca'd after your father and have him to look 
 after you. Don't you be made a fool of for your own sake — 
 no, nor yet for the young squire's sake, neither. He's a good 
 young chap, but if ort were to come wrong 'twixt you and he 
 'twould be the worst as could hap to 'n for ever after. 
 'Twould be as a black blot again' his name, and nobody would 
 say a word to 'n, and come nigh Curgenven.' 
 
 The girl looked steadily into the landlady's eyes. 'You 
 know nort,' she said. 'He be bound to Miss Alice at the 
 Tolmenna stone, that's fact.'
 
 TAKE CARE! 189 
 
 ' No, my dear, don't'y think it. If Miss Alice was to hear 
 what folks say — and they be beginning to talk already, so I 
 bid'y be careful — her'd have nothing more to say to him.' 
 
 1 Folks never say nothing.' 
 
 ' Yes, they do ; not much, but they be screwing up their 
 eyes wi' looking at you both, and wondering what will come 
 of it all. Do'y think they don't know where he's off to when 
 he goes out on the moor 1 and a score o' times, when he's not 
 going your way, folks think he is. Take you care, Esther. 
 Your mother may have listened to some fine young gentleman 
 — and he left her and a chil-vean, that is, wi' you — and you're 
 Esther Morideg only.' 
 
 ' What is that 1 ' asked Justinian, entering. But he did 
 not wait to have his question answered ; he threw himself on 
 the bench and said : ' I believe they're tired at last. Now, 
 Mrs. Pen warden, is the rasher ready 1 ' Justinian found 
 Esther in no humour to eat or to speak. He insisted on her 
 taking something, but he could hardly extract a word from 
 her. She answered in monosyllables, and sat with her cheek 
 resting in one hand and the other arm folded across her 
 bosom. She had tucked up her short sleeves whilst at work, 
 and had not lowered them ; Justinian could not fail to observe 
 and admii'e the beautiful moulding of her arms thus exposed. 
 And now that her face was inclined, the light from above 
 produced less hard shadows, it fell over her rounded cheek, 
 and kindled her hair of copper sheen. By daylight the face 
 lacked delicacy of texture in complexion and evenness of 
 colour, but in the light from the lamp all such imperfections 
 were lost, and Justinian found himself looking with admira- 
 tion at Esther's beauty. She had her little finger curled over 
 her lower lip ; it was between her teeth, and she was biting 
 it. He looked down abashed when he saw that her eyes were 
 intently studying him. 
 
 When the basket was packed, Justinian and Esther rose, 
 and he said : 'I'll go with you part way.' 
 
 ' Nay ; I can find my own road, thanky.' 
 
 ' But I wish to. I shall carry the basket as far as the cross, 
 where our paths separate. You'll not refuse me that, Esther 1 ' 
 
 She made no reply, and they went forth into the moonlight. 
 The Curgenven woods lay below, dark as ink in the silvered 
 landscape, and the moonbeams were reflected as a star from 
 the glass of the conservatory. The house itself could not be 
 seen. Its back was towards the rising ground, and it was 
 banked up in rear by noble beeches and sycamores.
 
 190 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Justinian walked in silence beside Esther through the lane 
 which after about a mile led out upou the moor. The 
 solemnity of the night, or some influence which neither under- 
 stood, weighed on both, and made them indisposed to speak. 
 They drew in with long breaths the pure air, and the moon 
 cast their shadows in fantastic forms on the hedges of granite 
 blocks tlmt skirted their way. 
 
 Presently they reached an ancient cross of moorstone, rudely 
 cut, one of the many similar monuments that abound in Corn- 
 wall. It marked a point where lanes diverged at the edge of 
 the common. There Esther stood still. Justinian put down 
 the basket and took both her hands in his. For a moment or 
 two he stood there without speaking, a warm wave rushing 
 through all his veins. Then he drew her towards him and 
 kissed her lips. 
 
 Instantly she thrust him away. ' No ! ' she said. ' Not me — 
 Alice.' 
 
 Her bosom heaved, and she gasped for breath. 
 
 ' No ! ' she said, and she waved both hands before her, as 
 though weaving some spell in the air. ' No. I wish you well ! 
 That is all. I wish you well ! ' Then she stooped, took up 
 the basket and fled running, tripping over hummocks of furze, 
 then relaxing her pace, and the tears coursed down her cheeks 
 in the moonlight. 
 
 Justinian turned when she had disappeared over the hill, 
 and uttered an exclamation. He saw his father 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 a father's heart. 
 
 Tiie carriage that brought to Curgenven the newly married 
 pair passed under a triumphal arch that bore the inscription 
 ' Welcome ' The arch had been set up by order of Mr. Physic, 
 and without zeal by the gardener, who had received notice to 
 quit. The woman at the lodge curtsied, but that was one of the 
 conditions on which she occupied the cottage rent free. The 
 five church bells were ringing, for the men who pulled the ropes 
 expected to receive four shillings apiece for their trouble, as 
 well as drink and cake.
 
 A FATHER'S HEABT. 191 
 
 A few villagers along the road to Curgenven had come to 
 their doors and looked at the carriage as it rolled by, but had 
 not waved handkerchiefs and cheered ; had, in fact, exhibited 
 no particular marks of interest in, and sympathy with, the 
 event. For Mr. Physic had forgotten to remind the squire that 
 the tenantry expected on such an occasion to be fed with roast 
 beef, and their thirsty throats moistened with beer, on the 
 terrace or in the avenue, at the expense of the lord of the 
 manor. Mr. Percival had not thought of such a thing, not 
 having been reared in the position of squire. Consequently, 
 the general opinion of the people of Curgenven was that the 
 new squire was ' no gentleman.' 
 
 Percival, in ignorance of the dissatisfaction with which he 
 was regarded, yet wondei'ing somewhat at the lack of 
 enthusiasm with which he and his bride were received, had 
 his head out of the carriage-window. 
 
 ' I wonder where he is 1 ' he asked. ' Theresa, look out on 
 your side. I made sure he would have ridden to meet us, and 
 have trotted back at our side. There he is — no, it is the 
 butcher's boy. Do you fancy that he may have been walking, 
 and we have whirled past without observing him 1 ' 
 
 ' He has not been on my side of the road,' answered Mrs. 
 Curgenven. 
 
 ' I hope the dear fellow is not unwell,' said Percival, with- 
 drawing his head. ' But it is odd. It is unprecedented. I 
 counted on his coming to meet us.' Then, after a little rumina- 
 tion, ' Surely he cannot have forgotten the day. He is thought- 
 less — as I have ever been.' 
 
 ' There are the bells to remind him,' said Theresa. 
 
 I Ah ! but he is a scatter brain. He may think the ringers 
 are practising.' 
 
 The carriage drew up at the main entrance to the Manor- 
 House, and when Percival hastily worked at the carriage-door 
 handle to get it open that he might dash out in quest of 
 Justinian, he saw before him only Mr. Physic with a bouquet 
 of hothouse flowers in his hand, and behind him the new 
 domestics he had engaged in the place of those who had taken 
 themselves off. 
 
 I I say, Physic, where is my boy ? ' 
 
 Percival had jumped out of the carriage and run up the 
 steps, forgetful of his wife, whom he left to the groom to assist 
 to dismount. 
 
 ' On the moors, I fancy, sir.' 
 
 * He is not ill I '
 
 192 Ml;s. CUKGENYEN. 
 
 'Oh dear no ; in rude health. 1 
 
 ' 'Dion why is he not here I 
 
 Physic laughed, ami then, passing Mr. Percival, stepped to 
 Theresa, offered her the bouquet, and >;iid with a bow and 
 smile, ' Allow me to welcome to her home at last, Mrs. Cur- 
 genven of Curgenven.' 
 
 Mr. Penival having reached the hall, found Bathsheba, 
 and at once shook her hand and asked : ' I say, Bath, where 
 is Master Justin ? ' 
 
 The housekeeper replied that she thought Justinian had 
 gone to the rectory, and then with the forwardness of an old 
 servant, said, ' Go and see to the lady, master ; the young 
 gentleman will take care of himself.' 
 
 Percival accepted the admonition, and hastened to show 
 more attention to his wife. He conducted her into the hall, 
 and showed her up-stairs to her room. Then he ran off to the 
 parsonage to inquire after his son. ' There will be time 
 enough before Theresa is ready for something to eat.' 
 
 Percival arrived at the rectory, and rang the front door 
 bell. The maid answered, and he inquired if Justinian 
 were there. She believed not, but would go and inquire. 
 Then Jane Curgenven, hearing the voice of Percival in the 
 hall as she was descending the stairs, came to him and wel- 
 comed him graciously. She hoped he was well, and that 
 the fresh pure air of Scotland had done him good ; that he 
 had been able to secure a river for salrnon-hshing for the 
 ensuing season. No —Justinian was not at the parsonage. 
 He had been there, but had gone away again. She (Jane) 
 believed that he had come to persuade Alice to go a ride 
 with him, but she had been detained by her music-lesson, so 
 that Justinian had been constrained to go without her. 
 
 Would Percival come in 1 Jane was dying to hear about 
 her relatives at Drumduskie. What did he think of the place? 
 Was he not charmed with the associations? How did he 
 think the girls were looking] And Drumduskie himself; 
 was he as much of a cockney as ever 1 ? It was the fashion of 
 her family, out of Scotland, to disparage Mr. Boxholder. 
 
 Percival Curgenven would not sit down. He replied that 
 he was going to dine, but that he was impatient to see his 
 son, who carelessly, and without proper consideration, had 
 absented himself. Ho asked how the boy was. 
 
 'Oh,' said Jane, 'he is flourishing. I cannot say that he 
 shows much inclination for anything save sport. You really, 
 Percival, must put him through the mill. With his position
 
 A FATHER'S HEART. 193 
 
 he must acquire the rudiments of scholarship. Surely you 
 can spare us a few minutes. I am so anxious to learn your 
 opinion of beautiful Drumduskie, and to hear whether any 
 alterations have been made in the place. I wish you had 
 seen it in spring. You had better come in. No ! I don't 
 think you are looking quite yourself. Tired with the journey ? 
 Well, it is a long way from town, and the trains do not always 
 fit at Plymouth. It is vexatious to have to wait there when 
 one is tix-ed.' 
 
 Percival left the rectory with an oppression on his heart. 
 Not by a word had Jane alluded to his wife. She had ignored 
 his marriage, had addressed him as though he stood on the 
 old footing, and no such person as Theresa had appeared at 
 Curgenven to change relations. When he was back at the 
 great house he found Physic there still ; the agent wished to 
 know whether Percival were satisfied with what had been 
 done, and whether his services were further required. 
 
 ' You had best stay and dine with us,' said Mr. Cur- 
 genven. ' Only en famille, of course, and no dressing. My 
 wife and I are both tired and out of spirits, so you can 
 enliven us. I wish Justinian were here. He is not at the 
 parsonage.' 
 
 'No, sir,' said the agent; ' I informed you I had met him 
 going to the moor.' 
 
 ' Did you 1 I forgot. What is he gone there for ? ' 
 
 Physic laughed. Something in the tone of his laugh jarred 
 the feelings of Percival, and he looked into his face. 
 
 1 What do you mean, Physic 1 ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, now you ask me, I may as well tell you. The 
 young fellow goes a great deal too often to the Moridegs'.' 
 
 ' Oh, that old Roger will do him no harm.' 
 
 ' No ; not Roger, though he is a jail-bird.' 
 
 ' You made him a jail-bird, Physic, I suppose. He was a 
 harmless enough old fellow. As for his wife, she's a witch, 
 but I don't fear her and her evil eye.' 
 
 ' The young one's witchcraft is the most dangerous, and a 
 loving eye is more mischievous than an evil one.' 
 
 ' What do you mean, Physic ] ' 
 
 ' I only repeat what I have heard. Mr. Justinian goes to 
 the Tolmenna hut a great deal. Now I have had that pulled 
 down, as it is on a property I have bought, and I suppose the 
 Moridegs are all over the place, without a home to shelter 
 them. There is no saying what your son may be doing in his 
 chivalry to help them.' 
 

 
 194 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 'Stuff! I'll hear nothing of this,' said Pereival Curgenven 
 irritably. 'You shall stay for dinner, but enough of this 
 BC&ndal. I don't believe a word.' 
 
 However, the hint had lodged like a barbed arrow in the 
 heart of the father, and had redoubled his uneasiness. The 
 day had closed in, and still Justinian had not appeared. 
 
 When Pereival had returned to the house, he ran up-stairs 
 to wash his hands and change his coat for dinner, and had met 
 his wife on the stairs descending. She looked pale and some- 
 what weary, but she had a smile on her lips. She had dressed 
 hastily, put a flower in her bosom and another in her dark 
 hair of so deep a crimson that it showed her pallor. She 
 extended her arms to meet her husband. 
 
 ' Percy,' said she, ' you have not welcomed me home.' 
 
 He coloured and stammered. 
 
 ' Really, dear Theresa, I am ashamed. It is not my fault ; 
 that confounded monkey, Justin, is to blame. Fancy that 
 fellow running off to the moors when his father comes home. 
 It is too bad, and it has upset me.' 
 
 She put up her hands, drew his face down to hers, and 
 gently caressing his cheek, said, ' Of course I forgive you. 
 How could I do other — when you have given me a home, 
 oh, and such a home ! Dear ! I have taken my candle and 
 been round it.' Then she kissed him, and passed on the stairs 
 continuing her descent. 
 
 The gong sounded for dinner whilst Pereival was changing 
 his boots. He came down as quickly as he could, and found 
 his wife and Physic in the drawing-room awaiting him. 
 During the meal he left the agent to carry on the convers- 
 ation with Theresa. He was absent, listening for the foot of 
 his son in the hall, and wondering that he did not return. If 
 he joined in the conversation it was for but a moment, and 
 then his mind wearied of whatever topic was discussed, and 
 reverted to Justinian. He imagined that some accident might 
 have befallen him, and then the hint thrown out by Physic 
 disturbed him in no less degree. 
 
 He caught Theresa's eye repeatedly resting on him. She 
 knew what was troubling his thoughts, and destroying his zest 
 for his dinner, for his wine, for the talk about the place and 
 its affairs, the neighbourhood, and the petty incidents that 
 had occurred during his brief absence. 
 
 At length, when the dessert was laid, he stood up, the 
 anxiety had become unendurable, and he asked Theresa and 
 Physic to excuse him, he must go and look for Justinian.
 
 A FATHER'S HEART. 195 
 
 ' Let me go,' said the agent. • I dare be sworn I know 
 where to find him.' 
 
 ' No,' said Percival hastily, and his brow contracted. ' No, 
 Physic, you remain here and amuse Mrs. Curgenven ; I must 
 go after the truant myself. You will not be vexed with me, 
 Theresa, will you 1 ' 
 
 'No, dear, assuredly not.' 
 
 He went forth into the beautiful moonlit night, and, as we 
 have seen, by accident took the right instead of the wrong 
 lane that led forth upon the moor. The lanes that conducted 
 to the waste were all provided with gates to prevent the wild 
 ponies and cattle from straying into cultivated land and losing 
 themselves among the roads. One of these gated Lines led by 
 1 The Chough,' and at ' The Chough ' he chanced to inquire, 
 and thus learned that Justinian had gone part way to 
 Trewortha with the girl Morideg. He followed, and arrived 
 at the cross just as the young couple parted. 
 
 ' Justin, my boy ! What is the meaning of this ? ' 
 
 The lad was taken aback, and did not at once reply. 
 
 ' Justin, I don't like this. Why are you away from home, 
 and out and rambling the lanes with a common village girl 1 ' 
 
 ' She is not and never was a village girl,' answered Justinian, 
 recovering himself ; ' she is a wild moor colt, that is all. What 
 have you against her?' 
 
 ' Nothing. I have something against you. It is not right 
 for you ' 
 
 ' Father, honi soit qui mal y peme. The Moridegs have been 
 bundled neck and crop out of their house by that rascal Physic 
 — I wonder why you employ him ! — and I have been helping 
 to house the homeless — a work of mercy, father.' 
 
 ' It does not look well.' 
 
 ' Alice likes her, so do I, and she loves us both, for on my 
 honour, I believe we are the only people in the world who care 
 for her, beside old Roger and her grandmother.' 
 
 ' Well, well ! — more of this another time. I have another 
 crow to pluck with you.' 
 
 Justinian guessed what his father meant. He was silent for 
 a minute or two, walking beside him. Then he said abruptly : 
 • It's no good your asking me to do it. I cannot call her my 
 mother, and I won't. I love my own dear mother — and love 
 to hear you talk of her, and tell how good she was. I can't 
 take this strange woman into my heart, as you have done.' 
 
 ' I do not ask you to do that,' said Mr. Curgenven, standing 
 still and looking in the face of the tall, handsome boy, lit by
 
 196 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 the full lustre of the moon. And as ho looked he saw in the 
 eyes, in the brow, in all the upper part of the face, the like- 
 ness to his first wife. Percival Curgenven heaved a sigh. 
 ' No, Justin, I do not ask you not to continue to love, I do 
 not wish you for a moment to forget your dear dead mother. 
 T do not forget her, I do not cease to love her. But, my boy, 
 you are old enough to know that such an establishment as 
 Curgenven cannot be managed by old Bathsheba. She has 
 kicked over the caldron already. I must have some one 
 competent to manage. I do not ask you to love my present 
 wife in any degree as you do your own dead mother, but 
 you must honour her as you regard me.' 
 
 I Yes, father,' said Justinian, subdued, ' I will do my best. 
 Do you think she really cares for you, or has only taken you 
 for your money 1 ' 
 
 I I am sure she loves me.' 
 
 1 If she is good to you, I shall respect her. There — I promise 
 that.' 
 
 ' Do you consider, my boy,' continued Mr. Curgenven, ' that 
 you have given me great pain to-day 1 ' 
 
 1 How so ? ' 
 
 ' In absenting yourself on my arrival. It was a slight to 
 my wife, and a cruel blow to me. You little know how you 
 have hurt me.' 
 
 ■ Father ! ' 
 
 The lad threw his arms round Mr. Curgenven's neck. ' I 
 am sorry. I was wrong ; I was very wrong.' 
 
 • And now — one word, Justin, more. You say that your 
 love is to your mother. Let the remembrance of her accompany 
 you always when you are with that girl Esther.' 
 
 The lad squeezed his father's hand. He looked up in his 
 father's face and said, 'I was foolish. For one moment a 
 warmer thought came over me than I ought to have held, and 
 I kissed her. I will not do it again. I promise you, father- 
 by my thoughts and love of my mother.'
 
 A MENACED HOME. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A MENACED HOME. 
 
 When Percival left the dining-room, he begged Physic to 
 excuse him, and remain with the wine as long as he liked. 
 Mrs. Curgenven withdrew to the drawing-room. There the 
 candles had been lighted in sconces on the wall, and a brisk 
 bright fire was burning in the grate. 
 
 Theresa sank into an arm-chair before the fire. 
 
 The drawing-room was singularly beautiful ; it was in white 
 and gold, with a painted ceiling, and with charming Watteau 
 subjects in panels on the walls. The room was lofty, curtains 
 and furniture of turquoise-blue silk. Choice flowers from the 
 greenhouse were arranged in every available vase and glass, 
 and exhaled a delicate fragrance. The room was cheerful at 
 night. There was a cut-glass chandelier in the midst, pendent 
 from the ceiling. It was not lighted, but it reflected the 
 twinkle of the fire and the flames of the candles on the 
 walls. 
 
 Theresa was in a dark dress, the only dark object in this 
 sparkling apartment. 
 
 As she sank into the easy-chair she uttered a sigh of 
 satisfaction. At length she had found rest. 
 
 She looked dreamily into the fire, and her past unfurled 
 before her. Never, from her infancy, had she possessed a 
 home of her own. As a young girl she had lived on the 
 charity of the kind old lady who had adopted her. On the 
 death of Mrs. Fenton she had been cast adrift on the world, 
 and when married hastily, it was not to be given a home by 
 her sailor husband, but to be lodged in hotels and pensions, 
 till he deserted her. After that her career had been varied 
 and her fortune had been chequered. But never once in all 
 the variations and chequerings had the time and chance come 
 to her when she could call a space within four walls — her 
 home. Except her little desk of inlaid olive-wood, she had 
 nothing that she could regard as permanently her own. 
 Boxes, portmanteaus had been worn out with much travelling, 
 dresses changed, little articles of jewellery had been got rid of 
 in times of need. Only that small desk and the letters and 
 other trifles it contained had remained to her of the past, and
 
 198 MRS. CURGENVBN. 
 
 might alone have remained hers till her dying hands let go 
 their clasp of it. 
 
 But now Percival Curgenven had given her a home — a 
 beautiful home that had legitimately been hers for many 
 years, but which ha 1 been usurped by another. 
 
 She turned her large dark eyes round and looked at every 
 object in this fair parlour. She had excellent taste and she 
 fully appreciated the beauty. But hardly as fully could she 
 realize that it was her own. That chair in which she sat was 
 her own now. And hitherto she had never even possessed a 
 chair that was hers. Those she had rested in had been let 
 with the lodgings, or were the furniture of the hotel. She 
 put her hands to the soft silken arms of the chair and clasped 
 them, to feel that they were realities. She stood up, and 
 walked round the room, touching the various objects, and 
 whispering to herself, ' And this also is mine.' The flowers 
 were from her conservatory. The old Sevres and Dresden 
 china belonged to her. She looked up at the painted ceiling. 
 Cherubs were represented there flying, strewing flowers, and 
 unrolling a scroll on which was inscribed the family motto, 
 'Tandem.' 
 
 1 Tandem,' repeated Theresa after she had raid it. ' At 
 last ! Yes — that is my motto ; at last I have a home, at 
 last rest, at last no concern for the morrow what it may bring 
 forth.' 
 
 On a table was a little fan of white ivory delicately pierced, 
 with the silk web adorned with spangles : one of the fans that 
 were fashionable at the beginning of this century, fans to 
 sparkle under sparkling chandeliers, fanning ladies in dresses 
 of white gauze broidered with sparkling bugles. 
 
 Theresa took it up without much thought; opened and 
 closed it, and returned with it in her hand to her seat before 
 the tire. There she sat, not leaning back, but forward, with 
 her head lightly bowed, looking into the fire, with the fan on 
 her knees. Occasionally feeling inconveniently hot from the 
 glow in the grate she unfurled the fan, and then let it fall 
 together again, fold on fold, unconscious that it was closing, so 
 abstracted was she in her thoughts. 
 
 She knew very well that her position would bo a difficult 
 one. She was without a friend near — a relative she had never 
 to her knowledge had. By education and in feeling she was a 
 lady, with the tastes, the instincts, the tact, the tenderness of 
 a lady ; but she was well convinced that her claim to be one 
 would be disputed. She had been on the stage. What was
 
 A MENACED HOME. 199 
 
 to be expected of an actress? It was true that she had 
 appeared on the boards in subsidiary characters, and for a 
 very brief period indeed ; nevertheless the fact remained, that 
 she had been an actress. She had sung as a professional per- 
 former in concerts and oratorios. To have exercised a profession 
 at all would damn her in many eyes. She had been a gover- 
 ness, and a governess in a family connected with the Cur- 
 genvens. She had — as she knew it would be put— occupied a 
 menial position ; and that it had been menial she could not 
 deny. Finally there remained the fact that she was by birth 
 worse than a nobody. 
 
 She had told everything to Percival. Percival could never 
 reproach her with having hid aught from him. But she 
 doubted whether she had done right in accepting him — not for 
 her own sake but for his. He had been told that he had best 
 marry some one with an established position and with relatives, 
 but he had persisted in taking her. Ought she not, for the 
 sake of him, and as a return for his generous love, to have 
 persisted on her side in refusing him % Then she asked herself 
 — could she have borne to have gone on with such a life as had 
 been hers, when the chance of leaving it had been given her 1 
 She gave a gasp, and looked huiriedly round, unfurled the 
 fan once more, and again settled into thought. 
 
 Would it matter to her very greatly if the neighbourhood 
 gave her the cold shoulder 1 She cared little or nothing 
 for the position in society she had acquired, what she did value 
 was the substantial reality of a home free from sordid money 
 cares, that could not be taken from her — that none could 
 dispute. As for social intercourse with the county people and 
 parsons' wives, she did not suppose that it would prove to her 
 a rich gain if she obtained it, or a sensible loss if she were 
 denied it. The great smothering sand-dune of common-place 
 rolls over the coast-land and destroys all vegetation save the 
 wiry grass and thistle that spring out of the poorest soil. There 
 are those dunes in all spheres of life, in all much the same, and 
 all equally sterile, all equally impatient of any form of life save 
 the meanest and most vulgar. 
 
 Suddenly, with a shiver that thrilled her entire frame, 
 Theresa started out of her dream, looked over her shoulder, and 
 uttered a cry of terror ; then recovered herself and said, ' I 
 beg your pardon, Mr. Physic. I did not hear you enter — and 
 I thought I saw a ghost.' 
 
 ' I hope I am not intruding.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' she said coldly.
 
 200 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Mr. Curgenven will not be back for some time, not if he is 
 sweeping the moors for that scapegrace son of his, who will 
 give him trouble enough and to spare before many years are 
 over. In the meanwhile, till his return, I should like a few 
 words with you, madam.' 
 
 With her fan Theresa wearily indicated a chair. 
 
 Something in her gesture, in her expression of face, in t In- 
 tone of her voice, angered the agent, and instead of seating 
 himself he took hold of the chair, turned it round, and leaning 
 an elbow on the back, and planting a knee on the seat, said, 
 ' Madam ! so you think I am now nothing ; that I am only 
 your humble servant, to be ordered about, and bid send in my 
 bill for work done, and have the odd pence struck off in the 
 cheque that pays me ? ' 
 
 Theresa looked at him in surprise. 
 
 'Oh yes!' sneered he, 'you act your part well, my lady! 
 You have stepped from the stage to the dress-circle, and think 
 to spurn me, do you — eh 1 ' 
 
 Theresa saw that he had been drinking, not enough to make 
 him tipsy, but enough to give him insolence. She said, ' I 
 shall leave the room, Mr. Physic' 
 
 ' You shall not,' he replied ; ' I will bar your way.' 
 
 ' Then I shall ring to have you ejected.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! I like that 1 Have me ejected ; yon eject me ! 
 And do you know that I hold you, body and soul, in the hollow 
 of my hand 1 ' 
 
 Theresa put her hands on the elbows of her chair to raise 
 herself. Physic at once discovered her object, and swinging 
 round the chair on which he leaned, he stepped forward and 
 put his hand on her arm, forcing her back in her seat. 
 
 ' No,' said he, ' you shall not ring the bell. I advise you to 
 listen to what I have to say. We must understand one 
 another. You have had to listen to plain speeches in your life 
 more than once. You were not born to be wrapped in cotton- 
 wool from every breath of cold, and have; a gold spoon put to 
 your mouth with sugared pap.' 
 
 ' I have had to put up with a great deal of impertinence and 
 vulgarity, as you say,' answered Theresa, raising the fan. 
 
 ' Yes,' said he, ' I understand what that fan means. You 
 gave me a rap across the back of my hand with the reins once. 
 And you are ready to do it again. But don't be afraid of me. 
 I have something to tell you that will astonish you, but I 
 will not step another inch nearer to you than this — and see, I 
 put the chair between us again.' He resumed his first position.
 
 A MENACED HOME. 201 
 
 ' Then be good enough to say what must be said in the fewest 
 possible words.' 
 
 1 As you will, madam.' He rested his chin in his hand, and 
 kneeling on the torquoise-blue seat of his chair looked hard at 
 her. ' Humph ! I did not know you were striking at higher 
 game when you refused my honourable offer. But let me tell 
 you, that clever as you have been in bringing down your 
 quarry, you have made one fatal blunder. Do you remember 
 that paper you put into my hands when you were in the 
 bungalow ? ' 
 
 Theresa started. 
 
 ' Do you remember what was endorsed on it ? That it was 
 the will of Captain Lambert Curgenven 1 And that it was to 
 be used or suppressed according as I thought good ? ' 
 
 Theresa nodded slightly. Her heart began to beat with real 
 alarm. 
 
 ' Very well, madam,' pursued the agent, ' you never 
 committed a greater folly in your life than when you put that 
 paper into my hands. When you delivered that to me, you 
 delivered yourself also, body and soul, to me. Look about 
 you. That's a pleasant fire, is it not? That's a handsome, 
 sparkling chandelier, ain't it ? This is a pretty room, with its 
 white and gold and blue, is it not 1 You think it is all yours, 
 don't you 1 It is yours as long as I let you enjoy it ; not an 
 hour longer. You talk of ejecting me from the house ! Why, 
 madam, it is I who can eject you and your husband and his 
 precious cub any day. I have the lever which will tumble you 
 all down, and that lever you put into my palm— fool that you 
 were.' 
 
 Physic was silent, and gazed with evil triumph on Theresa, 
 who looked at him with large dazed eyes, half rising in her 
 seat, the fan fallen at her feet. 
 
 ' Shall I tell you what that will contains which is now in my 
 charge, to use or not to use as seems best to me ] By that 
 will, which is the only one ever made by Captain Lambert after 
 his marriage with Miss Jane Pamphlet, and which was no 
 marriage at all, as you were alive, he acknowledges the in- 
 validity of the marriage and bequeaths all his estate in trust 
 to Miss Jane Pamphlet, commonly known as Mrs. Lambert 
 Curgenveu, and to Mr. Percival Curgenven, in trust, I say, for 
 his natural daughter, Alice Pamphlet, commonly known as 
 Alice Curgenven. Now — how do you relish that, madam 1 
 Have I not in my hands something that can deal you a sharper 
 rap than the reins in your hand dealt to me 1 Can't I hurt
 
 202 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 you a good deal more than you hurt me, when you said, " I 
 reject your offer, I won't he Mrs. Physic," a respectable man's 
 wife in a good business 1 ' He chuckled and rubbed bis hands 
 together over the chair hack. 
 
 1 I will speak of this to my husband,' said Theresa in a 
 tremulous voice, and put her band to bar head, where the 
 pulses were throbhiug as though to burst. A few minutes 
 ago she was congratulating herself that she had at length found 
 a home, certain to be hers for the remainder of her days, and 
 already the insecurity of her hold on it was revealed. She had 
 craved for and found rest, but oidy for a few moments. She 
 was again thrown back into the whirlpool of contending 
 currents, in which she must continue to battle for existence. 
 
 ' No,' answered Physic, ' I forbid you to speak to Mr. 
 Percival on the subject. You are a woman of the world and I 
 am a man of the world — and we understand that with a certain 
 class of people we must deal according to their folly. Your 
 husband is one of those fly-away, romantic, up-on-top-of-a-pole 
 folk. If he knew about this he would throw up the whole 
 concern, and then where would he be, and his dearly beloved 
 cub, Justinian, and you, my lady, who have spread your nets 
 so cleverly 1 No, if you dare to speak to him of this, then the 
 game is up. You need not unpack your travelling trunk ; it 
 is waste labour to take out the new dresses you bought, or had 
 given you, in town, and fold them in drawers or bury them in 
 wardrobes. Alter the direction from Curgenven House to the 
 Pill box, and send for a cab to remove you and your 
 effects as soon as may be. But mind you, Mr. Percival will 
 owe to the estate every penny that has been drawn from it 
 since he came here. He will have to pay back what he took 
 for all the presents he made you, for the marriage licence, for 
 everything, and you know well that will leave him something 
 worse than a beggar. He is not the man to think of all this ; 
 we must think and provide for him. Upon my word ! That 
 will be a come-down off his tall perch, to have to retreat with 
 humiliation to the Pill-box again, and to have all the newly- 
 engaged servants clamouring in his ears for their wages, and 
 not have a penny in his pocket wherewith to satisfy their 
 demands. Who can say whether the Pill-box is available to 
 receive him again 1 ? I suppose he gave notice to surrender 
 his tenure, and it may be let. Then whither is he to go to 
 hide his head 1 ? How do you think he will relish the exchange 
 into poverty from wealth — from being a somebody to sink 
 into a nobody again 1 You may take my word for it, without
 
 PAX ALL ROUND. 203 
 
 counting the cost, he will throw up all if we allow him, and 
 then in will march my Lady Jane and smoke all the rooms to 
 disinfect them, polluted by your presence, and won't she 
 pirouette on stilts at your downfall ! ' 
 
 ' Where is this will you speak of? ' 
 
 ' I have it in my desk in my office.' 
 
 ' I should wish to see it.' 
 
 ' I will bring you a copy.' 
 
 ' I do not desire a copy. I must see the original. Bring it 
 here.' 
 
 ' No, thank you. If you want to see it, you must come to 
 Liskeard and see it in my office.' 
 
 ' I will do so. Now leave me.' 
 
 Mr. Physic left, and Theresa fell back in her chair, and let 
 her arms di^op by her side. She was as one stunned by a 
 blow on the head. For some moments she could neither think 
 nor feel. Consciousness departed, and all was dark before her 
 eyes.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 PAX ALL ROUND. 
 
 When the light returned to Theresa's eyes, and the blood 
 began once more to circulate in her veins, she saw Percival 
 stooping over her, but it was some moments before she could 
 realize who it was. 
 
 ' My dear,' he asked, ' what is it 1 Are you overdone 1 ' 
 
 She tried to smile to reassure him, but her muscles had not 
 recovered sensibility. 
 
 He was alarmed. ' What has happened 1 ' he asked. ' Do 
 speak, Theresa. Have you fainted 1 ' 
 
 Then with a gasp life returned, and she threw her arms 
 round his neck and drew his head down to her face. Her 
 cheek was cold, and a tear was on it like a drop of ice. 
 
 In his uneasiness when he studied her countenance, he saw 
 how sunken were the eyes, and he kissed her face. 
 
 ' Are you very ill 1 — do tell me, my dear ! How has this 
 come on you 1 '
 
 204 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' I shall be better directly,' she said, now panting for breath 
 as though she had run a long way. 
 
 1 Look, Theresa, here is Justinian,' said Percival Curgenven ; 
 ' the fellow has been found at last. I have brought him home, 
 and now he desires to pay you his respects. But you are too 
 tired, too ill — now.' 
 
 ' No,' she said, recovering herself, and catching at the chance 
 of diverting the current of her thoughts into another channel. 
 ' No ; where is he ? ' 
 
 Justinian stepped forward. He had entered the drawing- 
 room rather sheepishly, following his father, and had stood 
 with his lips curled contemptuously at the endearing terms 
 of his father addressed to Theresa, and had turned his head 
 asi'le in disgust when she put her arms round her husband's 
 neck. 
 
 Justinian had made up his mind during the walk home at 
 his father's side, as to the line he would adopt, as to the limits 
 of his concession. He would be respectful and gracious to his 
 step-mother as the wife of his father. 
 
 He was, however, resolved to let her clearly understand 
 that he tolerated her presence in the house and accepted her 
 as the companion of his father, much as he would accept a 
 new spaniel or a parrot that his father had chosen to bring 
 home as a pet. He would give her to understand that it 
 would be lost labour for her to attempt to gain his esteem, let 
 alone his affection; that he did not harbour resentment 
 towards her for having dared to step into that place which 
 had once been occupied by his own mother, but that he would 
 cover over his sentiments with a decent veil so as not to dis- 
 tress his father. But if, at any time, she attempted to sow 
 discord between him and his father, then he would be free to 
 express his opinions, and show his sentiments without reserve, 
 li was advisable, nay, it was necessary, that the conditions of 
 peace should be concluded at once ; and Justinian desired to 
 have a few words with the new Mrs. Curgenven, without the 
 privily of his father. As Percival stood aside, Justinian 
 advanced with a toss of his head and a swing in his walk, 
 that, had Theresa been in a condition to observe him, would 
 have told her at a glance how reluctant the boy was to come 
 to an amicable arrangement. 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' said he, awkwardly, ' that I was the 
 <■ miso of the accident when your collar-bone was broken.' 
 
 1 Oh ! ' answered Theresa, with a smile, ' that was what 
 brought your father to me, it was a happy accident to me.'
 
 PAX ALL ROUND. 205 
 
 Justinian frowned and screwed up his lips. If it were so, 
 then he had double cause to regret that the confounded fire- 
 balloon was earned against the head of Mr. Physic's cob. 
 
 The shadow of his father had been on Theresa, now Mr. 
 Curgenven stepped to the table, and the light from the candles 
 on the mantelpiece fell on her face and revealed the worn, dis- 
 tressed expression, the lustrous eyes, the dark rings about 
 them, and the paleness. The face was still beautiful, though 
 youth had passed, and it wore at this moment a look of pleading 
 pathos. 
 
 ' I'm blessed ! ' said Justinian to himself. ' The poor devil 
 is ill ! ' 
 
 Theresa held out her hand to the young fellow, and Justinian 
 placed his in hers, coldly, with his fingers limp as strips of 
 leather. 
 
 She did not appear to notice his lack of response, and 
 retained his hand. 
 
 ' I should like,' she said, turning her head towards her 
 husband, ' I should like to have Justin here all to myself for 
 a few minutes, between four eyes, as the Germans say.' 
 
 ' Certainly, my dear, if you are sufficiently recovered for a 
 talk. I'll go and look up Physic, and see whether my wine 
 has sent him a dive under the table, or whether he has driven 
 home. I have a few odd matters about which to talk to 
 him.' 
 
 Then Mr. Curgenven left the room. 
 
 There was a stool under a little table near Theresa's chair. 
 She pointed to it with her foot and said, ' Would you mind 
 drawing that up close, and sitting on it % ' 
 
 The lad shuffled uneasily and made no attempt to comply 
 with her request. He would not sit at her feet — at her feet 
 indeed ! at her feet ! What are we coming to next ! She'd 
 be ordering him about, make him say his catechism, bid him 
 hold the wool whilst she unwound the skein ! Bid him stick 
 his ears under the cap lest they should protrude ! 
 
 He answered somewhat sternly, ' I'd rather stand ; I am not 
 at all tired.' 
 
 ' It was not for your sake — it was for mine I asked it,' said 
 Theresa gently. ' I wished to study your face more closely. 
 You have your mother's eyes and brow exactly. I am not 
 surprised at your father loving you so dearly.' 
 
 ' You knew my mother ? ' 
 
 A little contraction — a little life in the hand she held. 
 
 ' To be sure I did. Has not your father told you so 1 I
 
 206 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 nursed her in her last illness. It was very sad to be ill to 
 death in a California!] hotel, with folk coining and going, 
 drinking, dancing, noise- and she ' Theresa studied his 
 
 face, and then said. ' I wish you would stoop, just to be kind 
 and oblige me. It is your mother, your sweet mother, I am 
 looking at in you. Justin — I held her poor hand as I hold 
 yours now, held it when burning with fever, and held it as it 
 grew cold in death.' 
 
 His fingers wen- trembling in hers, and he drew them hastily 
 away lest she should notice it. 
 
 Then he bent on one knee, so as to place his face on a level 
 with hers, and let her lay her hands on his shoulders. 
 
 ' I hope it will be a bond between us,' said Theresa, ' that 
 we both loved her, though you do not remember her — or 
 hardly so — yet you love her, and so did, and so do I.' 
 ' I think I can remember something about her.' 
 ' Yes, but you were very young. Do you know, I received 
 almost her last kiss. Not her last — that was for you. I had 
 you in my arms and brought you to her, and held you over 
 the bed to her. Then she put up her lips and touched with 
 them this hand.' 
 
 She removed her right hand from Justinian's shoulder. He 
 took it at once, held it, and his mouth quivered. He wished 
 to kiss where his mother had kissed, but his pride intervened 
 and he let go her hand again. 
 
 'I will tell you some day all that I can remember about 
 her; but 1 knew her only when she was weak and ill. I 
 never saw her in her full strength and beauty. And that 
 which is a bond between you and me is a bond also between 
 your father and me.' 
 
 ' Do you talk to him about my mother 1 ' 
 'Indeed I do. You need not think, Justin, that any love 
 he may feel for me will diminish that he ever bears in his 
 heart for her who was his first love. Love is not a stream 
 which if diverted to water this field and that field is exhausted 
 and leaves its bed dry. Nor is it soil that if it grow one crop 
 is fatigued and cannot produce another. It is like the in- 
 exhaustible sun that can flood many with its light, and quicken 
 them with its warmth, and each does not rob the other of 
 what is his share. It is like the mighty ocean that can roll 
 round and bathe many islands, and it is always the same wide 
 and deep sea to one and all.' 
 
 A wonderful softness and sweetness was in her face as she 
 spoke, it was as though some of the light and heat of that
 
 PAX ALL EOUND. 207 
 
 sun, some of the depth and saltness of that ocean, were in the 
 solemn dark eyes fixed on the boy, out of whose features all 
 the hardness had gone, from whose lips the defiance had faded, 
 and from whose eyes the antagonism had disappeared. 
 
 ' You ran away to-day, Justin, because you hated to see me 
 arrive. Was it not so 1 ' 
 
 The lad coloured and hung his head. 
 
 1 1 know it was so ; and I honour you for the chivalrous 
 hold on the memory of your mother. You thought I would 
 blur that over in the heart of your father, and that I might 
 in some way turn away his love from you.' 
 
 1 Yes — it was so,' said Justinian. 
 
 ' You were mistaken in thinking this. If we live together 
 long, you will find how greatly you have been mistaken. I 
 have but one object now in life, and that is to make your 
 father happy, who has done so much for me ; and I knew he 
 could not be happy were there anything of estrangement 
 between him and you. He could not love me if he thought 
 I, in any manner, drew a bunch of nettles between himself 
 and you. I believe it was the thought of your mother, the 
 delight of having some one to speak to who remembered her, 
 that brought about his entertaining some liking for me. 
 For in me there was nothing else. I have neither youth nor 
 looks ' 
 
 ' Oh, step-mother, you are beautiful.' 
 
 1 No, Justin, I am past the turn of life, and am withering 
 slowly away. I am even past the time when jealousy affects 
 me j as to yourself, I shall never rob you of any of your 
 father's love. To-day he forgot me, he left me, so unhappy 
 was he because you were away, and he ran off to find you 
 without giving me another thought. This did not make me 
 jealous. On the contrary, it made me admire and love your 
 father all the more. It showed me what a depth of tenderness, 
 what a strong, tough endurance of love there was in his heart, 
 that makes him cling to one whom he loves and who belongs 
 to him. I hope that I shall win in time some such deep strong 
 love for myself. It is worth having. It is worth devoting 
 one's life to deserve it. Do not undervalue it, Justin.' 
 
 The boy drew the stool from under the table, seated himself 
 on it, and leaning his cheek on the arm of Theresa's chair 
 looked up into her face. He had forgotten his mistrust, lost 
 his dislike for her. 
 
 ' I should wish to ask you something,' she said. 
 
 ' Ask me what you will, step-mother.'
 
 208 MRS. CURQENVEN. 
 
 'Do you suppose your father would be content to return to 
 the old house and manner of life?' 
 
 ' What — to that beastly Pill-box 1 I should just tbink not.' 
 
 ' Is be happy bere in this grand mansion 1 ' 
 
 'Of course he is. You wouldn't like to have to go back to 
 Miss Treise, the milliner's little lodgings over the shop, would 
 you, now 1 ' 
 
 ' No, perhaps not.' 
 
 ' I should say most certainly not.' 
 
 1 But,' continued Theresa, ' your father was never the man 
 to value splendour and comforts.' 
 
 ' Because he never had the chance of enjoying them. He 
 had to manage to get along as best he might in old days. He 
 didn't like it, but be couldn't help it. Now it's quite another 
 matter. By Jove ! ' exclaimed the boy, ' if I thought it was 
 all up with us here, and we had to quit, I'd cut my stick and 
 be off out of the country, anywhere. I wouldn't show my face 
 in Liskeard, no, nor in England ; having been a young squire 
 once, I couldn't come down.' 
 
 'You are confident your father likes his present condition ? 
 He grumbles a good ileal about it.' 
 
 ' Oh, that's his way. Of course he likes to be a J.P. and a 
 squire, and to be able to give a fellow shooting and fishing 
 over his property and in his waters, and to have money in his 
 pocket instead of a hole. Only he doesn't care to show how 
 it pleases him. That's all.' 
 
 Justinian considered a moment, then laughed and said, 
 ' And what's as jolly as anything is to be able to order that 
 chap Physic about, and have him awfully civil, instead of being 
 patronized by him as we were before. He is a cad, and I hate 
 him.' 
 
 Justinian drummed with bis fingers on the chair. Then he 
 said, 'What do you think, step-mother, that Physic has been 
 about 1 He has turned the Moridegs out of their house, has 
 torn the roof off and pulled down the walls.' 
 
 ' Who are the Moridegs ? ' 
 
 1 Oh ! don't you know 1 Old Roger knocked Physic down 
 when he was told that he was to be turned out of house and 
 home by him, and so Physic sent him to prison. He is quite 
 an old chap and perfectly harmless. His wife is a queer 
 creature, people think her a white-witch and that she has the 
 evil oye, but I don't hold with all that stuff.' 
 
 ' Have they a family ? ' 
 
 1 N — no, not exactly. There's a grandchild, you know. It's
 
 PAX ALL ROUND. 209 
 
 an awful shame, and that is one reason why I have been away 
 from Curgenven to-day. I have been seeing these poor old 
 creatures under shelter. Physic would have let them starve 
 and die of exposure on the moor.' 
 
 • And Mr. Physic, if he could, would turn us out, you and 
 your father and me, turn us out of this beautiful house.' 
 
 ' I have no doubt about it,' answered Justinian with vehe- 
 mence. ' Not a shadow of a doubt about it. The joy and fun 
 is — he can't.' 
 
 ' I hope not.' 
 
 ' I am sure he cannot. By Jove, if I thought he could I'd 
 knock him down as old Morideg did, if I had to go to gaol for 
 it. I'd go and sing praises there, as Paul and Silas did.' 
 
 ' He shall not do it,' said Theresa in a low tone. ' No, he 
 shall not do it.' 
 
 Then Mr. Curgenven came in. He looked surprised to see 
 his rebellious boy sitting familiarly by Theresa's side — close 
 to her, playing with her fan that he had picked up from the 
 floor. 
 
 ' Physic is gone,' said Percival Curgenven. ' He'll have to 
 come out again and see me, I suppose. It is foolish of him to 
 leave without a word.' 
 
 1 But it is late, Percival, and he has a long drive. How was 
 he to know when you would be returning home? I rather 
 want to go into Liskeard in a day or two, and then I can take 
 him a message from you.' 
 
 ' That will do. Well ! how do you and Justin get on to- 
 gether? Patched up any little disagreements, I hope.' 
 
 ' We are very good friends,' said Theresa. 
 
 'We are the best of friends,' said the boy, standing up; 
 ' and, I say, governor, you might have done worse : as step- 
 mothers go, you couldn't have done better — so Pax all round, 
 I say.'
 
 210 MRS. (TRCENVEN. 
 
 CHAPTEB XXXIV 
 
 IN THE OFFICE. 
 
 Tiik town of Liskeard is a strange one. The first question 
 i lif visitor asks Lb: ' Whal can have brought it there?' It 
 does not occupy the ridge or spur of a hill, as one that has 
 gathered round a border castle ; it does not occupy a valley by 
 a river, as one that has nestled about an abbey; it is not 
 planted at a convergence of roads, as one that lives and thrives 
 on commerce. It consists of a multitude of houses tumbled 
 promiscuously over steep hill and narrow dale, so that the 
 chimneys of one house throw their smoke in at the windows 
 of another, and a street is as contorted literally as a letter S, 
 and undulates vertically as a switch-back railway. 
 
 The reason why Liskeard is a town, and was planted where 
 it is, must be sought down a narrow lane that leads to a great 
 unfailing, limpid spring, pouring forth a Hood of the purest 
 water through four orifices. The old British saints loved to 
 settle by springs of water, and there is hardly a church in 
 Cornwall that is not associated with a holy well. No well in 
 the county is so copious, so marvellous in its unfailing supply. 
 as that of Liskeard. It may have received divine homage in 
 pagan times ; it certainly received consecration by some shaggy 
 Celtic hermit ; he settled by it, wrought miracles with its 
 water, and his cell became the nucleus of a town. 
 
 In an old slated house in one of the tortuous streets of Lis- 
 keard lived Mr. Physic, solicitor and property agent. Any 
 one who has been into a lawyer's office anywhere in that world 
 that supports lawyers knows them all. They are as alike as 
 dried peas. Some have more iron cases, lettered with the 
 initials or names of clients, than have others, some have the 
 table more littered with correspondence and half-endorsed 
 deeds than others, but all have the same look, the same smell, 
 the same character. 
 
 Mr. Physic had just risen from his desk to take some mid- 
 i!a\ refreshment — a glass of sherry and sandwiches— when the 
 clerk showed in Mr. Pike, the horsebreaker. 
 
 'How d'y do?' said the agent cheerily. 'And how's the 
 missus and all the babbies | ' 
 
 ' Very well, thank you, sir, very well. We're all tough, 
 thanks be,'
 
 IN THE OFFICE. 211 
 
 'Take a chair,' said Physic ; ' come at an opportune moment. 
 Just had my humble lunch brought in. Let me pour you out 
 a glass of sherry.' 
 
 ' No, thank you, sir,' said the horsebreaker, taking a seat. 
 He wanted a glass of wine, he intended to have it, but he 
 knew what good manners were, and required to be pressed. 
 
 • Now, come,' said the solicitor. ' You have been engaged 
 with a skittish horse, I can see ; look a little pulled about, you 
 do. By name I am allied to the medical profession, so let me 
 prescribe.' 
 
 'Thank you, sir, I feel hearty. I never drink before I eat.' 
 
 ' Then eat, Pike, at once. Here are sandwiches.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't deprive you.' 
 
 ' Not deprive me at all. I will ring for more. Now, a 
 glass? ' holding the decanter in the position of the earth as it 
 rotates round the sun. 
 
 ' I really had rather not.' 
 
 1 Half a glass 1 ' 
 
 ' "Well, then, as you are so pressing, half a glass.' 
 
 ' Very well, only a half.' 
 
 So Mr. Physic filled it, so as not to run over ; that made 
 half a glass ; a glass that overflows is a whole glass. After 
 Pike had eaten a sandwich and drunk his glass, the agent put 
 his head on one side and said suppliantly : ' Come, let me pour 
 you out another.' 
 
 ' Not on any account.' 
 
 ' I insist.' 
 
 'Well, there is a crumb in my windpipe — a drop — not 
 above a drop.' 
 
 So his glass was replenished. 
 
 ' Now, then,' said Physic, ' what is the business, Pike 1 ' 
 But just as the lawyer had hung back before asking this 
 question, so now did the horsebreaker hang back from answer- 
 ing it. 
 
 ' Look there,' said Pike, pointing to a dog on the mat by 
 the fire-place. ' That poor brute has got the distemper. I'll 
 tell you what you should do with her. Give her some wine. 
 She's running at the eyes and nose. If you don't take care 
 you'll lose her. Give her sherry with syrup of squills and 
 camphor- water. That will bring her round like the minute- 
 hand of a clock.' 
 
 ' I'll do it,' said Physic. ' Now to business. I'm your man.' 
 
 ' You don't notice any smell, do you 1 ' asked the horse- 
 breaker.
 
 212 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' No, Pike ; why ? ' 
 
 ' Because there's a man Belling real fresh bloaters, am! I 
 bought a few and have them here. My wife can't touch red 
 salt herrings ; they give her heartburn. But the real fresh 
 bloater is another thing. The man has a cart-load. I'd have 
 more if I wasn't riding. 1 
 
 ' Well ; now to business.' 
 
 'Very well, sir.' Pike touched bis forehead. 'It's only 
 about a little field and a stable, you know, sir, that Matthew 
 Kneebone had.' 
 
 ' Oh, you can't have those ; they are to be thrown into Philip 
 Downe's lot.' 
 
 ' It would be uncommon convenient for me.' 
 
 ' Convenient or not, it can't be helped. I believe Mr. < 'm 
 genven has as much as promised it.' 
 
 ' But I want a paddock, and that stable comes in terrible 
 handy for me.' 
 
 ' There are difficulties.' 
 
 'I dare say there be. But I want that paddock and linney 
 uncommon bad. And, look here, Lawyer Physic, I don't mind 
 a couple of guineas ; and I'll give you a bit of advice as may 
 be useful.' 
 
 • Oh, advice ! ' 
 
 ' Why 1 reckon if I came to you for advice I'd have to pay 
 six-and-eight for it.' 
 
 ' Yes, but I am a solicitor.' 
 
 ' Well, and I am a man who has his eyes and ears open. 
 And the bit o' advice I can give you may be worth many 
 scores of six-and-eightpences. Take the two guineas' — he put 
 the money, two sovereigns and two shillings, on the table— 
 ' and my advice, which is worth more nor that, and manage 
 for me the paddock and the stable.' 
 
 'Very well, then,' said Physic, drawing the money to him. 
 ' Now for the advice.' 
 
 'They say you're going to open a mine at Tolmenna.' 
 
 •Yes, I am.' 
 
 ' Yoxi'll like to go there and look about, and see how the 
 mine gets along.' 
 
 'Of course.' 
 
 'Then I just wouldn't.' 
 
 'Why so?' 
 
 • Well, you shouldn't go without some one to be along with 
 you. There's that ou'd chap Morideg, as you sent to prison 
 and turned out o' his house. Ho ain't gone so terrible far.
 
 IN THE OFFICE. 213 
 
 He's at that wisht place now, Smallacomb, by the Trewortha 
 Marsh. Farmer Hockin have let 'n into an ou'd linney there.' 
 
 ' And what if he have ? ' 
 
 'Well, he don't look on you with a very loving eye. He's 
 an ignorant man ; he's knocked you down once, and he says, 
 says he, give him a chance, and he'll finish you some day. I'd 
 keep off the moors if I was you, lawyer, for a bit. Mebbe 
 Morideg '11 move further off. As long as he's near, and his 
 heart of a blaze wi' wrongs, if I was you, Lawyer Physic, I'd 
 just keep to the roads and lanes, and not show my head on the 
 moor.' 
 
 ' If he attempted to lay but a finger on me ' 
 
 ' I don't reckon he'll lay a finger on you, sir ; but he might 
 hap accidental, when you was by, to lay a finger on the trigger 
 of his old gun. He's a cruel good shot, folks say.' 
 
 Physic's face turned white. 
 
 ' I'm really much obliged,' he said. ' I really am. You 
 shall have the paddock and linney. I'll tell the squire they 
 were promised to you before Downe applied.' 
 
 ' No offence, sir. You don't happen to have an axe or a 
 chopper here, do you ! ' 
 
 ■ I cannot say I have. Why ? ' 
 
 ' Because, Lawyer Physic, if you had, I'd say, put it in 
 the corner, and turn 'n with the blade upperways to cut the ill 
 wish.' 
 
 < What ill wish ? ' 
 
 ' The old woman, Mrs. Morideg. Her's got the evil eye, 
 and her has ill-wished you afore a score o 1 people. It's 
 sure to come on you unless you cut it off wi' a hatchet, as I 
 said.' 
 
 1 I'll risk that, Pike.' Then, as a tap came at his door, in a 
 loud tone : ' Come in ! ' 
 
 'Mrs. Curgenven,' said the clerk. 'Are you engaged, 
 sir?' 
 
 ' For Mrs. Curgenven, at her service. By-bye, Pike, you 
 shall have the — you know what ; and I'll remember what you 
 said.' 
 
 As Theresa came in : ' How do you do, my dear madam 1 
 What an honour ! What a pleasure ! Allow me to ring for 
 another glass and some more sandwiches.' 
 
 Pike, the horsebreaker, put his hand to his forehead and 
 backed out of the office, but took advantage of Mrs. Curgenven's 
 attention being directed towards the agent to have a good stare 
 at the new squiress.
 
 214 MRS. CUlicKNVEN. 
 
 ' A chair — nay, five — all in the office are at your disposal,' 
 said Physic. ' And sherry. What say you, madam / We 
 most build up our constitutions ; we mustn't let the clock 
 run down.' 
 
 Theresa slightly bowed. She turned to see that Pike had 
 left and had shut the door, and then, coming dose to the oflice 
 desk, and resting her gloved hand on it, she said, ' You are, 
 no doubt, aware for what purpose 1 am here, Mr. Physic' 
 
 'Stay a bit,' said the agent. He ran to the door and re- 
 called Pike, and when the horsebreaker returned Physic said, 
 'By the way, I think Mr. Pike may he able to throw some lighl 
 on a topic we mentioned the other day. Now, my good 
 fellow, lend me your attention for a few minutes. Screw 
 up your memory to concert pitch. Tell me if by great 
 exertion you can recall what happened in October five years 
 ago.' 
 
 'Yes, sir. I broke a nice little cob for Sir Sampson 
 Tregontick.' 
 
 ' I do not mean that. Can you remember whether you did 
 anything for the late Captain Lambert 1 ' 
 
 ' No, sir, not five years ago; four years ago, come March, 1 
 bought him a mare which I thought 'ud 'a done for his carriage. 
 You see, the second of his pair had a splint ' 
 
 ' I do not mean that either, Pike. I am referring to your 
 witnessing a document. Did Captain Curgenven ever call you 
 into the house ' 
 
 ' Into the bungalow, sir.' 
 
 ' Yes, into the bungalow, to see him set his hand to any 
 document 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I remember it quite well.' 
 
 ' And what was the document, Pike 1 ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, 1 can't say as I was given it to look at. The 
 squire he said he only wanted me and Roger Morideg 
 to witness his signature to his will ; that was all I knew 
 about it.' 
 
 ' Exactly. You can write your name, Pike, I suppose V 
 
 ' To be sure I can. I'm not a scholar. Never had the chances 
 some young folk has now, but 1 can write " Samuel Pike "; I 
 can do that.' 
 
 ' And old Morideg?' , 
 
 'Oh, he couldn't ; he could oidy put a cross, and that a rare 
 queer one I reckon, so the squire he put to it that it was his 
 token, as how he couldn't write.' 
 
 'And you remember this perfectly, Piko?'
 
 IN THE OFFICE. 215 
 
 ' Perfectly. It was just after St. Matthew's fair at 
 Liskeard.' 
 
 ' Thank you, that will do, Pike. I will not detain you 
 longer.' 
 
 When the horsebreaker had left the office, Physic said with a 
 smile : ' I thought it as well, as Pike happened to be here, to 
 find out what he knew about the signature. When I show 
 you the will in a minute or two you will see that it is as he 
 said. He signed his name as witness, and old Morideg set his 
 cross. Why Captain Lambert had these two men in to see 
 him set his hand to the will is not hard to discover. The 
 document was to be used only on an emergency, only in the 
 event of your reappearing, and therefore in the event of his 
 marriage with Miss Jane Pamphlet proving invalid and vitiat- 
 ing the marriage settlement. He therefore went out of his 
 way to get a couple of ignorant and uninterested persons to 
 act as witnesses. That, I take it, is the meaning of Pike and 
 Morideg having been employed on the occasion. If you have 
 any further doubt — if you think that I am trying to deceive 
 you, go and ask old Roger Morideg. He has no love for me. 
 I consigned him to prison for having knocked me down, and I 
 have turned him out of his house. But he can't deny that he 
 was called in by Captain Curgenven to witness his signature to 
 his last will and testament. Now, madam.' 
 
 Physic went to his desk and unlocked a drawer. He 
 drew forth a long envelope, and held it under the eyes of 
 Theresa. 
 
 ' You remember this, madam ? It was what you put into 
 my hands.' 
 
 ' Yes. That is it/ said Theresa, recognizing at once the 
 inscription on the cover. 
 
 1 Very well,' said Physic. He drew the contents from the 
 envelope, unfolded and spread the paper on the desk. 
 
 ' Let me see,' mused the agent. ' How shall it be 1 I'm not 
 going to put this into your hands. It's too valuable to me, and 
 ditto to you. I'll hold it out flat on the desk, and you shall look 
 over my shoulder and read it. Will that satisfy you?' 
 
 ' You cannot trust me ? ' 
 
 Physic laughed. ' You've been too long in America. You 
 know too much of the seamy side of life. You've been at the 
 grindstone so that a fine edge is put on you. Thank you, 
 madam, I'd rather not.' 
 
 He stood at the desk with his hands on the open will, and 
 Theresa looked at it over his shoulder.
 
 216 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' There ! ' said the solicitor, pointing to the bottom of the 
 sheet with a chuckle. ' Look ! it is as Pike said : there is 
 Morideg's scrambling cross, as crooked and shapeless as 
 some of the granite crosses on the moor. And there stands 
 "Samuel Pike." No mistake about it, none at all. How do 
 you like it?' 
 
 'Let me read it,' said Theresa. 
 
 A little hope had risen in her heart that there might be in 
 it some mention of herself — not for the sake of a bequest, but 
 as a token of kindly feeling from her first husband. This will 
 was to stand if she reappeared on the scene. She read it 
 through, but her name did not once occur in it ; not a penny 
 was left to her by it ; not a token appeared that Lambert 
 entertained the smallest atom of regard for her. 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 ' Ah ! it makes you uncomfortable,' said Physic, with a 
 chuckle. ' You don't relish having to turn out of Curgenven, 
 do you ? ' 
 
 ' It was not over that I sighed.' 
 
 ' Oh ! but that is not a cheering prospect. What will you 
 do? "I cannot dig, to beg I am ashamed," eh 1 ? Go on the 
 stage again, and maintain Mr. Percival in cigars and cheap 
 claret on what you earn ? And have that pittance sliced into 
 to send Justinian to school. You would prefer his absence to 
 his presence.' 
 
 ' I do not believe,' said Theresa, ' that Mrs. Jane will thank 
 you for this will. She would prefer to remain as she is rather 
 than have it produced.' 
 
 ' I shall not ask her. I know that as well — better than 
 you. She is too proud to endure the thought that she was 
 not married respectably, and is not all square in the sight of 
 society. But that is nothing to me. I prove the will, whether 
 she likes it or not— whether you like it or not. I shall find 
 some explanation for its not having been produced earlier ' 
 
 ' But if Mrs. Jane Curgenven does not wish it, why should 
 you?' 
 
 ' Put it as you will. I am an honourable man, and am hound 
 to carry out the instructions of my deceased client. Or put it,' 
 he laughed, ' that I owe you a grudge for having refused me 
 and taken Percival Curgenven. It is the same to me which 
 way you put it.' 
 
 ' It is of no use, I suppose, my pleading with you ? ' 
 
 'None the least. Words are naught. But, I won't say 
 (hat I am not amenable to reason, if very solid reason — solid
 
 AN ENCOUNTER. 217 
 
 reason, understand — be given me why I should put the will 
 back in my desk.' 
 
 ' Surely these are solid reasons, that neither party affected 
 by the will desires its production. I, certainly not, for it 
 sends me and my husband to poverty. But then I am quite 
 sure Jane Curgenven does not desire that this will should be 
 proved ; the wound to her pride would be too great.' 
 
 ' These may be solid reasons to you, but not to me.' 
 
 ' Then what do you mean 1 ' 
 
 ( Come, now,' said Physic, ' I'm going to open a mine on a 
 bit of moor I've acquired. It will cost money, and I shall 
 have to sink a lot before there can be any return. Now, look 
 here, madam, I will undertake one thing. Find me three 
 hundred pounds, and for a twelvemonth you shall hear no 
 more of this will. It shall remain in my desk, and not even 
 walk out of its envelope.' 
 
 ' Three hundred pounds ! ' 
 
 ' Three hundred pounds. Unless that be forthcoming 
 within one fortnight, I shall go to the Probate Office with the 
 will.' 
 
 ' I will speak to my husband.' 
 
 1 You shall not mention it to him. I tell you he is too 
 careless about consequences to be trusted. The will proved, 
 he will curse his stars he was such a fool as not to propitiate 
 me.' 
 
 ' But how am I to find three hundred pounds ? ' 
 
 ' That is your affair. A woman of the world such as you is 
 full of expedients.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 AN ENCOUNTER. 
 
 It was Sunday : a fair and pleasant day. The Sunday- 
 school scholars in file had been marched to church and ranged 
 on their- benches, exhaling around them a combined odour of 
 soap and bergamot. 
 
 Farmers, in their glossy black coats and tall hats of 
 antiquated fashion, took their places. The servants from the
 
 218 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 rectory and from the Manor arrivi d as (lights of humming- 
 birds, so brilliant was their plumage. The choir were 
 collected about the organ that oocupie 1 the north chancel aisle, 
 and at it sat, or ' pre.-ided,' as newspaper* say, Jane Curgenveu 
 in widow's weeds. The organ had stood for several decades 
 under the tower arch at the west end of the nave, where it 
 was in perhaps the best position it could occupy. But there is 
 a fashion in placing organs as (here is a fashion in hats, and 
 when the fashion was in full How to have the organ at the east 
 end of an aisle, where it would be most unsightly, at 
 considerable cost it was removed to (hat position, and the 
 rector preached on the occasion to assure the parishioners that 
 the changed position of the instrument had no doctriual 
 signification. 
 
 At the urgency of the incumbent, to the irritation and amid 
 the growls of the neighbourhood, on the death of the penult- 
 imate squire a memorial reredos had been set up to him in 
 the chancel by public subscription, and now the neighbour- 
 hood was in agonies of apprehension lest an appeal should go 
 forth for subscriptions to a memorial window to the late squire. 
 The reredos in question was an elaborate structure of marble 
 and tile, in which were floreated niches designed and executed 
 to contain nothing, and exquisitely sculptured frameworks to 
 enclose blanks. This reredos also, as the Rev. Mr. Pamphlet 
 assured all doubters, had positively no meaning. 
 
 Indeed, so scrupulous a man was the Rev. Mr. Pamphlet 
 lest erroneous teaching should be presented to eye or ear of his 
 flock, that he took precautions to teach them nothing at all. 
 He may be said through his pastorate to have dealt with 
 sacrament and ceremony as boys do with eggs. Having blown 
 out all their contents, he bade his parishioners thank Heaven 
 that it was their glorious, their precious privilege to possess in 
 their beloved church a museum of empty shells. 
 
 Mrs. Jane had her eye on the manorial pew that occupied 
 the south chancel aisle. As long as she had been squiress she 
 had not taken her place in it, as duty had called and glued 
 her to the organ-stool, save on saints' days, when there was 
 no choir. As Miss Pamphlet, daughter of the rector, she 
 had drilled the choir, and had played the instrument that 
 accompanied their voices. She did not resign her post, when 
 she became lady of the manor, to school-master, mission woman, 
 or Scripture reader, for the first could not manipulate an 
 instrument ; the mission woman, on principle, would play 
 Gregorian music only; and the evangelist, also on principle,
 
 AN ENCOUNTER. 219 
 
 nothing but Moody and Sankey. Consequently the squiress 
 had maintained her place as teacher of the singers and organ- 
 ist throughout her reign, and had never consciously desired 
 to resign it for the more dignified and dominating position in 
 the squirearchical pew under the monuments of many past 
 Curgenvens and the helmet and tabard of Sir Justin Curgeu- 
 ven the Crusader, that hung below the wall-plate. 
 
 Now, however, that her right to occupy this pew was lost, 
 she hankered after it, and was conscious of a consuming 
 bitterness in her heart at the thought that perhaps the place 
 therein that had been hers, had she cared to take it, for 
 seventeen years, would now be invaded by a stranger — and 
 such a stranger ! That her place — her place, the place of Jane 
 Curgenven of immaculate fame, who had never missed a choir 
 practice, been the mainspring of all the parochial activities — 
 should be taken from her by a mere adventuress ! Jane 
 Curgenven inadvertently trod on the pedals, and a note that 
 escaped uttered a whine. The boy at the bellows, thinking 
 this was a signal to him to display his energies, began 
 immediately to labour at his lever, and this was followed by 
 bursts of wind from the overladen bellows. Mrs. Jane looked 
 round the angle of the instrument and shook her head at him, 
 when he at once desisted. 
 
 Would the person who had married Percival appear in 
 church that day % This was a question in Jane's mind, and 
 she could not resolve whether it would be better for that 
 person to remain away or to appear. If she did not come to 
 church on this her first Sunday at Curgenven it would be 
 much the same as a proclamation to the parish that she was 
 not a Christian and Churchwoman, or, what was much the 
 same thing, did not care to sit under the Rev. Mr. Pamphlet. 
 It would be setting a bad example that was certain to be 
 quoted by total and partial abstainers from divine worship, 
 and it would accordingly be furnishing her, Jane Curgenven, 
 with a grievance that she would be justified in making the 
 very most of. It would be a plausible excuse for letting her 
 imagination riot among the forms of heresy and agnosticism 
 and atheism prevalent in the United States, and to speculate 
 which had upset the faith of this individual — that is, supposing 
 she ever had any to be upset. But then, on the other hand, if 
 she did come to church, was it desirable, even for the sake of 
 example ? Would it not seriously compromise the Church and 
 her father should some dreadful scandal come out relative to 
 this woman's past, or should her moral or social conduct
 
 220 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 become scandalous in the future * And, again, what good was 
 
 divine service likely to do to a person of this sort] It could 
 only harden her, deaden her, perhaps puff her up with the 
 thought that she was an admirable member of society and a 
 devout daughter of the Church. Would it not be a sort of 
 sacrilege for a creature of this character to raise her voice in 
 the hymns and psalms, to say 'Amen' to the prayers, and to 
 have the words of her father poured into her ears ( 
 
 The bell ceased. At once Jane Ourgenven rapped on the 
 keys, and the blower bent his back at the bellows. To tin- 
 strains of 'How beautiful are the feet' there sailed in the 
 rector, in very full surplice and very full white whiskers, from 
 the vestry and up the aisle, like a large white owl. 
 
 When the voluntary was concluded Mrs. Jane Curgenven 
 turned in her seat to listen with one ear to the exhortation, 
 and with one eye to observe the manorial pew. In it she saw 
 the new Mrs. Curgenven standing, in plain navy-blue dress, 
 with simple bonnet with feather and ribbons to match. 
 
 1 1 should have expected her to have been more of a peacock,' 
 mused Jane. ' This kind of people are loud and dressy ; but 
 she is acting a part.' 
 
 It was remarkable how appropriate psalm and lesson were 
 that day; how they spoke of certain persons being deceitful 
 upon the weights, and lighter than vanity itself ; of wander- 
 ing stars to whom was reserved the blackness of darkness ; all 
 of which were of obvious application — so Jane Curgenven 
 thought. Even the rector's sermon had points in it that 
 seemed levelled against the intruder iuto the manorial pew, 
 which was the more remarkable because the rector took pains 
 to rub down every point that happened to appear in his 
 discourses, lest it should have by hazard personal application 
 to any one who might chance to be present. There are men, 
 say the Germans, on the further side of the hills, and it was 
 only at such as were beyond sight, and among whom his 
 arrows might fall spent, that the Rev. Mr. Pamphlet ever 
 drew his bow. After the service had been ambled through 
 with decorum, and the Benediction had been spoken with 
 pathos, Jane played a voluntary for the departure of the 
 congregation. That ended, and the stops driven in. she turned 
 on her stool and saw that .Mrs. Percival Curgenven had not left 
 the church with the rest, but had waited to retire after all had 
 dispersed. Jane left her seat at the organ as Theresa stepped 
 out of the pew, and both met in the chanceL Jane gave 
 Theresa one of those looks from head to feet that express so
 
 AN ENCOUNTER. 221 
 
 much not of compliment but of insult. Then she sniffed, 
 tossed her chin, and strode down the chancel steps, showing 
 the other her back, and that a back that shrugged the shoulders 
 simultaneously, then the right, and next the left ; next, the 
 hand, after the glove had been drawn on, was put behind, 
 lifted the skirt and shook it. As Jane entered and passed 
 through the churchyard, her attention was engrossed by the 
 clouds, their shape, their menace of rain, till she had reached 
 the gate opening into the rectory grounds, when she went 
 through and swung it behind her sharply. To her surprise 
 she heard the click of the hasp after it had been shut, and, 
 turning round, saw that Theresa had entered the rectorial 
 precincts. 
 
 The temerity of this proceeding roused Jane's anger. She 
 could not legally forbid Theresa entering the church, but she 
 could eject her from private grounds. 
 
 She stopped in her walk, and confronted the new squiress 
 with sternness in her face. 
 
 'I beg your pardon : this is not a public walk.' 
 
 Theresa halted, and said gently, ' I do not wish to 
 intrude.' 
 
 ' This is private ground.' 
 
 ' Then I will l^etire ; but might I have a word ? ' 
 
 ' You have probably mistaken the person to whom you wish 
 to address yourself. I am Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 ' It is with you I wish to speak.' 
 
 ' You do me an honour ' (spoken in that tone of voice and 
 with an inflection that implied, ' In that you have the advan- 
 tage of me '). 
 
 Jane walked leisurely forward, with hand extended to take 
 hold of the gate and close it, and with a repellent expression 
 that forced Theresa to retreat. 
 
 Jane would not pause till she had made Percival's wife 
 draw through the opening in the hedge and rail, and then, 
 planting her feet on the granite threshold that served as a 
 step into the churchyard, she said, ' I am at your service. 
 But we lunch punctually at one on Sundays, and I expect to 
 hear the bell shortly. Can you say your word in five minutes 1 
 I fear I cannot afford you a longer space for it. You are, if 
 I mistake not ' 
 
 ' One woman appealing to another woman,' said Theresa 
 quickly. ' It is the will of Heaven that we should occupy 
 the same parish, and we shall be, as near neighbours, con- 
 strained to see a good deal of each other. I am an entire
 
 222 MRS. OURGBNVBN. 
 
 stranger in this place. 1 have do Friends but my husband. 
 J have, to the best of iuy knowledge, do relations ia ihe 
 world. You are familiar with the neighbourhood, and are 
 one with the society that is found in it. We both loved the 
 same man — bore the same name — though our lots have been 
 so different. You for many years have occupied that position 
 in which 1 am now placed — one for which I was not born and 
 to which I never aspired.' 
 
 Mrs. Jane raised her eyebrows and pursed up her lips. 
 ' Never aspired ! ' she repeated. 
 
 'No; to which I never aspired, 1 said Theresa. 
 
 ' And may I ask to what this preamble leads?' 
 
 'I have come as the woman I describe — a stranger, and 
 friendless — to you, at home and amidst friends, to ask whether 
 it is possible that you can receive and help me.' 
 
 Jane looked coldly at her. Was this acting, or was it a 
 real appeal 1 
 
 * I can quite understand,' she said, ' that with such a past 
 as yours you should seek the help of some one to escape into 
 respectable society.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon. My past is not one to be ashamed of,' 
 said Theresa, with some indignation. ' If you mean my birth, 
 that was my misfortune, not ' 
 
 'Oh, I did not allude to your birth ; of course you could not 
 help that. I cast no reflection on that.' 
 
 ' Then what do you mean 1 ' 
 
 ' There are certain — well, you have been on the stage.' 
 
 ' Yes, for part of a winter. I was driven to it. I needed 
 bread. Would not you have done the same 1 ' 
 
 ' I — I would have died first. How dare you suggest such a 
 thing to mel' 
 
 ' What was the harm 1 ' 
 
 1 Oh, I do not say that the stage itself is harmful ; it is the 
 association. Every one knows ' 
 
 'Everyone does not know,' said Theresa warmly. 'How 
 can you, born in a parsonage, reared under the shadow of the 
 church, living a country life, never associating with any save 
 country people and parsonic families — how can you know any- 
 thing about the stage 1 ' 
 
 ' I know this,' said Mrs. Jane : ' the exhalation from a swamp 
 may reach one's nostrils without one having to plunge into it.' 
 
 ' You have judged partially and unjustly. Excuse my 
 saying so. But, as I said, I was on the stage but for one 
 short period — half a season — and that only because, in the
 
 AN ENCOUNTER. 223 
 
 first place, I must have done something in order to live, and, 
 in the next, I took the place of one who from sickness fell out 
 of her engagement. In the difficulties in which the company 
 was situated I was asked to supply her place, and the fact 
 that she was not fulfilling her engagement preyed on her 
 mind. To satisfy her, I went in her place. Before that, and 
 after that, I never performed. And that person whose place 
 I supplied was my dear present husband's first wife.' 
 
 ' I thought as much ! ' exclaimed Jane, with a tone of 
 triumph in her voice. 
 
 ' What ! that I took her place 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh dear no ! but that she had been no better than ' 
 
 ' She was a lovable, patient person, who was the bread- 
 winner when, for the time, Mr. Percival Cuigenven was 
 without work. I knew her and I valued her.' 
 
 ' " Birds of a feather," ' muttered Jane to herself 
 
 1 But that is neither here nor there. You did not know her 
 and her merits. I did. Because I loved and valued her, 
 Percival has taken me. Now to the point. Will you be 
 kind to me 1 My position is difficult.' 
 
 ' Kind I will be,' said Jane Cuigenven haughtily, ' but you 
 must excuse me if I say that we can never be more than 
 acquaintances, without one atom of sympathy between us. 
 We belong to different worlds of thought and feeling. I 
 could not make a friend of you if I would. There may be — 
 let us hope there are — good people who have taken up with the 
 dramatic profession. But I do not understand them. They 
 may be good ; but it is a goodness I cannot comprehend I 
 live in a world of realities — and cannot understand one of 
 pretences.' 
 
 'And you have been at Drumduskie?' asked Theresa, with 
 involuntary irony in her tone. 
 
 Jane looked at her stonily. What had Drumduskie, the 
 highly respectable cornfactor, and her own sublimely respect- 
 able sister, to do with the stage? — with acting 1 ?— with 
 pretences 1 To Theresa it had seemed in that house as though 
 she — the actress — had been the only person living a life of 
 reality. Mrs. Jane proceeded : 
 
 ' It is not merely that affair of the stage, which you try to 
 explain away, that forms an insurmountable barrier. You 
 know very well there was that other matter.' 
 
 'What other?' 
 
 ' It is idle to pretend not to understand me. That scandal- 
 ous, that infamous attempt on my poor dear lost husband 1 '
 
 224 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Scandalous ! infamous attempt ! He was my husband.' 
 
 ' That I never will admit.' 
 
 ' But I can produce the most unimpeachable testimony, or 
 rather, 1 could do so if I cared.' 
 
 • < 'an and could are different tenses.' 
 
 ' If I have not done so it was out of consideration for you. 
 If I do not do so it is because there is nothing to be gained 
 by it.' 
 
 1 Oh, pray do not consider me ! ' 
 
 ' I acted on your father's request. There was not any 
 advantage to myself to be reaped by establishing my 
 marriage, and it would have brought distre.ss on Mr. 
 Pamphlet, and pain and humiliation on yourself.' 
 
 1 You were mighty kind ! ' 
 
 1 And even now I could satisfy you if you wished. I have 
 Lambert's letters to me.' 
 
 Mrs. Jane flared up. 'For Heaven's sake 1 He is dead. 
 What may have been your relations to one another in Malta 
 or Corfu, or wherever it was you caught him, poor inex- 
 perienced fellow, in your deadly toils, I do not wish to ask. 
 1 a- ill not inquire. There are certain poisonous combinations 
 which it is deadly to look into. I do not know what 
 Lambert may have written when young and foolish and 
 without strong principles ; what I do know is that after he 
 became my husband he was a God-fearing and a moral and 
 honourable man.' 
 
 1 There is one thing more,' said Theresa, her heart beating 
 with indignation. ' I have reason to suppose that he did sign 
 a paper that practically admitted his marriage to me ' 
 
 'I know what you mean,' interrupted Jane. 'Physic 
 spoke about it to me. That man is a scoundrel. He is 
 capable of anything. I can quite believe that a will has been 
 forged for the sake of whitewashing Lambert's temporary 
 connection with yourself. Physic hinted something about 
 this : it was to restore Curgenven to me and my daughter on 
 the condition that we admitted that I — that she — I cannot 
 even speak it. The thing was too infamous. Physic owes me 
 a spite. He has done it out of malice, and perhaps in con- 
 nivance with other interested parties.' 
 
 ' Who could they be 1 Not I ; for if such a will existed 
 and were proved, Percival and I would be thrown into poverty 
 again.' 
 
 1 Oh, I don't stoop to inquire who contrived the matter. I 
 do not care to unravel these uxysteries.'
 
 INVENI PORTUM. 225 
 
 1 And do you mean to say that you would refuse reinstate- 
 ment in Curgenven Manor at such a price ? ' 
 
 ' Most certainly. I will never connive at villainy. There 
 goes the gong : I must to lunch.' 
 
 ' Then friendship you cannot give me ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot do the impossible. Between me and you there is 
 a great gulf fixed, and we cannot shake hands across it.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 INVENI PORTUM. 
 
 Theresa remained in the churchyard ; Jane Curgenven had 
 closed the gate in her face, and had gone off to her lunch. 
 
 She seated herself wearily on a flat tombstone. The clerk 
 had departed, and none of the congregation remained around 
 the church. They had all gone to their midday meal. The 
 yard was therefore as solitary as it was likely to be at 
 midnight. 
 
 Theresa's brain was on fire, and a load of lead was on her 
 heart. With her lay the decision of a momentous question — 
 whether the will of the late Captain Lambert Curgenven was 
 to be produced or not. 
 
 She understood the reason why Physic had objected to her 
 consulting her husband. Percival was a man to decide 
 offhand on any question by its superficial merits. On the 
 surface, unquestionably, this case was simple enough. A 
 will had been made, and therefore ought to be produced. To 
 make away with such a document was felony, involving penal 
 servitude. But what might be criminal by law need not be 
 wrong in morals. There was much below the surface qualify- 
 ing this question and making it difficult of solution, because 
 complicating it with obligations to the wishes of living persons 
 and with consideration for the memory of the dead. 
 
 If that will were to make its appearance, it would act as a 
 bomb of dynamite thrown into Curgenven, carrying disaster 
 and dismay on all sides. 
 
 Theresa had no great pity for Jane Curgenven, and no 
 overwhelming regard for her father, but she knew that no 
 
 Q
 
 226 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 blow could .search out and cut to the quick their self-esteem, 
 which was their prevailing if not their only passion, more 
 cruelly than were she by means of this document to expose 
 the real position Jane Pamphlet had held, and to deprive her 
 of every title to be called by any other than her maiden 
 name, and to bastardize her child. How terrible for the 
 mother to have to inform her daughter that they could no 
 Longer hear the name that they had worn with such con- 
 fidence ! Not at any price, not certainly at I hat of reinstate- 
 ment in Curgenven, would Jane submit to such shame. To 
 be Miss Jane Pamphlet, squiress of Curgenven, would be to 
 her worse than to have to fly to a desert island and there 
 hide her dishonour. 
 
 Notwithstanding the rudeness, the unkindness Theresa had 
 encountered, she shrank from causing Jane so much distress ; 
 she was unable to refuse a certain amount of admiration for 
 the resolution with which this woman shut her ears and blinded 
 her eyes to unpleasant facts, and by denying them thought that 
 she deprived them of their right to be facts. But all Jane's 
 resistance and pertinacity in refusing to see what was un- 
 pleasant could avail her nothing were the will established. It 
 would be as the mistress, and not as the wife, of the late 
 Captain Lambert that Jane could alone inherit Curgenven, at 
 the same time that she resigned to the woman she looked upon 
 as the dirt under her feet the honourable title of wife which 
 she had so long borne. 
 
 Theresa, moreover, pitied the old rector, who had stalked so 
 complacently on his stilts, a head taller morally than every one 
 else ; pitied him when she thought how the truth, if made 
 public, would bear him down. The truth he had been obliged 
 to admit, and for the sake of concealment had been ready to 
 waive all claims of his daughter and grand-daughter on the 
 Curgenven estate. But he might admit it to his own heart and 
 remain on his stilts. If it became public he would come down, 
 stilts and all. 
 
 Theresa thought also of her husband, of the ease and happi- 
 ness that seemed to enhalo his later life. In the vigour of 
 youth, in the strength of manhood he had made a botch of life ; 
 was it likely that he would be able to earn his living when he 
 had turned the corner of his career? The desultory, erratic 
 habit was inbred. He had not, under stress of necessity, been 
 able to buckle to serious and steady work in the first half of 
 life ; was he likely to do so, to reveal energy and show per- 
 severance, in the second stage ?
 
 INVENI PORTUM. 227 
 
 She thought of Justinian. The boy had had his education 
 neglected. His father had made biui as himself, or had done 
 his best to do so. A boy of generous disposition and warm 
 heart ; one who was cut out by nature to be a good country 
 squire whose object in life is sport. But he was fit for notbing 
 else. If forced to work for his living, there was every chance 
 of his making as little way as had his father. But then 
 Justinian was young, and not completely formed ; thei'e might 
 be entertained hope for such, and Theresa did not spend much 
 thought on him. 
 
 It was otherwise with the memory of the testator. Was she 
 to reveal him to the world in an ugly light 1 Was it not her 
 duty as his widow to be careful of his reputation, to save him 
 from becoming the topic of conversation in every house between 
 Liskeard and Launcestonl What sort of comment would be 
 passed on him 1 What could men and women say of the man 
 who had so lightly deserted one wife, and without taking proper 
 pains to ascertain whether she were alive or dead, had married 
 another, and that the daughter of the most highly respected 
 clergyman in the district 1 What could be said of the man who 
 left the hateful secret to be disclosed after his death, because he 
 was too great a coward to face the consequences of its being 
 known whilst he was alive? 
 
 Theresa had little doubt in her mind that Lambert had com- 
 mitted suicide. No one else thought so save Physic. But were 
 the truth to be known about his relations to her and Jane, 
 every one would conclude that he had shot himself to escape 
 exposure. He had shot himself. His punishment had fallen 
 on him. Theresa could enter into his mind and weigh the agony 
 of remorse, the doubt, the desperation that tore him, when he 
 ran into the bungalow, took down the pistol, loaded it, and 
 applied the muzzle to his head. He had suffered the penalty 
 of his acts. Let that suffice. Let his memory remain unsullied 
 by any act of hers. Let her stand between him and the 
 revelation that would blast his name. 
 
 And, lastly, she thought of herself. 
 
 A qualm came over her. She had striven to obtain her 
 livelihood, and had met with as little success as Percival, who 
 had lounged. She had become over-wearied with the incessant 
 strain, never pretermitted for a day, the strain to hold her 
 own, to maintain her proper level, and not to sink exhausted on 
 the ground, lay her head in the dust, and let the heart out of 
 utter weariness cease to perform its function. At length, in ripe 
 years, she had been able to seat herself and look forward to rest.
 
 228 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 There was a picture that she knew well, and understood as 
 perhaps did few others. It is in Here's Wandering Jew. The 
 unfortunate cobbler was doomed to walk till the Last Day. 
 Century after century passes, and night and ilay the weary man 
 trudges on. Others may sit down, but not he. Others may lay 
 their heads on pillows and fall into dead sleep, but not he. The 
 shoes wear out and re-form on his blistered feet. His muscle.-: 
 are knotted with cramp from over-strain, but may not be 
 relaxed. His eyes are as lead in their sockets, but may not be 
 (dosed. Then he hears the blast of the trumpet of the Arch 
 angel, and at once he sits down and proceeds to kick off his shoes. 
 This is what the artist represents. He has seen into the heart 
 of the utterly fagged-out man. His first, nay, his only thought, 
 at the peal of the trumpet is to sit and be rid of his boots. 
 And Theresa had been on the trudge for nineteen years, and 
 was wearied to the death by it. She had found at length a seat 
 and rest, but only for a moment ; the harsh voice of Physic had 
 bidden her tramp on. But not for ever ; surely there remained 
 but one struggle more, one on which she had never reckoned, 
 and after that she would have nothing more to fear. 
 
 She must find three hundred pounds at once ; and she had 
 nothing of her own. In his wonted careless manner Percival 
 had made no settlement on her at his marriage, he had neither 
 promised her anything of her own whilst under coverture, nor 
 assured her anything after his death. He had put his hand 
 into his pocket, or had drawn a cheque when she had desired 
 to buy anything ; but that very morning in church Theresa 
 had felt the awkwardness of having no purse and allowance of 
 her own, for there had been a collection on behalf of some 
 charity, and she had had no money to put into the plate. 
 
 She would have to obtain the three hundred pounds from 
 Percival without being able to tell him for what she required 
 the sum. She shrank from asking this ; she was uncertain 
 how he would take it; she feared lest it should occasion a 
 difference, lest he should refuse her the money, or lest he 
 should give it with reluctance and suspicion. It was a large 
 sum to require without her being able to explain her need 
 for it. 
 
 As she mused, her tinker unconsciously traced the letters 
 engraved in the slate of the tombstone on which she was 
 seated. She now looked at the inscription. It ran : 
 
 Iiiveni portnm ; Bpea et Fortuna valete; 
 Nil inilii vobiscum ; ludite nunc alioa.
 
 INVENI PORTUM. 229 
 
 She was a sufficient scholar to make out the sense. What ! 
 was the grave the only harbour of refuge for the storm- 
 tossed 1 Were hope and fortune making their sport of her 
 for a brief period, then to desert her? 
 
 She put her hand to her brow, that was throbbing as if it 
 would burst. Then Percival, who had approached unobserved, 
 unheard, over the turf of the churchyard, said : ' My dear, 
 why have you not come to lunch ] By Jove ! it is new to 
 me to say " lunch." I have been accustomed to dine at one 
 o'clock, and have cold something and cheese in the evening 
 for supper. Bathsheba's supreme effort was always for the 
 midday meal.' 
 
 1 1 did not consider I should be wanted,' said Theresa. 
 
 1 My dear, you are always in request when not present — 
 not by me only. Justinian has been calling out for you. Are 
 you not very well 1 ' 
 
 I No, Percy, not that, but worried.' 
 
 ' Gracious ! what have you to worry you 1 ' 
 
 ' The usual worry. What troubled you in old days.' 
 
 ' I was always short of money,' answered Percival readily. 
 
 ; But that can't fret you now.' 
 
 ' It does ; I have nothing. There was a collection in the 
 
 church this morning, and I had not a penny in my pocket.' 
 ' Why did you not ask me before ? ' 
 
 I I did not know there would be a collection.' 
 
 ' It doesn't matter. I'll send five bob to the old pomposity. 
 What was it for 1 ' 
 
 ' I — I really do not recollect.' 
 
 ' It does not matter. I'll send the five bob.' 
 
 I Yes, Percy, but that does not satisfy me. It is very 
 awkward for me to be without cash.' 
 
 ' What do you want, T. ? ' 
 
 Percival Curgenven put his hand into his pocket and pulled 
 out a handful of copper and silver. 
 
 I I say, I have no gold here. But I can make up a sove- 
 reign in silver. And that will be all the better, T., because 
 then you will have plenty of small change.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Percival, but that does not exactly meet my 
 requirements.' She rose from the tomb and laid her hand 
 on his arm. • I want more than that. It seems mean of 
 me to ask it. I owe you everything, dear ; you have been so 
 good to me.' 
 
 • Oh, stuff ! it is I who am laid under obligation.' 
 
 ' Well, there are circumstances that oblige me to ask you
 
 230 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 to make me an allowance. May I ask you to give me a cer 
 tain sum, to deal with just as I like, to spend or to hoard as 
 suits my fancy ; to go to when I want something very much, 
 without having to come with the hill to you? ' 
 
 'Certainly. But don't bother about that now.' 
 
 4 Yes, Percy, I must. You see I may need money at any 
 moment. To-morrow is .Monday. Blight 1 have my allow- 
 ance to-morrow in a cheque? ' 
 
 ' Certainly you shall. Come along to feed. There is some 
 very nice lobster sahid, uncommonly well made. Our new 
 cook is a first-rater.' 
 
 ' Then I may have the cheque to-morrow V 
 
 ' Yes, T. ; for how much I I dare say I could get you some 
 gold by scraping about, if you want ready money.' 
 
 ' I should like ' Then her heart failed her, and with 
 
 her heart her powers. She sank back on the tombstone. 
 The sum was so great. She was sick at heart. 
 
 ' My dear husband,' she said in a timid voice, ' do you recall 
 what I said when you proposed to me ] I said then that it 
 was possible, situated as I was, that certain persons might 
 turn up and assert claims on me— — ' 
 
 I What, some relations have manifested themselves ? Where 
 are they 1 Ask them to lunch. Leave all that to me.' 
 
 I I cannot, Percy. I warned you then, but I did not then 
 think it could happen, but what I feared has come about, 
 though in a most unforeseen manner. I must have three 
 hundred pounds to satisfy some one who otherwise could cause 
 both of us great annoyance.' 
 
 ' He has begun at once, upon my word he has ! But don't 
 let these fellows bother you. Pass them on to me. I'll satisfy 
 them with my walking-stick.' 
 
 1 No, no, Percy. This is a real claim. I cannot explain its 
 nature to you. I cannot tell you any particulars about the 
 person who makes the demand. All I can say is that, unless I 
 find the money, I shall be put to great unhappiness that may 
 be permanent.' 
 
 ' You shall have the money ; but it is a large sum.' 
 
 ' And then you will not inquire what becomes of it.' 
 
 Percival was evidently uneasy. 
 
 ' Is this the first and last demand 1 ' 
 
 ' It is the first ; I hope, I do hope it will go no further.' 
 
 ' I'll make it four hundred,' said her husband ; ' at any 
 rate for this year ; then there is a hundred for yourself over. 
 But, T., don't let this be tried again, or 1 shall have to inter-
 
 CIVILIZATION AND SAVAGERY. 231 
 
 fere. There is no satisfying bloodsuckers. Is it some one 
 who pretends cousinship ? ' 
 
 1 1 said I could tell you nothing.' 
 
 'AH serene. I won't ask. But, I say, T., I hope the lobster 
 salad will be as good when we get to it as it was when I 
 started after you.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 CIVILIZATION AND SAVAGERY. 
 
 After this scene in the churchyard, Theresa was aware of 
 a slight diminution in cordiality in her husband. He was 
 probably unconscious of it himself, but the freshness, the 
 frankness of confidence between him and his wife were gone. 
 He endeavoured to be cheery and amiable as usual, but there 
 was evident to her eye an effort on his part to seem as he 
 had been. A jar in the perfect harmony that had reigned 
 between them had taken place, a drop of bitterness had fallen 
 into the cup out of which both drank. A little germ of sus- 
 picion had entered into his heart, there to ferment. A ten- 
 dency to decline was noticeable in the barometer that marked 
 even weather. Theresa was alive to this, and unhappy. A 
 fire burnt in her heart, a fire of resentment against Physic, 
 who was the occasion. He had come to mar her happiness, 
 which had otherwise been complete. She might have been 
 content, had she felt confident that the three hundred pounds 
 she had obtained for him were sure to suffice, and that he 
 would no further press for money, but her fear was that this 
 was but the beginning of a series of exactions, and that the 
 result would be esti-angement between her husband and her- 
 self. Percival would reasonably ask for whom and for what 
 purpose these demands were made, and if she refused to tell 
 him, and refuse she must, he would be filled with vague and 
 disquieting suspicions that would destroy confidence between 
 them, and seriously jeopardize the continuance of his affection. 
 
 And the man who was bringing this blight on her life was 
 Physic. Her bosom heaved, her heart swelled. She clenched 
 her hands. She hated him. She had been walking through
 
 232 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 the grounds, now she opened the wicket-gate and went out on 
 the moor, and was suddenly aware of a girl who was dodging 
 among the trees and behind the hedges. 
 
 Theresa halted in her walk and watched the girl, who, when 
 she saw she was observed, came from her hiding and saunt- 
 ered along the down, then stopped and turned to see whether 
 Theresa wen- still looking ai her. When she was aware that 
 she continued to engage attention, she turned abruptly and 
 came towards her. 
 
 Theresa was struck by the easy grace of the girl, by the 
 elasticity of her tread, the flexibility of her upright body, and 
 the beauty of her flowing red-gold hair. There was a sullen, 
 peevish expression in her handsome face. She stepped up to 
 Theresa and said : ' Why do you look at me 1 What do you 
 want ? Are you his new mother ? ' 
 
 Theresa smiled : ' I think I have heard of you. My 
 husband, Mr. Curgenven, has mentioued your name. You 
 are Esther Morideg.' 
 
 1 Yes, I be. Is there any hurt in that 1 ' 
 
 1 None at all. 1 was very sorry to hear that you had been 
 turned out of your cottage by Mr. Physic. Have you found 
 a new home 1 ' 
 
 1 No. We nre in a linney, a bit.' 
 
 ' I will come and see you some day, and perhaps I may be 
 able to take your grandmother something that will help to 
 make her comfortable.' 
 
 1 Oh, gran'fer and gran'mother don't want nothing but to 
 be let alone. Us was well enough till Physic came and turned 
 out we. I say, be you the squire's new wife ? ' 
 
 'Yes, I am Mrs. Curgenven.' 
 
 ' I say, where is the young squire 1 Why ha'n't he been 
 nigh us 1 I want to see'n, I do, cruel bad.' 
 
 ' What for? Is there anything I can do for you 1 ' 
 
 * You ? No.' 
 
 'Then why do you want him?' 
 
 The girl looked irresolutely at her, then dropped her eyes. 
 Sin- caught her skirt and played with it, plucking with both 
 hands and shuffling with her feet in the short grass. 
 
 ' I do want to see'n, I do.' 
 
 ' For what reason ?' 
 
 The girl stamped impatiently. ' I ain't got no reasons. I 
 han't see'n for four days — there — wi'n't that do 1 1 reckon 
 he's been to the pass'nage, he has; he've been wi' Miss Alice, 
 sure enough.' She raised her head, her cheeks were on tire.
 
 CIVILIZATION AND SAVAGERY. 233 
 
 ' Well, I reckon and so he ort, but for all I want to see'n 
 cruel bad, I do ; so there now ! ' 
 
 ' Esther,' said Theresa, ' would you like to come with me 
 and see Curgenven house and gardens 1 I will show them 
 to you.' 
 
 ' Yes, I would. That other, the ou'd squiress, her turned 
 me out ; her wouldn't let me have tea wi' the childer, nor see 
 nort. Her were a hard 'un.' 
 
 ' Then come with me, Esther ; I will show you everything.' 
 
 ' Is he at home ] ' 
 
 ' If you mean Mr. Justinian,' said Theresa, becoming more 
 grave, ' he is not.' 
 
 The girl hesitated, but finally resolved to accept the offer. 
 1 Come along then,' she said, with a swing of her body in the 
 direction of the house. 
 
 The thoughts of Theresa were for awhile diverted from 
 her own troubles. This wild moor-girl interested her. She 
 also was a victim to Physic's unscrupulousness. As these 
 two walked side by side, Theresa knew that she was herself 
 menaced by that man with the like treatment that had been 
 administered to Esther. One had been driven out of her 
 home, the other was threatened with expulsion. The thought 
 of this drew Theresa to her strange associate. But another 
 consideration urged her to make Esther's acquaintance. Per- 
 cival had told her how he had come upon Justinian with the 
 girl at the cross on the moor-edge, and of his own uneasiness 
 on that head. 
 
 Theresa and Esther were both waifs out of the evenly flow- 
 ing stream of common social life. Neither had much to boast 
 of in parentage. Both suffered from not belonging to the 
 great bulk of settled humanity that knows all about itself 
 and its belongings on all sides, that has grown on one spot, 
 and has come to share the opinions and prejudices and likings 
 of suiTounding humanity, as insects and birds take the colours 
 of the foliage in the midst of which they dwell. Esther in 
 her own sphere was as much shunned and despised as Theresa 
 knew she would be in the sphere into which she had been 
 taken up. She felt a pity for the girl, and kindly interest in 
 her, and Theresa looked at Esther's face with curiosity as she 
 walked at her side. 
 
 It was a handsome face, with boldly cut features, a broad 
 forehead, with fine hazel eyes under the arched brows ; the 
 mouth was singularly delicate and the chin fine for one in 
 her class of life. The face was one of generous impulse ; of
 
 234 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 strength and weakness in equal combination, of defiance and 
 
 fear, of rudeness and refinement. 
 
 * I say,' the girl turned on Theresa, ' do'y like him now ? ' 
 'Whom? Mr. Justinian ? Indeed I do. I like him very 
 
 much. 1 
 
 •There now,' said Esther, with light flashing in her face, 
 'I be main glad o' that. You don't seem such a had 'un. I 
 reckon he were a little out about his father for marrying you. 
 But I told'n he couldn't ha' everything he liked. I reckon he 
 likes you now he's come to know you ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, I think so.' 
 
 1 There, I be glad o' that.' She took Theresa's hand in hers 
 and patted it with the other. ' He and Miss Alice be my best 
 friends; and I reckon, if you behave yourself, you shall be 
 another. I likes your face, I do.' 
 
 1 Thank you, Esther,' said Theresa with a smile. ' Here we 
 are at the house. Come in.' 
 
 ' No ; there now, I be 'most ashamed.' The girl hung back. 
 ' It be so terrible fine.' 
 
 ' There is no one to alarm you. You and I can go through 
 the rooms together. We shall find no one there ; Mr. Curgen- 
 ven and Master Justinian have gone out shooting together.' 
 
 The girl looked at the house with mistrust. She wished to 
 see the interior, and yet was shy of entering. She was con- 
 scious of the incongruity of her own appearance in rough 
 homespun with the refinement and beauty of the interior. 
 
 When she entered the hall she kicked off her shoes, afraid 
 to walk in them on the polished oak floor. She put her hands 
 behind her back, and looked at the walls hung with family 
 portraits, and at the flowers on a stand in the middle. 
 
 ' Who be all they 1 ' she asked, with her eyes on the 
 pictures. 
 
 'Those are Curgenvens for two hundred yean and more, 
 fathers and grandfathers, back and back, when the dress was 
 very different from what it is now.' 
 
 ' I never knowed who my father was,' said Esther. 
 ' Nor do I who was mine,' said Theresa. 
 1 Now, you don't say so I ' The girl drew to the side of Mrs. 
 Curgenven. 
 
 Theresa led Esther into the dining room, where the table 
 was spread with white linen, and glittered with glass and 
 silver. The girl looked steadily at the table for a while, then 
 went to it and took up a dessert spoon. ' I reckon this be 
 silver,' she saiJ. ' Why, what a lot of shillings be in her !'
 
 CIVILIZATION AND SAVAGERY. 235 
 
 ' Yes ; I dare say ten or twelve.' 
 
 ' "What do you have 'em about for 1 B'an't y' afeard folks 
 '11 steal 'em!' 
 
 ' Oh no, not here.' 
 
 ' I would hide 'em up the chimley, under the drexil ' (thres- 
 hold). ' Don't y' now let ou'd Physic see 'em, or he'd never 
 let y' be easy till he'd gotten them all. He's as great a 
 thief, for certain sure, as any o' them chaps as be shut up in 
 Bodmiu gaol.' 
 
 ' Would you like anything to eat, Esther t I can order 
 you something directly.' 
 
 ' No, thanky', I couldn't eat here, I'd not know how to do 
 it wi' all these grand things about. I couldn't tell what I 
 had i' my mouth when my eyes was so full of strange sights.' 
 
 ' Then come with me and you shall see the drawing-room.' 
 
 ' And what be that for ? Sure you've more rooms than 
 you can want. Why should you not sit and talk and do 
 what you've a mind to do here after you've done eating ? I 
 can't see why you mun ha' a different chamber for everything 
 you do — one to read in, one to talk in, one to eat in, and one 
 to play in. I grant y' its reasonable to have one to sleep in 
 as is not the same. But all the rest is waste and nonseose. 
 Ay ! and you must have a house for smoking 'baccy in too — 
 the bungalow. 'Tis foolishness. I'm glad I'm not Jan 
 Jeaks ' (snail), to hev to carry such a house as this on my 
 back. I don't know as it's much to make one happy to have 
 a house. I've not got one ; some Physic may come and turn 
 you out. If you've none, why you're free as the air, and 
 nobody can't take nothing from you, like the horniwinks ' 
 (plovers). 
 
 ' How would you like to live in such a house as this ? ' 
 
 'I could not live in it ; I should die. It's all very well 
 to look at now and again, but to live in — bless you, I couldn't 
 do it ! ' 
 
 Theresa took the girl into other parts of the house, and 
 then said to her : ' Now, what more would you like ? ' 
 
 ' Look'y here now ! ' said Esther, and drew open her throat, 
 displaying her coral necklace. ' Have you aught like that % ' 
 
 1 1 will show you my jewellery — yet not mine — the family 
 jewels. W T hen I am dead they will go to the wife of 
 Justinian.' 
 
 She led the girl up the stately Queen Anne staircase, with 
 full-length portraits on it of Curgenvens in powder and wigs, 
 in blue velvet and crimson velvet, of the ladies of the house
 
 236 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 with their hair low over their eyes, in shot satins, with pearls 
 about their long necks, and clogs at their sides. 
 
 'These,' said Theresa, turning on a landing, 'these are the 
 wives of the Curgenvens, grand and beautiful ladies who never 
 let the sun look on their faces unveil, d.' 
 
 She conducted Esther to her bedroom, opened a cabinet and 
 produced a jewel-case, unlocked it, and let the evening sun 
 glitter on the diamonds. 
 
 The girl took up a necklet, and in speechless admiration let 
 it twinkle about her fingers. Then she was shown another of 
 sapphires; rings and bracelets, and brooches and tiaras. Theresa 
 removed her ha tand put on some of the jewellery, that the girl 
 might understand how it was worn. 
 
 Then suddenly Esther put her hand to her own coral neck- 
 lace and tore the string so that the coral grains fell about the 
 floor. ' It's just naught at all,' she said. 
 
 Theresa knelt and began to collect the strewn members of 
 the necklace. ' You are wrong— altogether wrong,' said she. 
 ' Esther, this coral looks charming on your pretty neck ; it 
 suits you admirably. But these diamonds and pearls would 
 make you ridiculous. You could not wear them.' 
 
 ' No ; I'd be a dressed-up monkey,' said the girl. 
 
 ' These will go to Justinian's wife, and will suit beautifully 
 her delicate skin and her refined beauty.' As There.sa spoke, 
 she felt over the floor for more pieces of coral. ' She will be a 
 lady like those you saw on the stairs. Some of these jewels 
 were worn by them, and suited them, as you could see in the 
 paintings. Justinian's wife will be painted some day in the 
 same style, and hung with the others. I dare say she will be 
 quite as noble and lovely a lady as any of them. She will be 
 verv happy in this grand house, and will know exactly what 
 to do in it — in each of the rooms ; know all as a matter of 
 com-se, because she was bred to it. And she will play the 
 piano and make sweet music ' 
 
 ' Why are you saying all this ] ' asked Esther uneasily. 
 
 • Esther, my dear,' continued Theresa, without noticing her 
 interruption, ' it would be dreadful to Justinian to lose all this, 
 to be poor, to have to live in a linnoy, to eat without silver 
 forks, and lie in fern and heather, and not have servants to 
 wait on him. It would be as strange to him, such a life as 
 yours, as it would he strange to you to live such a life as his.' 
 ' I reckon it would.' 
 
 The girl was turning a pearl necklace about her brown bare 
 arm.
 
 CIVILIZATION AND SAVAGERY. 237 
 
 ' See ! ' she said ; ' don't this look comical ? ' 
 
 ' It does. But are you attending to what I say 1 ' 
 
 Esther laid the string of pearls aside in the case. ' There,' 
 she said, ' lock it all up again. I've seen enough of them. I 
 don't want to see them no more.' 
 
 ' I will do so, and put them aside for Justinian's wife, as I 
 am not likely to wear them. I was not born to such a place 
 as this, and so I cannot wear them. Now, Esther, tell me 
 the truth. Why were you hiding among the trees when I 
 came through the park ? For whom were you looking 1 On 
 whom waiting 1 ' 
 
 The girl hung her head and turned it aside. 
 
 'You need not answer me,' said Theresa; 'I know. You 
 were hoping to meet Justinian.' 
 
 ' If I were, there's no harm in that ; ' with a toss of the hair 
 and a slight tone of defiance. 
 
 1 It will not do, dear Esther ; indeed it will not. You never 
 can properly be Justinian's companion. How can you, when 
 he lives in such a house as this, and you, as you say, in an 
 old stable 1 ' 
 
 The girl put up her arms and dropped her face between 
 them. 
 
 • It is this that I wished to say to you,' pursued Theresa, 
 ' that you two can be friends only at a distance. You see now 
 that it is not possible for you to be his wife. You never could 
 shape yourself to live in this place. On the other hand, you 
 could not drag him away to your wretched hovel. He would 
 be infinitely miserable there. And, Esther, you can be a friend 
 to the young squire only at a long distance. Do you under- 
 stand 1 I speak seriously. There is one tiling to a woman 
 above everything precious, her honour. Treasure that, dear 
 child. Never risk that. Lose that, and though the noblest 
 in the land you are vile as dirt. Preserve it, and you hold up 
 your head as high as a princess. I am anxious for you, I am 
 anxious for him. He is generous ; he is careless. You are 
 generous and inconsiderate ' 
 
 The girl threw herself passionately on the floor as she would 
 have done on her native heath, and still burying her face in 
 her arms, and turning it to the carpet, sobbed : ' I love him, I 
 do ; I does I '
 
 338 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 CHATTER XXXVIII. 
 
 TRYING THE PISTd.. 
 
 Thekksa had been speaking, whilst engaged in collecting 
 the coral beads, kneeling on the carpet. When Bbe .-aw the 
 girl fling herself down, she went to her, on her knees, and 
 seated herself beside her. The corals she had collected were 
 in one palm. She laid the other hand on the ruddy golden 
 head that was rocking and tossing, and gently stroked it. 
 
 1 Esther, my dear, you must he reasonable. You love the 
 sun, but if you climbed into heaven to it, you would be burnt 
 in its fire. You love the moon, but if you were to drag it 
 down to your little hut, its rays would be quenched, it would 
 turn black as a cinder in your hands. You know that you 
 never, never, never can be Justinian's wife.' 
 
 The girl, speaking into the pile of the carpet through her 
 fingers, said, ' I know that. Didn't I join their hands in the 
 Tolmaen 1 ' 
 
 ' I do not understand you, Esther.' 
 
 ' Didn't I take him and make him hold Miss Alice's hand 
 through the holed stone 1 and that's a surer marriage than 
 any parson can bind. I did it — I — and what I did I cannot 
 undo.' 
 
 ' I do not understand about that,' said Theresa, raising her 
 hand for a moment from the girl's head, that had ceased its 
 rocking motion under the gentle pressure. ' I know nothing 
 about this holed stone, my dear, but of this I am very sure, 
 that you and Justinian are too wide apart ever with honour, 
 and without shame and misery, to be nearer each other than 
 you are now. So try to be a sensible girl, and conquer this 
 feeling in your heart that can only make you wretched, and 
 which, if not driven away, may be the occasion of such disgrace 
 to Justinian as will destroy his prospects in life.' 
 
 ' She at the " Cornish Chough " said that.' Esther raised 
 her head and turned it. 
 
 ' And she, whoever she was, said what is true. Will you 
 listen patiently to me, child 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes, I'll try.' 
 
 Esther lifted herself on one arm, and turned to Theresa. 
 
 ' Why did you take your hand off me 1 Are you angry 1 ' 
 
 ' No, indeed I am not.'
 
 TRYING THE PISTOL. 239 
 
 The evening light, shining through the window that com- 
 manded the western sky, fell over the girl. The whole sky 
 was in flame above the set sun, and in the flame were bars of 
 cloud as pure gold gleaming with intense brilliancy. The 
 amber glare from the sky pouring in at the window suffused 
 the girl on the floor. In her tossing, her hair had become 
 untied ; it fell in a shining flood over her shoulder, and the 
 arm that stayed her up. 
 
 Theresa put out her hand and drew the young head to her, 
 and laid it on her lap. 
 
 1 There, my dear, will that please you ? How hot your 
 head is ! ' 
 
 ' Go on,' said Esther, ' say what you will.' 
 
 ' I have not much to say,' continued Theresa, ' but what I 
 say I am sure, if you have — and I know you have it — an 
 honest and true heart — I am sure you say to yourself in your 
 own heart. You love Justinian, and he likes you after a 
 fashion. So do I, I like you, I like you very much. So does 
 Alice, so must all who come to know you.' 
 
 ' You are wrong — folks hate me.' 
 
 ' Surely not hate you.' 
 
 ' They don't like me. No mothers '11 let their children 
 come with me. No maids '11 ever play wi' me. I've no 
 friends.' 
 
 ' They do not understand you. You are a little wild for 
 them. But that is not what I am speaking about. What I 
 was about to say was this, did you ever hear the story of the 
 man who married a cat 1 ' 
 
 'A cat! No.' 
 
 ' He had a beautiful tabby, and she was a capital mouser. 
 She was such a beautiful pmss, with such white soft fur on her 
 paws, and purred so sweetly, that the man asked Juno to turn 
 her into a woman.' 
 
 'Who's Juno V 
 
 ' Well, we will say a wise woman.' 
 
 ■ Go on. Did she do it V 
 
 « Yes.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Esther musingly, ' that wise women their- 
 selves turn o' night-times when they likes into hares. There 
 was one out Altarnun way. Her went about all over the 
 country to night-times, after dimmets ' (twilight). ' But one 
 night her got caught i' Squire Rodd's trap — set by the keeper. 
 And next morning what did he find in his trap but a woman's 
 hand ! And he went round axing wiiat she-folks was ill.
 
 210 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 And when he came to Genefer Carmine's cottage, her ou'd man 
 — silly fool — let out as her wore i' bed wi' a bad arm. Ihen 
 the keejier ho forced hia way upstair, and found the ou'd 
 woman i' bed, and ho pu'd down the clothes, and sure enough, 
 her had lost a hand.' 
 
 ' You are interrupting my story.' 
 
 'Sure and sartain I was. There, go on, and put your hand 
 over my lips to make me hou'd my tongue.' 
 
 ' Well, Esther, so this wise woman, Juno, she did what she 
 was asked. She turned the cat into a beautiful young wife. 
 The man was very pleased, and he had the table spread for a 
 great wedding feast, and lie invited all his friends to it, to see 
 what a lovely wife he had. Well, they came and made merry, 
 and praised her very highly. All went on very well till a 
 mouse ran through the room. Then up sprang the lady, and 
 the table-cloth caught in her dress, and she jumped away and 
 ran after the mouse, pulling the table-cloth and all the glasses 
 and plates, and dishes and bottles, and pies and cakes, off the 
 table in a smash and confusion on the floor. But she did not 
 care ; she had caught and was eating the mouse.' 
 
 ' Oh, jimmery-chry I ' Esther burst out laughing ; then slowly 
 rose to her knees and stood up. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said, ' I reckon it's a right sort o' a tale for me, 
 and I knows it is so. There, gi'e me my corals, I'll string 
 them again, and I promise you I'll put the thoughts of him 
 out o' my heart as much as I can. I've been silly, I know. 
 I wouldn't go after a mouse — no ! But if I were at a great 
 feast, with grand silver and goold plates, and knives and forks, 
 and glass and gran' folks, ladies and gentles, like as there in 
 them picturs on the stairs, and talkin' about 1 don't know 
 what, and if I was to hear a horniwink ' (plover) ' whistle out- 
 side o' the winder, I'd up — I know — just like that lady, and 
 away I'd go out o' the winder and away after the horniwink, 
 and to the moors and over Trewortha — and never come back 
 there no more.' 
 
 1 That is a brave and good girl. I thought you would do 
 what is right, and I am not deceived.' 
 
 Esther turned sharply and looked with brightened face 
 into Theresa's eyes and smiled, two deep dimples forming at 
 the corners of her mouth. Then she caught up Theresa's hand 
 and kissed it passionately. 
 
 1 Now,' said she, ' show me the bungalow, as they ca' it, wi' 
 all them queer things inside as I've heard tell on, that the 
 captain made.'
 
 TRYING THE PISTOL. 241 
 
 ' I will cheerfully show you what is there. But some of the 
 contrivances no longer work, or I do not understand how to 
 wind them up, and some have been removed.' 
 
 The girl f listened up her hair, and followed her guide down 
 the great staircase. On the landing they passed a maid-ser- 
 vant, who looked with surprise and disgust at the half-savage 
 girl, the grand-daughter of the white-witch, and she stood 
 well back against the wall, not so much out of deference to 
 her mistress as to avoid the touch of the coarse clothes of 
 Esther as she brushed by. In the hall was the footman, and 
 he also stood aside and stared at the girl with insolence and 
 disdain. What right had she, from off the moors, to be in the 
 house % What could Mrs. Curgenven mean by letting her in, 
 by taking her up-stairs 1 ? There were queer tales about the 
 mistress — that she'd been a sort of a governess, or goodness 
 knew what. John Thomas could believe anything of her, now 
 that she so far forgot herself as to associate with, and bring 
 up the great staircase, such a creature as Esther Morideg. 
 Birds of a feather fly together. You may know a person by 
 the company he or she keeps. Lor ! what be the world a-coming 
 to ? John Thomas was expected to go up and down the back- 
 staii s, and if the back-stairs was good enough for him, it was a 
 great deal too good for wild creatures off the moor. 
 
 Esther was quite conscious of the impression she wrought 
 on the two servants, and she breathed freer when she was out- 
 side the house. Theresa turned back to speak to the footman, 
 and require refreshments to be brought into the bungalow, 
 where she considered Esther would be more disposed to eat 
 than in the house. 
 
 In the bungalow, Theresa amused the girl with what pieces 
 of mechanism could be got to act, and then brought her into 
 the smoking-room, whither she had ordered a tray with rabbit- 
 pie, tart, and some cider to be brought. 
 
 Here she seated herself, and allowed Esther to look at the 
 weapons on the wall, the whips, spurs, fishing-rods, and spoils 
 of the chase. 
 
 1 Can you shoot 1 ' asked the girl, turning to Theresa, who 
 shook her head with a smile in response. 
 
 ' But I can,' said Esther. ' My gran'fer he's brave wi' his 
 gun, and I reckon I can bring down a woodcock as well as he. 
 But thickey little things — they be pisterns ' (pistols), ' I s'pose. 
 I never shot wi' such as they.' 
 
 She took down a pistol, cocked it, and let down the hammer 
 cautiously. She then took the ramrod — it was an old-fashioned 
 
 B
 
 242 MIIS. (TKCKXVKX. 
 
 pistol, not a breechloader — and tried whether the instrument 
 was loaded. Satisfied that it was not, she turned again to 
 Theresa, and in a coaxing tone said, ' Now do'y then let me 
 have a shot wi' she and try what her be like.' 
 
 ' So long as you do no mischief, I do not object.' 
 
 ' Where be the bullets 1 ' asked the girl. She had found the 
 gunpowder case and run a charge into the barrel. 
 
 Theresa opened a drawer, where were bullets, and wads, and 
 caps ; also in compartments the cartridges of various sizes for 
 breechloaders. 
 
 The girl at once fitted a bullet and put on a cap. Then she 
 threw open the window. 
 
 • Now, what shall I have a shot at ? ' she asked, looking out 
 into the park. ' Hish ! For sartain there be a hood wall ' (wood- 
 pecker) ' running up thickey oak tree. Do'y see 'n 1 Yonder. 
 I wonder if I can hit 'n.' 
 
 The girl raised the pistol and fired. 
 
 The bird flew away. 
 
 'I missed 'n,' said Esther. 'There, now, if it had been 
 gran'fer's ou'd gun I'd not ha' done that. Or, by golly I il it 
 had been Lawyer Physic standin' there, I dare take my oath 
 I'd ha' shot 'n.' 
 
 In the door, aghast, stood the footman with the tray. 
 
 Theresa made a sign to him to place the tray on the table 
 by the window. 
 
 1 Now, Esther, here is something better for you to do than to 
 shoot hoodwalls.' 
 
 • I did'n shoot 'n,' said the girl ; ' for one, I pitied the poor 
 bird ; for the other, I did'n understand a little pistern.' 
 
 She was loading again. 
 
 ' There,' said she, ' now you try. Have a shot and see if you 
 can do better nor me.' 
 
 1 No, thank you, Esther. I am quite sure I would fail more 
 completely than yourself. Come now, sit and eat and drink.' 
 
 4 When you're by yourself,' said the girl, 'try ; in a time or 
 two it will come. It would wi' me if I had thickey pistern to 
 practise wi'. There, I'll put 'n back i' her place. Mind now, 
 her's loadon. You can amuse yourself wi' she when you like, 
 and mebbe make a better shot nor I. Or,' she took down the 
 pistol again, ' might I have a shot at the footman there 1 ' 
 
 The man fled out of the smoking-room, ran back to the 
 house and to the servants' hall, as fast as his stockinged legs 
 could carry him.
 
 A NEW PROPOSAL. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A NEW PROPOSAL. 
 
 No ladies called on the new Mrs. Curgenven. Gentlemen 
 came to show courtesy to the squire, and clumsily apologized 
 for their wives. One had a bad cold ; another was visiting 
 friends in town ; the horses of several were indisposed ; 
 bereavement held others at home. 
 
 The rumour had circulated, whence and by whom started 
 none could say, that the new Mrs. Curgenven was of doubtful 
 character. It was asserted that she had been a ballet-dancer. 
 How the ladies who made this assertion came to hold that 
 opinion and formulate it is not easily explained, as none 
 of them knew anything whatever about Theresa's past life. 
 Moreover, such of their husbands as had seen her, had protested 
 that she was a perfect lady, of very charming manners and 
 engaging appearance. Perhaps it was this fact that went against 
 her. All the married ladies held as tenaciously as they did to the 
 Athanasian Creed, that their husbands were easily deluded by 
 pleasant features and a little flattery. Not one would allow 
 that her husband had discernment and good taste except in 
 that spasmodic moment when he made the choice of herself. 
 The more the gentlemen expatiated on the amiable manners, 
 the handsome face, the graceful courtesy of Mrs. Curgenven, 
 the more enrooted became the conviction in the bosoms of their 
 ladies that she was a designing and unprincipled woman. 
 That she was in bad form they concluded because she had 
 succeeded and displaced Mrs. Curgenven the dowager. Jane 
 was everything that society could desire : she was a woman of 
 irreproachable morals, of the most formed manners in the most 
 approved mould. She was a woman of sound sense and clear 
 understanding. She was a woman of whom everything was 
 known, from her birth till her bereavement. In every stage 
 of life she had behaved well. She had been excellent as a 
 hostess, admirable as a manageress of bazaars and charities ; 
 she had never said a word that was lacking in good feeling, 
 never done an act that was tactless. In her house, as wife, 
 mother, mistress, she was unapproachable. The praises of 
 Mrs. Jane Curgenven were sung on all sides over every 
 breakfast and dinner-table ; she was danced before the eyes of 
 sleepy husbands in curtain lectures, she was held up in the
 
 244 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 school-room to young girls entering on life to be admired and 
 striven after as a pattern, and everywhere and always the 
 laudation of Mrs. Lambert carried with it the sometimes tacit, 
 more often outspoken condemnation of Mrs. PercivaL The 
 very fact that there were two Mrs. Curgonvens of Curgenven 
 forced them into comparison with one another ; and when one 
 Mrs. Curgenven had the advantage of being a parson's 
 daughter, of having been known for many years to all the 
 aristocracy of the neighbourhood, and hugged to its bosom, 
 whereas the other Mrs. Curgenven had dropped suddenly from 
 the sky, or come up from the other place, and nothing was 
 known either of her origin or of her acquaintances ; then, 
 naturally enough, all the favour rolled into the scale of Jane, 
 and none was available to weight that of Theresa. 
 
 The latter was fully aware how matters stood. She had 
 waited in curiosity and hope for a week or two expecting 
 visitors, but as no ladies came, the consciousness was forced 
 upon her that society had pronounced against her. 
 
 Percival was impatient and angry. He could not bear in 
 silence the slight cast on his wife. He stormed and grumbled ; 
 he fretted and found fault. He rushed oil' to the rectory to 
 demand an explanation from Jane, but Jane declined to give him 
 any. He denounced her as having set the neighbours against 
 his wife. She repudiated the charge with indignation and with 
 justice. She had not said a word against Theresa. When 
 neighbours had asked questions relative to the new squiress, 
 or turned the conversation to her in Jane's presence, she had 
 maintained the strictest silence ; she had refused to be drawn 
 to express an opinion concerning Percival's wife. 
 
 What was to be done] 
 
 Percival vowed he would leave Curgenven next winter and 
 go to Italy, the Riviera, anywhere to be out of the ostracism 
 that had fallen on his wife, and through her on him. He 
 could not go to dinner-parties to which she was not invited. 
 He could not invite neighbours to his table, knowing that his 
 invitations would be accepted by gentlemen only. 
 
 Yet it must be allowed that those gentlemen who did come 
 to Curgenven tried their best, by deference and kindly 
 civility to Mrs. Curgenven, to make up to her for the 
 abstention of their wives ; but they could not ask her to their 
 houses, and all their efforts to persuade their womenkind to 
 call on Mrs. Curgenven only deepened and intensified their 
 mistrust of her. 
 
 The servants noticed that there were no lady callers, and
 
 A NEW PROPOSAL. 245 
 
 commented on it. They began to entertain doubts as to the 
 respectability of their mistress, to form romances concerning 
 her early life, when she had been a stage-player, as they said. 
 The villagers talked, they eyed the new squiress with suspicion, 
 but waited to see whether she was liberally disposed before 
 deciding finally as to her claim to be a lady. 
 
 Theresa offered the rector to take a class in the Sunday 
 school. He passed his fingers through his white whiskers, aud 
 with many polite and unctuous speeches declined her services. 
 There really was not a class that was not provided with a 
 teacher. It would positively be the imposition of too heavy 
 a task upon her. 
 
 Theresa was not one who cared for society. She lived 
 much wrapped up in herself, and was happy to have books to 
 read, beautiful objects about her, and a husband whose whims 
 and pleasures she might consult. But the isolation in which 
 she was placed wounded her ; it grieved her specially because 
 it annoved Percival, and debarred him from taking his proper 
 position in county society. 
 
 Theresa was in the bungalow smoking-room thinking of 
 these things when Physic entered. 
 
 ' Glad to find you here, madam — and alone,' said he. 
 
 ' Mr. Curgenven is out. I presume it is he whom you wish 
 to see.' 
 
 'I am come on business.' 
 
 ' As I said, he is not at home.' 
 
 ' Precisely, but my business is with yourself.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' 
 
 ' You were so good as to furnish me with promptitude the 
 sum I had demanded. For that I am obliged. Circumstances 
 have occurred, over which I have no control, that place me in 
 extreme pecuniary difficulties, and oblige me immediately to 
 find a sum of money that I am unable unassisted to raise.' 
 
 ' I quite understand to what this leads,' said Theresa 
 haughtily. ' Because you have been able to wring from me 
 three hundred pounds, you are resolved to wring some more.' 
 
 ' It is a case of necessity.' 
 
 'It is a case of the horse-leech,' retorted Theresa. 'You 
 will not let go till you have taken all you can.' 
 
 ' When a man is driven to his wits' ends for money ' 
 
 ' He loses all scruple, that is, supposing he had any scruples 
 to lose.' 
 
 ' You put things in a very harsh light.' 
 
 'The case stands thus,' said Theresa, her angry blood
 
 246 MRS CURGENVEN. 
 
 swelling her veins. ' You have determined to get from me 
 all you can at the risk of causing misery to me by estranging 
 my husband from me. Do your worst. You shall have no 
 more.' 
 
 ' I do not understand you.' 
 
 1 1 spoke plainly enough. I will not be tortured thus. It 
 was to mo inexpressibly painful to extort from Mr. Curgenven 
 the sum you required. I did it, but 1 will not do it again.' 
 
 'Very well,' said Physic. 'Then you know the con 
 sequences. I shall produce the will.' 
 
 ' As you like. But I do not believe you will do it. What 
 have you to gain ? Now, you are agent for this estate, not 
 without some advantage to yourself. Do you suppose you 
 will retain the agency when it passes to Mrs. Jane Curgenven ? 
 If what I hear be true, she was constantly urging Captain 
 Curgenven to take it from you and give it to the Smiths, who 
 are said to be worthy and upright men. When the estate is 
 hers, will she retain you as her factotum ? I doubt it. So do 
 you. If you prove that will, you lose what is worth some- 
 thing not inconsiderable. For that reason you will not do it.' 
 
 Physic looked at Theresa with a blank expression, but 
 speedily recovered himself. 
 
 ' What is this agency worth that I should care for it? If 
 I tell Mrs. Jane that I can give her the estate and house, I 
 can make it a proviso that I am kept in my place, and that I 
 receive some consideration for my services in helping her into 
 her own.' 
 
 ' No, you will not. She will not thank you to be proclaimed 
 no wife of Captain Curgenven, and her child to be illegitimate. 
 She will owe you a grudge and not a debt.' 
 
 1 We shall see.' 
 
 ' Yes, we shall see. If this is all you have to say to me 
 you may go.' 
 
 'And you will drive me to use the will?' 
 
 ' You will not use it. You are too well aware of your own 
 interest to do so. I tell you that I had rather be in poverty 
 again than endure the torture to which you subject me, and 
 the risk of forfeiting my husband's love.' 
 
 'Come, come, do not be so hot !' said Physic, assuming a 
 conciliatory tone. ' You know that we are old friends.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! I know nothing of the kind.' 
 
 ' Some consideration is due to me as an old admirer.' 
 
 Theresa pointed to the door. ' Leave mo. Do your worst.' 
 
 ' I will not go. I will not leave you in anger against me
 
 A NEW PROPOSAL. 247 
 
 Upon my soul I do not desire to cause you annoyance. I 
 would give you back the will most readily if I could afford it. 
 I do not wish to drive you out of Curgenven. I do not wish 
 to see Mrs. Jane come in, with her nose in the air. I ask 
 but a reasonable thing. Here you are in possession of a fine 
 estate worth four thousand a year, and, as you know very 
 well, you hold it only because I do not produce a certain 
 document. That document you put into my hand and you 
 read what was written on it. I was empowered to use it or 
 suppress it, as I saw fit.' 
 
 ' I do not suppose that this has any legal authority, and 
 that you are really justified in retaining it.' 
 
 ' I am the best judge of that. Suffice it, between you and 
 me, that you are mistress of Curgenven because I use the 
 right given me by the writer of that paper. It stands to 
 common sense that I should be considered for what I have 
 done. I have done you a vast favour — worth four thousand 
 a year — and now that I am in dire need for money I may 
 with fairness ask you to let me have a little help.' 
 
 ' A little help ! You have had three hundred pounds.' 
 
 ' What is three hundred to four thousand a year for, say, 
 ten years? Four thousand for ten years is forty thousand 
 pounds, and you offer me three hundred ! I spit at the offer. 
 You would give me a dog's pay for my services. I will be 
 treated like a man.' 
 
 ' Then do your worst, Mr. Physic. We shall know what to 
 expect.' 
 
 ' Beggary, utter beggary.' 
 
 ' Not beggary — poverty, perhaps.' 
 
 1 Poverty most assuredly. And then — how will Mr. 
 Percival find himself in poverty ? You know that there is no 
 work in him, no stability. He never earned an honest penny 
 in his life. He can sponge — that is all he can do.' 
 
 ' If we come to poverty we shall have to shape ourselves to 
 our new quarters. That will be our concern. Tell me, once 
 for all, what your demand is, so that this will may be 
 delivered into my hands — into my hands, which in an incon- 
 siderate moment, in this room, confided it to you.' 
 
 ' A thousand pounds.' 
 
 'That is to say, seven hundred in addition to the three 
 hundred you have received.' 
 
 ' Oh dear no ! It is dirt cheap at thirteen hundred.' 
 
 1 A thousand stars out of the sky you might as well demand. 
 I neither will ask my husband for the sum, nor, did I ask it,
 
 248 MKs. OUEGKNVEN. 
 
 would he give it, not knowing the purpose for which it was 
 given.' 
 
 ' Let us understand each other,' said Physic coolly. ' You 
 do not want to be further annoyed by me. Very good. A 
 thousand pounds will place you in such a position that my 
 power to annoy you is gone. I do not desire to turn you :uul 
 your husbaud out of Curgenven, but I am not disposed to 
 surrender my hold over you for any sum less than a thousand 
 pounds. I should be a fool if I did.' 
 
 'I tell you for once and all, a thousand pounds is impos- 
 sible. Do you suppose that my husband would sign me a 
 cheque for that sum without knowing what I would do with 
 ifi I had trouble enough getting him to give me a cheque 
 for three hundred.' 
 
 ' I am well aware of that. But I know also that he has 
 a Bolivian bond for a thousand. Three hundred and that 
 would serve my purpose ; it is about the only security he 
 has.' 
 
 ' What ! you would have me rob him 1 ' 
 
 1 No robbery at all. It is securing Curgenven and four 
 thousand per annum to him. A very small sacrifice indeed. 
 If you deny me what I want, then indeed you rob him of a line 
 property, a good income, and an enviable position. If he 
 loses all this, you do it, you despoil him of everything rather 
 than relieve my immediate necessity by handing over to me 
 this trumpery bond.' 
 
 ' He keeps all his papers locked.' 
 
 1 But you know where is the key.' 
 
 ' I will not do it. Nothing in the world will induce me to 
 it. I cannot — will not — rob my dear husband.' 
 
 ' Then I offer you another alternative.' 
 
 1 What is that 1 ' Theresa buried her face in her hands. 
 
 ' There are family jewels, heirlooms, of very considerable 
 value ; in fact, worth more than a thousand pounds. These, 
 I presume, are in your keeping. Let me have them. I do 
 not propose to get rid of them, but to raise on them the sum 
 I require; and I leave it to you to get them back by the 
 gradual extinction of the sum raised upon them.' 
 
 1 Now you propose that i should rob the family.' 
 
 'What family 1 The dead (Jurgenvens in the ancestral 
 vault, in the family silo f or the (Jurgunvens that are yet to 
 cornel Who will know if these jewels are in other hands 
 for a whih>? Do you see so much company? go out to so 
 many grand balls, where you would be expected to wear the
 
 OLD AND NEW QUARTERS. 249 
 
 jewels? Trust me, they may sleep in their cases so long as 
 you are Mrs. Curgenveu of Curgenven. The county folk 
 don't like you, they will have nothing to say to the adven- 
 turess — the soubrette of the San Francisco theatre. No — the 
 drive may be grass-grown for all it is needed for the carriages 
 of the squirearchy of the neighbourhood. You may dismiss 
 the gatekeepers at the lodge, they will not be called on to 
 open to any. The neighbourhood has placed you under an 
 interdict, and as you are under an interdict you will not be 
 required to wear jewellery. If the jewels be away from 
 Curgenven, no one will be the wiser save yourself and me. 
 What does Mr. Curgenven care about these gewgaws] In 
 ten years, by a payment of a hundred and fifty per annum, I 
 dare say you may be able to get them all back into your 
 hands again. Meantime Curgenven is assured to your 
 husband and to you. I leave you a week to turn this 
 proposal over in your mind. Let me see — this day week — 
 where shall we meet? not anywhere near the house. Say at 
 Tolmenna — on the moor, where we can make sure none will 
 be looking and listening. If you bring the jewels, I will 
 bring the will, and we shall effect an exchange. Till this 
 dav week — and then — at Tolmenna.' 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 OLD AND NEW QUARTERS. 
 
 • Get on your hat, Alice. I am going to carry you off.' 
 
 ' Where to, Justinian 1 ' 
 
 ' It is too bad ; you have not been to the house for an age. 
 I run in here like a tame cat, and you never come to us. By 
 the way, Aunt Jane, you have not been there either.' 
 
 'No, Justinian. You must remember my feelings. It 
 would be most painful for me to go there, where I have spent 
 such happy years.' 
 
 ' But, Aunt Jane, you do not know my step-mother.' 
 
 ' Oh — I do,' in a chilling tone. 
 
 ' Alice does not. It is too bad that here she should be 
 so close to the house, and not have been in to make her
 
 250 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 acquaintance. The stop-mother is not a bad sort of person 
 at all — she's rather jolly, in fact, and I don't blame the 
 governor. 80 now, Alice, come and be introduced, and make 
 your courtesy.' 
 
 'Oh — I — I think Alice has a music-lesson,' said Mrs. 
 Jane. 
 
 'No, mamma. Wednesday is my day.' 
 
 ' But practice, dear. You cannot expect to get on, and it is 
 not fair to your master, who comes out from Liskeard, nor to 
 me, who have to pay half-a guinea for your lesson, if you do 
 not work for it in preparation.' 
 
 ' But, mamma, 1 can prepare at another time.' 
 
 Mrs. Curgenven frowned, and slightly shook her head, as 
 a private notice to her daughter not to combat her reasons. 
 
 ' Besides,' said that lady, ' there are some gathers out in her 
 dress.' 
 
 ' Oh, that is nothing, aunt. Alice can change her frock.' 
 
 ' It is not that ouly ; there are various reasons.' 
 
 I But what are they ? ' persisted Justinian. ' It seems to me 
 that Alice is in duty bound to pay her respects to my step- 
 mother. It seems so queer that she should not come to our 
 house and get acquainted with her. I am quite sure Alice 
 will like her, she is such a lady — so true a lady.' 
 
 ' You are an excellent judge, no doubt,' said Mrs. Curgenven, 
 throwing up her head. 
 
 I I think I am/ retorted Justiuian frankly * You say you 
 know her. Don't you think so yourself? ' 
 
 ' Really, my dear fellow, that is not a fair question. Naturally 
 I cannot say other than that your father has made his choice, 
 and no doubt on excellent reasons.' 
 
 1 That is not an answer at all. I tell you freely that I did 
 not readily swallow the tidings that I had a step mother. I 
 was very angry; but when I saw her, and had a till k with 
 her, I found that I had boon mistaken ; and it is the place of 
 a gentleman to acknowledge when he has been in error, and 
 only a fool persists in his prejudice after he has been shown 
 that he was mistaken. So — there — I have had no proper 
 reasons. Alice, get on your hat.' 
 
 'No,' said Mrs. Curgenven, 'Alice was not well this 
 morning. I detected a slight cobweb in her throat, and the 
 weather is damp. I do not wish her to go out. Indeed, I 
 am going to administer bryonia.' 
 
 ' Mamma, 1 am quite well ! 'said the astonished girl. 
 
 ' My dear, you try to persuade yourself that you are. Stay
 
 OLD AND NEW QUARTERS. 251 
 
 here — or, no — come up with me to my room. You must have 
 a sip of bryonia every two hours out of my china spoon. 
 Justinian, when bryonia is administered there must be no 
 exposure to damp. Follow me, Alice, at once. Justinian, 
 remain where you are till my return.' 
 
 As soon as the mother and daughter were in the hall, Alice 
 remonstrated against being made to take medicine. 
 
 ' Mamma, I really am perfectly well.' 
 
 1 My dear, I ought to judge that better than you. You 
 take bryonia to prevent your going to the Manor House. Now 
 go to my room and wait there for me. You can get out the 
 china spoon if you like, it is in the medicine-chest.' 
 
 Then Mrs. Curgenven entered the study, shut the door 
 behind her, and said to her father, who was then engaged on 
 the Contemporary and a sermon in little dips and alternations : 
 
 1 Papa, here is a pretty kettle of fish. Justinian wishes to 
 carry off Alice to bow T down to and worship that woman, and 
 he has taken me to task for not visiting her. What is to 
 be done % ' 
 
 ' Jane, of course we must be ordinarily civil.' 
 
 ' I cannot dissemble. If she were in a penitentiary I would 
 cheerfully visit her daily, and I would go without Devonshire 
 cream for a twelvemonth, even in the black currant tart, if by 
 my self-denial I could save her soul ; but I cannot, and will 
 not, countenance her at Curgenven.' 
 
 ' But, Jane, you must remember that she is the wife of our 
 squire, who is your poor husband's cousin. There will be a 
 great deal of talk, and very unpleasant talk, if you hold your- 
 self aloof. What can people say to explain your conduct but 
 what is most distressing to think could be said of a member of 
 the Curgenven family 1 ' 
 
 ' I don't care three straws what people say. I will not 
 regard her as a relation.' 
 
 ' Then why did you ask my opinion 1 You have made up 
 your mind.' 
 
 ' I ask, because here is Justinian at me for not going to the 
 Manor House, and refusing to take any excuse for Alice. I 
 am obliged to dose her with bryonia.' 
 
 ' Why, what is the matter with her 1 ' 
 
 ' Nothing ; but I must make an excuse for her not going to 
 the house to-day. He will be plaguing me again to-morrow. 
 I can't keep Alice perpetually on bryonia.' 
 
 ' No, I do not see myself how you can help letting Alice go 
 to the house, and going yourself.'
 
 252 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Good gracious ! My dear lather ! To that woman ! ' 
 
 'Why not? You know absolutely nothing against her. 
 Her manners leave nothing to be desired. She is highly 
 educated. Except that she was a governess, and has no rela- 
 tions, she is unexceptionable.' 
 
 'Goodness me! Really, papa — and rector with the care of 
 souls, and hoping to be a bishop! I do not understand this 
 moral obtuseuess. But there, men are differently constituted 
 from women. I believe this — even clergymen rather prefer a 
 spice of wickedness in good-looking women.' 
 
 ' My dear Jane, you forget the respect due to me — to my 
 age, my avocation, my relation to yourself.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, papa ; I was a little hot. I could not 
 help it. What am I to do 1 ' 
 
 'There, you ask my advice again, without the slightest 
 intention of following it ; nevertheless, I will give it. It will 
 not do for you to hold aloof from the squiress. You will tear 
 the parish into two factions, one siding with her, one with you. 
 Percival will be extremely angry, and will refuse his sub- 
 scriptions to the charities and bring the organization to a 
 standstill. I shall have to dismiss either the Scripture 
 reader or the mission woman. If I get rid of the former all 
 the Evangelicals will be up in arms, and denounce me as 
 gravitating to sacerdotalism ; if I dismiss the mission-woman, 
 I shall have all the High Church folk shaking the dust off 
 their feet against me as wholly sunk into the slough of 
 Puritanism. If I am not via media, I am nothing. But that 
 is not all. Consider the very unpleasant situation we shall be 
 in with the neighbours. The estrangement will be commented 
 on, and there is simply no estimating the extravagance of the 
 myths that will be formed relative to Percival's wife. You 
 must also bear in mind that Lady Carminow is a woman free 
 from prejudices and of a very decided character. How do you 
 know but that Lady Carminow may take it into her head to 
 visit and make much of Percival's wife? It is precisely the 
 thing she is likely to do. And if she does this, do you not 
 know that at once the whole neighbourhood, from Lady 
 Tregontick down to every curate's wife, will veer round 
 and vie with each other in courting her 1 Then where will 
 you be 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Jane bitterly, ' Lady Carminow is capable of even 
 that. I never can forgive her laying the foundation-stone of 
 the Ranters' chapel at Cartuthers.' 
 
 ' This must be weighed. Take my advice, Jane, and be
 
 OLD AND NEW QUARTERS. 253 
 
 decently civil to Mrs. Percival. Then you can always draw 
 back at any time, or push forward, according to circum- 
 stances.' 
 
 1 That I never will do. Never ! I have too much self- 
 respect to push forward with her.' 
 
 1 Very well. Maintain a cold and ceremonious demeanour'.' 
 
 ' A cold and ceremonious demeauour I will, if I can. I can- 
 not ca 11 black white ; and if society should take up that person, 
 so much the worse for society. I shall be clear of participa- 
 tion. So far — society has taken much the same view of her 
 that I have.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you managed that.' 
 
 ' I have not spoken of her.' 
 
 ' Exactly ; and your chilling reception of any word spoken 
 about her has made society suppose that there is more behind 
 the scenes than there really is. You are uncharitable.' 
 
 ' We shall never agree on this head,' said Jane, ' and there- 
 fore had better cease to speak about it. Something, however, 
 must be settled, that I may not be worried by the importunities 
 of Justinian. He has been won over now, and quite admires 
 this precious step-mother.' 
 
 ' What I desire, Jane, is, that there be no open quarrel. 
 Maintain a semblam e of good terms, for the sake of the parish, 
 of the charities, the organization — for my sake. If it be said 
 that there is a quarrel between me and my squire — who is also 
 in a fashion a connection — it may stand in the way of my 
 ministerial work.' 
 
 1 Very well, papa,' said Jane, after some rumination, ' I will 
 call, and by my manner, I trust, I shall be able to let that 
 person understand, unless she wears rhinoceros hide, that 
 exteriorly we are on speaking terms, but that acquaintance- 
 ship stops there. As to Alice, never will I allow her into 
 the Manor House whilst that woman is there. I trust I value 
 my child's immortal soul too highly to submit it to so great 
 peril.' 
 
 'Peril— fiddle faddle.' 
 
 ' You cannot touch pitch and not be defiled. You cannot 
 associate with that sort of creature without a lowering of moral 
 tone. I have told you, papa, the limits of my submission to 
 your wishes. Now I will go, give Alice her bryonia, and then 
 put on my bonnet, and walk with Justinian and make this call. 
 I'll get it over at once.' 
 
 ' Very well, my dear ; now leave me to my sermon.' 
 
 When Jane Curgenven had made up her mind to do a thing
 
 254 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 that was disagreeable, she did it at once. Accordingly, after 
 having administered the bryonia as a matter of conscience — not 
 that Alice required it, but because she had said she would 
 administer it — Jane Curgenven started with Justinian to call 
 at the Manor. 
 
 She was by no means sure that the squiro.-s would receive 
 her, for she was aware that her behaviour to Theresa on the 
 Sunday had been discourteous if not insolent. Jane had 
 satisfied her own conscience as to her conduct. ' I am not a 
 hypocrite. What I feel I express. If that person resents 
 my treatment of her — it makes no difference to me — I have 
 done what 1 undertook. If she receives me and is civil, 
 it will be very clear that she has a guilty conscience, knows 
 that I was in the right, and cringes to me to obtain my 
 silence.' 
 
 But Jane did not find Theresa at home. The footman in- 
 formed her that Mr. and Mrs. Curgenven had just left the house 
 in the dog-cart for Liskeard. This was a relief to her mind. 
 She left her card and departed. 
 
 Percival had driven his wdfe into Liskeard to have a look at 
 the Pill-box, and decide what was to be done with its furniture. 
 The lease would soon be up, and he was undecided whether to 
 have the contents sold, or whether to remove them to Cur- 
 genven, or, again, whether he would sell part and retain a 
 moiety of the articles. A groom sat behind in the dog-cart, so 
 that Theresa azid herhusb.md could not converse with freedom 
 during the drive. Moreover, on reaching the Pill-box, Bath- 
 sheba, who had returned to it, not having proved a success as 
 housekeeper over a large establishment, had much to say, 
 grievances to complain of, and inquiries to make relative to her 
 favourite, Master Justinian. 
 
 After a while Percival was able to send the old woman about 
 some commission in the town, and then he threw himself into 
 his old smoking arm-chair, drew Theresa to him, put his arm 
 about her, and looked round. 
 
 ' I say, T., I had no conception it was so dirty and small. 
 Do look at the smoked ceiling — see how shabby the paper is. 
 Fancy enduring for so long a mangy red-flock paper ! It is 
 stuffy —one can hardly breathe here.' 
 
 ' Poor old house ! You were happy here — you must love it.' 
 
 'I don't see that. I was happy in spite of it. Why, T., 
 think of the study at home, and then look at this.' Curgenven 
 was home to him now. 
 
 ' Upon my word, T., it is a wonder to me how men can
 
 OLD AND NEW QUARTERS. 255 
 
 consent to live in such tight quarters. It is not wholesome. 
 There should be a law against it. The State takes care that 
 in school-rooms there be sufficient cubic feet of air. It should 
 forbid the construction of a house in which there is not 
 breathing-space.' 
 
 1 You have been in worse places than the Pill-box.' 
 
 ' I know I have. I look back with horror on existence as it 
 was then, just as does a butterfly, I suppose, on its chrysalis 
 or caterpillar state.' 
 
 ' But, Percival, suppose, like Sly, you were to wake up and 
 find it all a dr» am, and you were back in the Pill-box, after a 
 brief period of lordship ] ' 
 
 ' Like Sly, I'd say : " Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and 
 let the world slip ; we shall ne'er be younger." ' 
 
 ' What, Percival, you would be content 1 ' 
 
 ' Not I — my only consolation would be that I should take 
 you with me, heart's delight.' 
 
 Theresa put her arm about his neck. 
 
 ' You would reconcile yourself to it 1 ' she said, 
 
 ' Never. Indeed, I am not sure but that, having you here, 
 and not being able to give you the comforts and pleasures you 
 deserve, I would feel it as an aggravation of the ill.' 
 
 ■ And yet, there is something to be said on the other side. 
 It is no secret that the society of Philistia does not choose to 
 accept me, and that this is an awkwardness and irritation to 
 you. It places you in difficulties.' 
 
 'My own T., what care I for the society of Philistia? 
 They showed me the cold shoulder when I lived in the Pill- 
 box. Now good folk would like to be civil, but you puzzle 
 them, because they think you have been an actress. More- 
 over, Jane has been telling tales, or hinting evil, after the 
 fashion of the professionally pious. The Philistines are slow 
 and timorous in the extreme, each afraid of the other. Do 
 not concern yourself about them. I did not when in this 
 house. I saw their carriages, their broughams and victorias 
 and landaus pass, and never did one stop at this door. I got 
 along without them, and I shall get along without them very 
 comfortably till it pleases them to come round in their sluggish 
 way. When they do, I accept it, not for my sake, but for 
 yours. But as for the society of Philistia, I care for it not 
 a snap. Bless you, T., dearest, we who have knocked about 
 the world, and have brains of quicksilver, cannot find much 
 pleasure in association with brains of white le;id and linseed 
 oil kneaded into a putty.'
 
 256 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' But, Perclval, suppose that there had open some mistake 
 about the property, ami that a will were found.' 
 
 'Oh, you have had that nonsense propounded before you. 
 Physic told me something of the sort. 1 do not believe for 
 a moment that such a will exists. If it exists, why has it 
 not been produced? The only person who would be intere 
 in concealing or destroying such a will would be myself) and, 
 by George ! I'm not the man to do such a thing as that.' 
 
 ' And if you found the will you would give it up? ' 
 
 ' I would — and then shoot myself.' 
 
 'And I ' 
 
 ' .M v dearest T., I know as well as you that I should be 
 merely an incumbrance to you. I cannot earn my livelihood. 
 1 tried as a surgeon, and after killing one or two of my patients, 
 took to art, and never sold a picture. I had not learned 
 perspective nor how to mix my colours. I went sheep-farming 
 in the Rockies, and lost my sheep. I was taken in — bought 
 a farm where there could be no provision for the sheep in the 
 winter. They starved — I was ruined. I tried a clerkship, 
 but I never in my life could do compound addition. I was 
 kicked out. By Moses ! T., I have tried being everything 
 but being a waiter, and have made a botch of everything. 
 The long and the short of it is, I'm an ass. Dear old Lambert 
 took me up and cared for me. But 1 am incapable now as I 
 was before of earning enough to find me in bread-and-butter. 
 I have the best will, but I can't do it. I know what the end 
 would be ; you would take in needlework and wear these dear 
 fingers to the bone to maintain me. Rather than that, I'd 
 blow my brains out. I'd do the honest and right thing, if 
 that will tinned up, and then I'd make my coiuje to a world in 
 which I don't know how to live except as a gentleman who 
 has inherited a fortune which he is incapable of acquiring for 
 himself. But there, away with these thoughts. Thank 
 heaven ! — I do it heartily — there is and can be no such will. 
 Physic has tried to scare me, and some one — Jane, I suppose — 
 has been playing on your fears. I snap my fingers under the 
 nose of the bogie. There is no such will.'
 
 AGAIN: INVENI PORTUM 257 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 AGAIN : INVENI PORTUM. 
 
 Mb. Curgenven and Justinian went for a couple of nights 
 to the house of Sir Sampson Tregontick for a shooting party. 
 Justinian was a keen sportsman and a good shot ; Percival 
 was a sportsman by fits and starts, and not a successful one 
 when he had the fit on him. 
 
 Theresa was not sorry that they were away ; she had to 
 form a decision as to her course with Physic, and then take it. 
 She desired to be alone to consider what she should do. There 
 was no one whom she could consult. She had no friend save 
 her husband, and she was precluded from laying the matter 
 before him. Bitterly, but with a sense of its ineffectually, 
 did she reproach herself for having placed in the agent's hand 
 the weapon with which he now threatened her. If she had 
 withheld the document, looked at it before it left her possession, 
 this condition of affairs would not have existed. 
 
 She locked herself into her boudoir and opened the jewel- 
 case. She drew from it the same jewels she had exhibited to 
 Esther, and sat looking at them and musing. They — the 
 finest of them, at all events— were heirlooms. Jane Curgenven 
 had had them in her possession, but bad conscientiously re- 
 linquished them. Theresa knew how much it must have cost 
 Jane to resign these to herself ; but Jane had done it, actuated 
 by her strict sense of justice, with scrupulous rectitude, not 
 retaining a single ring or brooch which she could not say had 
 been a present to herself. And now Theresa was asked to 
 alienate from the family these ornaments that had decorated 
 the Curgenven ladies for several generations. Could she do it] 
 She weighed the reasons urging to compliance with Physic's 
 demand. They were cogent. If this will could be got from 
 him and destroyed, then the Curgenven family would be 
 delivered from the scandal of the revelation of the relation in 
 which Captain Lambert had stood to Jane Pamphlet. This 
 was the more important, as Theresa saw there was a growing 
 inclination towards each other between the young people. A 
 marriage between Justinian and Alice would heal everything, 
 if only the secret of the invalidity of the marriage of Alice's 
 mother could be kept from the world. The cousins were much 
 together now, and their affection for earh other was ripening. 
 
 s
 
 258 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Were Percivai with herself and Justinian banished from 
 Curgenven, then in all probability this nascent passion would 
 be nipped in the bud. Percivai would leave I. upland and take 
 his son with him. Jane Curgenven would do all that lay in 
 her power to stop the intimacy. 
 
 For this reason it seemed worth while, at the cost of the 
 jewellery, to secure the will. But, on the other hand, Theresa 
 shrank from the consequences to herself. The day might come 
 when the heirloom would be required of her; the jewels might 
 be looked for after her death, and she would be accused of 
 having misappropriated them. If they were asked for in her 
 lifetime, she would not be able to give her reasons for having 
 disposed of them, and it might reawaken suspicion in her 
 husband, and turn away his heart from her. In future gener- 
 ations she would be spoken of as the dishonest woman who 
 had fraudulently got rid of this treasure of the family. She 
 could conceive in what terms Jane would refer to her, when 
 Alice was squiress of Curgenven, and the family jewellery was 
 not forthcoming wherewith to array her. Jane trampled on 
 her in life and would trample on her when dead. The loss 
 of the necklaces, and rings, and brooches would be used as 
 corroborative proof against her character. Yet she, Theresa, 
 was called on to make the sacrifice, not only to preserve her 
 own fortune, but also Jane's good name. To save Jane's good 
 name she must steep her own in ignominy 1 
 
 Theresa put up the jewels, unlocked her door, and went out 
 to walk in the garden. Her responsibility overwhelmed her, 
 and her blood was in a fever, her brain in a whirl. At one 
 moment she thought she would let Physic do his worst. At 
 the next she shrank from the prospect of being cast on the 
 world again, and was prepared to make any sacrifice to escape 
 that. At one moment it seemed to her right to allow Captain 
 Lambert's last wishes to take effect, at whatever cost to the 
 family ; and then she doubted whether it was his last wish to 
 brand his child with bastardy. Surely, she said, he drew up 
 that will on the supposition that I, on reappearing, would 
 assert my light to be his wife or widow, claim the name, and 
 put in some pica for sustentation from the property. I have 
 not done any of this. I have been willing to let my rights be 
 covered over ; and to save his memory, to spare the feelings 
 of his wife, to prevent a slur falling on his child, I have con- 
 sented to let the past be as a thing that had not been. Under 
 these circumstances the aspect of the case is altered. Had he 
 thought I would do this, he would never have made that will.
 
 AGAIN: INVENT PORTUM. 259 
 
 I am fulfilling his best wishes in doing what I can at whatever 
 cost to recover and destroy it. 
 
 She longed, she craved for advice, for some one to whom 
 to confide her difficulties, and who, with clear sight into the 
 ways of right and wrong, might lead her to do what was not 
 only expedient for all concerned, but what was the course 
 morally justifiable. 
 
 As if in answer to this cry out of her heart, the rector 
 appeared before her. 
 
 4 Oh, Mr. Pamphlet ! ' She ran to him with a flutter at 
 her heart, a crimson spot in each cheek, and with both hands 
 extended. ' Oh ! Mr. Pamphlet, do help me ! I want advice 
 in great difficulty. Do come with me into the walled garden, 
 and let me tell you all.' 
 
 ' Most assuredly,' answered the rector blandly. • Providence 
 and the bishop have placed me here as pastor of souls, to guide 
 the doubtful, strengthen the weak, raise the fallen, and clear 
 the clouds from before all darkened eyes, to the best of my 
 poor ability.' 
 
 ' That is exactly what I want — what I want above everything 
 in the world,' gasped Theresa. 'Oh, how kind, how good of you!' 
 
 ' Not at all ; it is my duty, by virtue of my office and 
 commission.' 
 
 She threw open the garden gate, and both entered. There 
 was a long wall against which old figs grew, and she turned to 
 that, No gardeners were about. In the fig walk they could 
 be alone, unobserved and not overheard. They paced together 
 the whole length of the walk before she spoke ; they turned 
 at the end, by the tool-house, and then he said encouragingly, 
 1 Now — what is it ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Pamphlet, my poor husband, in his will ' 
 
 ' Good gracious ! He has gone out rabbit-shooting — there 
 has not occurred an accident 1 ' 
 
 'No. I mean Captain Lambert.' 
 
 «Oh!' 
 
 ' He made a will by which he provided for your daughter 
 under her maiden name, and for his child by her.' 
 
 'Oh ! ' Mr. Pamphlet's face grew long and blank. 
 
 ' This is in existence, but has not been produced. We are 
 threatened with its production.' 
 
 ' Merciful powers ! If this get about — and any one could go 
 to Somerset House and see the will for a shilling — then my 
 chances of elevation to a bish — I mean my ministerial efficacy 
 in the parish would be crippled 1 '
 
 260 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' The will leaves everything to your daughter and grand- 
 child.' 
 
 I Yes — but — I would rather sacrifice everything than have 
 this come out.' 
 
 'Then what do you think should be done?' 
 
 * I— I think—/ ' 
 
 'There lias l>een an offer made to compromise the matter. 
 That is to say, the will will be delivered into my hands on 
 condition that I surrender the family jewels.' 
 
 ' What, to suppress — tear up the will ! But that is a felony. 
 Why did you mention this to me 1 ' 
 
 The rector's face became pink, showing doubly so by contrast 
 with his white whiskers. 
 
 ' Am I justified in accepting this offer ? ' 
 
 ' 01), don't ask me. For Heaven's sake, consult any one — 
 Percival, Physic — any one but me. I don't want to be mixed 
 up in this matter at all.' 
 
 I I cannot speak of it to my husband, for you know his direct 
 manner ; he would say, " Prove the will," without considering 
 results, how they affected himself or any one else. I cannot 
 consult Mi*. Physic for other reasons. I have no one to confer 
 with but yourself in this matter — in this difficulty.' 
 
 ' Oh ! good gracious ! I want to hear no more about it. 
 It might get into the papers. I had better know nothing ; 
 then, should there be any trouble, I could safely protest my 
 ignorance.' 
 
 ' But, Mr. Pamphlet ! it affects your interests, as you yourself 
 admitted.' 
 
 ' Ye — s.' He dropped the umbrella he was carrying from his 
 shaking hand, and when he stooped to pick it up, his hat fell 
 on the path from his shaking head. 
 
 ' I have to decide, and decide at once, whether to sacrifice the 
 jewels or not.' 
 
 ' But the jewels are an heirloom, are most valuable. You 
 have really no right — oh, why did you consult me about this 1 
 I am involved in a matter out of which I wish to keep clear.' 
 
 ' It is for your own sake and your daughter's that I consult 
 you.' 
 
 1 1 see — I see — but, goodness ! I do not know what to say.' 
 
 ' Would you advise me to allow of the production of the 
 will ? ' 
 
 ' That would be fatal to my interests. It would blast my 
 family with eternal disgrace.' 
 
 'Then shall I surrender the jewels?'
 
 AGAIN: INVENI PORTUM. 261 
 
 ' That would be robbery of the family. You have no right 
 to dispose of them.' 
 
 ' Then what am I to do 1 ' 
 
 ' Is there no other way ? can you not frighten — threaten the 
 person, whoever he be, that has this will?' 
 ' How threaten — frighten 1 ' 
 ' He is committing felony in retaining it.' 
 ' That would but force him to produce it.' 
 'I see. My head is turning. Can't you say you have no 
 right to dispose of the jewels 1 ' 
 ' He knows that as well as I.' 
 
 ' Then — I really do not know what to say. I had best advise 
 nothing, and I must adapt myself to whatever happens as best 
 I can.' 
 
 • Then, Mr. Pamphlet, I want guidance in my doubt, and you 
 cannot give it me 1 ' 
 
 1 1 don't want to compromise myself.' 
 ' And you cannot advise 1 ' 
 
 'No — I'd rather not. It might get into the papers.' 
 
 ' Nor clear the clouds from my darkened eyes? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, no — oh dear, no ! ' After a long pause and deep 
 
 meditation, and much combing of his white whiskers with the 
 
 disengaged fingers, Mr. Pamphlet said, ' And yet I can give you 
 
 my advice. I was wrong in saying I could not — my matured 
 
 aud weighty advice in this matter ' 
 
 1 And that is 1 ' 
 
 ' To form your own opinion on it, and having formed, to 
 follow it.' 
 
 They left the garden, and Theresa walked with the rector 
 through the churchyard to the garden gate of the parsonage. 
 He avoided all further reference to the subject of consultation, 
 and spoke of the weather, the rabbit-shooting, the schools, 
 and parochial matters. The night had Legun to close in. It 
 was not dark, but gloomy, a dull leaden shadow hung over the 
 landscape, and the distance was obscure. Theresa turned at 
 the gate, after having with a heavy heart bidden the rector 
 farewell. 
 
 ' Shall I go back with you to the house ] ' he asked hesitat- 
 ingly ; ' night is falling rapidly.' 
 
 ' No, thank you, I know my way ; the white space of the 
 path is visible enough.' 
 
 ' And you are not afraid to go through the churchyard 
 alone 1 ' 
 
 * Why should 11 I have not annoyed the dead.'
 
 262 MRS. CUROKNVRN. 
 
 ' There are two or three paths ; mind not to take that to the 
 left ; it leads to the place where the heating apparatus is, and 
 there are steps to it.' 
 
 ' You need not fear.' 
 
 Then Theresa set off at a quick pace to cross the grave- 
 yard. The church rose as a huge black patch against the sky 
 before her. 
 
 The rector also turned to walk home, but changed his mind, 
 and said to himself, ' 1 will wait till she is through.' 
 
 Theresa did not know this. She stepped on, more troubled 
 in mind than before. She had sought light, and been given 
 none. The day was appointed on which she was to meet 
 Physic at Tolmenna, and by then the decision must be made 
 one way or other. 
 
 As she came near the flat tombstone on which she had 
 reposed on Sunday, she was startled to see in the darkness a 
 figure as of a man seated where she had been, and he seemed 
 to be doing what she had done, tracing the letters on the 
 stone with his finger. Her heart stood still, her feet were 
 arrested. Then, as he traced, she saw each letter shine 
 phosphorescent in the dark : — 
 
 Invoni portum ; apes et Fortuna valete. 
 
 She uttered an exclamation of terror. 
 
 He turned his face, a lambent light played over it, and she 
 knew her first husband. 
 
 With a cry she sank to the ground and lost consciousness. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 A THIRD A LTKH NATIVE. 
 
 THSBBBA did not return to full consciousness at once. There 
 came to her glimpses of light and bursts of sound, episodes of 
 wakefulness to movement, and to a sight of drawn curtains 
 and a sound of whispers, and then tracts of insensibility. 
 
 When she did awake to full possession of her faculties, she 
 found herself in bed in her own room, and she heard the
 
 A THIRD ALTERNATIVE. 263 
 
 voices of her husband and of the doctor. Both had been 
 summoned. 
 
 The first sentence she heard and understood was spoken 
 by the medical attendant. He said : ' She must be kept 
 perfectly quiet, and not be bothered about the jam. Her 
 heart is affected.' 
 
 Theresa raised herself on her elbow, and said : ' Yes, I 
 knew that — since my last illness.' 
 
 'It was the jam — and very provoking.' exclaimed the 
 surgeon. 
 
 But Percival ran to the bedside and took her hand between 
 his and said : ' You are better, T. ; nearly right again ! 
 That is capital ! ' 
 
 ' What has happened 1 ' she asked. 
 
 'My dearest T., you have given us such a fright?' 
 
 ' And I ' she mused. ' Yes, I have had a fright too.' 
 
 ' It was the rats,' threw in the surgeon. ' 'Twas vexing. I 
 allow, and sixteen pots of jam. All the brandy cherries, 
 also.' 
 
 'You have had a succession of fainting fits. You fell back 
 into one as soon as brought round. We were afraid you 
 would slip away altogether, between our fingers, in one of 
 them. Then, T., what should I have done? ' 
 
 She looked affectionately in his face, and he stooped aud 
 kissed her. 
 
 ' I had a fright ; I suppose that was it,' said Theresa medi- 
 tatively. ' Yes, I was coming through the churchyard ' 
 
 Then she interrupted herself, turned to the doctor, and asked, 
 ' May I get up 1 ' 
 
 ' Not to-night. Perhaps to-morrow. But, mind this ; don't 
 you go exciting yourself over pots of jam and brandy cherries 
 any more.' 
 
 ' Pots of jam 1 ' 
 
 ' Ah, yes ! I know all about it. I made inquiries, and 
 found that the rats had been at the store closet, and had 
 eaten the parchment off sixteen pots, so that the fruit was 
 mildewed, and had in the same way uncovered the brandy 
 cherries, put their tails in, sucked them, and absorbed all 
 the juice. It was very vexing, but you must not fret, over 
 these matters. You will have to buy, that is all. Don't 
 worry yourself any more. Leave all that to the housekeeper, 
 and keep your heart emotionless. It must be saved all kind 
 of agitation.' 
 
 ' I had forgotten about the jams.'
 
 264 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 'Oh, no, that was it I The housekeeper told me how it 
 disturbed you. You've been brooding over it — that is what 
 ha-; done it. Now, dear lady, be brave, be heroic; banish the 
 jams and the brandy cherries from your thoughts, and set 
 yourself to get well. That is my best advice. The heart is 
 a delicate and capricious instrument, like a chronometer. It 
 must not be treated jerkily, but gingerly. You understand 1 ' 
 
 When the doctor was gone, Theresa made Percival take a 
 chair by her bedside, and said : ' Now, tell me all about it.' 
 
 I The old boy found you.' 
 ' Who is he 1 ' 
 
 ' I mean Mr. Pamphlet. He came to the house to say that 
 he had found you in the churchyard in a fainting tit.' 
 
 ' I dare say. I had been talking to him in the walled 
 garden, and I accompanied him through the yard to his 
 wicket-gate. Then I turned.' She pressed Percival's hand 
 with a nervous spasm, and said : ' I saw Lambert there — I 
 mean in the graveyard.' 
 
 ' Fudge ! ' 
 
 I I did. He was sitting on a flat stone, and was writing on 
 it in Latin.' 
 
 'Now, T., that is clearly impossible. Dear old Lambert 
 had no more knowledge of Latin than 
 
 A mo amas, 
 I loved a lass I 
 
 and, unfortunately for him, he loved two, and was not off 
 with the old before he was on with the new. That's the 
 length of his Latin. You won't make me believe he's been to 
 a grammar school in kingdom come, and has become so ready 
 with his classics that he can scribble in the Latin tongue.' 
 
 'I do not quite mean that, Percy. I had seen this tomb- 
 stone on Sunday. The lines on it are — 
 
 " Invciii porbum ; spos et Fortuaa valote ; 
 Nil inihi vobiscuin : Indite nunc alios.'" 
 
 'They are beyond me.' 
 
 'I am it" scholar, but I think I know the sense. It is tin's : 
 I have found harbour. Hope and Good fortune, farewell. I 
 hive nothing more to do with you. Go now, make sport of 
 others.' 
 
 ' I don't like the sentiment at all,' said Percival ; ' but 1
 
 A THIRD ALTERNATIVE. 265 
 
 can't say that it did not apply to poor old Lambert. However, 
 the whole thing is nonseuse and fiddlesticks.' 
 
 ' I saw him. He drew his finger along the letters, and 
 then they became luminous. When I uttered an exclamation, 
 he turned his face round to me.' 
 
 ' My dear T. ! the whole is a delusion. You have been 
 over-exciting yourself — not about the jam and cherries in 
 brandy, as the doctor thinks, but about other things. There 
 has been Physic, or some one, frightening you concerning a 
 will of Lambert's. I know there has. You spoke to me 
 about it. Very well ; the point is established. You have 
 been fretting over Lambert. Very natural that, when a 
 little out of health, you should fancy you saw him. Then you 
 say you read that inscription on the tombstone last Sunday. 
 You had been thinking of that, and you came to associate 
 Lambert with the words. So, when your heated imagination 
 conjured him up, it also made him scribble those lines. I 
 don't know that I ever came across a ghost story so simple of 
 explanation. Send the thoughts of the poor old fellow back 
 into fhe grave to sleep with him, and bother the Latin. It 
 is not a fit inscription over any Christian. And, to please 
 the doctor, don't think of the jam and brandy cherries. So 
 you will be all right in a day or two.' 
 
 • I shall not be all right till the battle is over.' 
 
 1 What battle 1 ' 
 
 ' The battle of life.' 
 
 ' You have no cause to fight it.' 
 
 ' Not, perhaps, the same battle as of old. But I cannot 
 rest — I will not say on my laurels, for I have won none, but 
 on a bed of poppies.' 
 
 ' What have you to disturb you now 1 ' 
 
 ' Formerly, in that Bohemia in which we had to live — 
 though neither of us belonged to it — we had a struggle for 
 existence. I had to earn my daily bread, to strive under a 
 thousand adverse circumstances, and to maintain my integrity 
 through all — not an easy matter in Bohemia. The atmosphere 
 is enervating there to the moral sense, though stimulating to 
 the mental powers. However, I held my own ; but it was a 
 hard fight, and at last I broke down. My heart gave way, 
 and I was forbidden to undertake any more professional work 
 in concerts. Then I came very near to starvation. You know 
 the rest. Your dear hand helped me.' 
 
 She looked fondly in Percival's face, and put up her lips to 
 kiss him.
 
 266 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' You helped me. You placed me where I am. I am in a 
 new sphere. 
 
 ' I see — you worry now because you have Jane and the 
 world of Common Place to fight. The truly pious and infinitely 
 narrow don't know what to make of you. Leave Jane alone, 
 and concern yourself no more about her. It is a leaden weight 
 crashing your heart. Shake it off.' 
 
 ' It is not that. I am making no fight for position, 
 or for recognition in my position. I am content with bhe 
 place, your love, and Justinian's regard. I have had other 
 troubles.' 
 
 ' Oh, that affair about the three hundred pounds I Indigent 
 relatives. Confound them ! Now, take my advice, T. It 
 is that I gave you when they began to worry you. Refer 
 them all to Physic, or to me ; we will settle them between us. 
 Do not allow them to tease you any longer. Now that your 
 health suffers, it won't do. I shall be angry, and send the 
 police after them.' 
 
 ' It was not altogether that ' 
 
 1 Then what was it 1 ' 
 
 She remained silent. She could not tell him. 
 
 'Now, look here, dearest T,' said Percival. 'If you have 
 any bother, put it into Physic's hands. He is paid to take 
 this sort of thing off our shoulders, and he can manage it 
 much better than we can. It is his business, and it don't 
 worry him. Indeed, he rather likes it. However, let all 
 these matters be put aside now. You must on no account 
 excite yourself. Let us change the topic. What will amuse 
 you 1 What do you say to letting me see the Curgenven 
 jewellery 1 I never have seen it. Come, let me have the key, 
 and I will bring the case here. It will divert your thoughts, 
 and will give me a pleasure.' 
 
 ' Oh, Percy, please not ! ' 
 
 'Yes — your mind must be directed into another channel. 
 Women love jewellery. Where is the key 1 ' 
 
 She gave him what he asked for, and in a few minutes he 
 brought the case to her room. Then Percival moved the lamp 
 near to the bed, and lighted all the candles in the room. ' 1 
 must see the diamonds sparkle,' he said. 
 
 He unlocked the case and produced each article in the order 
 in which it lay in the velvet-lined trays. 
 
 'I have a list of them all and their estimated values,' said 
 Percival. ' That was all taken after Lambert's death, but 
 there is a list that Jane gave me as well. And I see there is
 
 A THIRD ALTERNATIVE. 267 
 
 one in the box. It is as well to have several lists in case of 
 accident or robbery.' 
 
 Percival continued for some time trifling with and admiring 
 the jewels, under the impression that he was giving pleasure 
 to his wife, or at all events diverting her thoughts from the 
 topics that had occupied them. 
 
 ' T., my love, next year Justinian is of age, and we will 
 give a great ball then. You shall wear the diamond necklace 
 Queen Anne gave to Lady Margaret Curgenven, and the tiara 
 also. It will be a pleasure to see you in them, and I'll swear 
 finer diamonds are not to be seen in Cornwall. I said some- 
 thing today about a ball, and you should have seen how Lady 
 Tregontick and the girls jumped. She at once told me that 
 she was coming to call on you. And you may be quite certain 
 that every mother with a marriageable daughter will? put her 
 scruples in her pocket and come and see you — for Justinian's 
 sake. I do not think there are many who would not give 
 their ears to see a daughter married to the heir of Curgenven. 
 The women have been hanging back because Jane has done 
 mischief. But Jane does not direct their consciences ; self- 
 interest does that.' 
 
 He looked round at his wife. Her eyes were closed. 
 
 ' You are tired,' he said ; ' I am afraid I have talked too 
 much. I will put the jewels away where you keep them, and 
 bring back the key. The place is safe, unless a burglar got 
 iuto your room.' 
 
 Percival kissed Theresa and left. Her hands were folded 
 under the bedclothes over her heart. 
 
 What was to be done t After what Percival had said, it 
 was not possible for her to dispose of the jewels. Next year 
 she would be required to wear them — at the coming of age of 
 Justinian. She was woman enough to feel satisfaction at 
 the thought that in spite of Jane Curgenven she would be 
 recognized by the county. What Percival had said was true. 
 The squirearchy, or rather the female adherents of the squires, 
 would swallow their prejudices, tread down their doubts, and 
 receive her among themselves, if not cordially, at all events 
 formally, for the sake of a ball and of the chance of catching 
 Justinian. Jane would, of course, not come to the ball, but 
 would hear the carriages drive past the rectory on the way to 
 the Hall, carriage succeeding carriage, and be taught thereby 
 that she was defeated — the scorned woman was Mrs. Curgen- 
 ven of Curgenven. No one loves to be trampled on. Theresa 
 cared for no better revenge than this, though she had in her
 
 268 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 power the means of executing a terrible one on her rival. She 
 might bow herself and bring down the house, but, like Samson, 
 to her own destruction ; and it would be poor satisfaction to 
 be buried under the same ruins with Jane Curgenven. 
 
 The morrow was the day of decision. 
 
 If Theresa remained at home, the affairs of the Curgenven 
 family would settle themselves. The wheel would turn, and 
 the revolution would be complete. She, and Percival, and 
 Justinian would bo cast on the world, and Jane, with a blasted 
 name and her child branded as a bastard, would occupy 
 Curgenven without being qualified to bear the name of 
 Curgenven. 
 
 What could she do? She could not endure this prospect. 
 Wearied to death, worn out with struggle, her health failing, 
 her spirits broken, she was unequal to the task of recommencing 
 life in poverty. She thought of the drudgery of existence 
 when every shilling has to be considered. The strain to make 
 both ends of a very short purse meet — she was unequal to it. 
 Twenty years ago she would cheerily have faced poverty. It 
 was now twenty years too late. 
 
 But how avert the danger 1 ? 
 
 The jewels she could not surrender. Even if she suffered 
 them to be held in pawn, could she be sure of raising the 
 money to redeem them when needed 1 Could she be sure that 
 Percival would not ask to see them when they were out of the 
 house ? Could she be sure that Physic would not make away 
 with them 1 ? perhaps replace the finest diamonds with imitation 
 stones which she could not detect. Was there no alternative, 
 no third course possible 1 Theresa thought of the words on 
 the tombstone, and felt a longing for rest, even if it could be 
 in the harbour of the grave only. For herself it would have 
 been well had she not recovered from the swoon into which 
 she had fallen. But she loved Percival. She loved him with 
 all her heart. He was the one object to which she clung. 
 She clung, knowing his infirmity, but forgiving that for the 
 sake of tho great good there was in him. For his sake she 
 would live — live to deliver him, if possible, from the danger 
 menacing him. 
 
 Would Physic use the will as he threatened 1 Might she 
 not trust that he would see that his own interests lay in 
 keeping it in his desk 1 But there would be no rest from his 
 exactions, no relief from annoyance so long as Physic retained 
 the document. Theresa again asked herself, Was there no 
 third course open to her ? And suddenly, with a scorching
 
 A MEETING. 269 
 
 flash like a lightning-stroke athwart her brain, came the 
 words of the rector. There was a third course. She might 
 threaten him, and wring the will from him through playing 
 on his fears. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 A MEETING. 
 
 Ting ! Ting ! Ting ! 
 
 The clock on the stairs struck three. Three in the after- 
 noon. And then the chimes in it began : 
 
 There is nae luck about the house, 
 There is nae luck ava'. 
 
 The clock had been an acquisition of Captain Curgenven, a 
 lover of mechanism. 
 
 Theresa started and shivered. 
 
 She was in her boudoir, seated by a small fire, in a dream. 
 At her entreaty Percival had gone back to the Tregonticks' 
 along with Justinian for the rabbit-shooting. He was re- 
 luctant to leave her, but she had insisted. She assured him 
 that it would worry her to think he was detained from his 
 sports, that her mind would be more easy if he went, that she 
 was much better after a night's rest. Percival, always 
 disposed to be sanguine, acquiesced at once in the notion that 
 she was better. He was confident that in a day or two she 
 would be herself again. He held that the doctor had ex- 
 aggerated her condition. Doctors always do such things so 
 as to enhance their merits if they cure the malady. 
 
 But Percival was less willing to accept his dismissal. 
 Notwithstanding his confidence, there lurked a doubt at the 
 bottom of his heart. 
 
 'Dear old T.,' said he, 'I can't go and amuse myself 
 when you are ill, and moping in your sick-room. 'Pon my 
 life, I shan't enjoy it, I shall be thinking about you.' 
 
 Nevertheless she persuaded him to go ; she wished it, and 
 her will was the strongest of the two. He promised to be 
 home for dinner, and Theresa undertook to come down to 
 dinner at half-past seven.
 
 270 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Ho had been away since eleven, and had lunched at the 
 house of the Tregontioka 
 
 As the afternoon crept on, so did Theresa's uneasiness. 
 At four o'clock Physic would be at Tolmenna with the 
 original will, and if it was to be seemed, it must be secured 
 then by her. The strokes of the clock on the stairs an- 
 nouncing three came on her like the shock of an earthquake. 
 The decisive moment had arrived when she must go. It 
 mattered not that she was unfit to go — go she must. An 
 interview was before her certain profoundly to agitate her, at 
 a time when she was warned to avoid all agitation. Never- 
 theless she must run the risk. 
 
 She opened the door and stole lightly down the great 
 staircase, walking on the deep pile carpet, and her tread 
 awaking no sound. No one was in the hall. 
 
 She had thrown a kerchief over her head, and drawing this 
 closely round her, she went out on the terrace. There was 
 no one about there, and she went to the bungalow without 
 encountering any one, or observing any one, either in the 
 grounds or at a window of the house, the fact being that an 
 Italian boy with a barrel-organ and a monkey in an evening 
 dress suit and white tie was at the back door, and servants, 
 gardeners, and grooms had rushed into the kitchen yard to 
 observe the antics of the creature. Theresa could hear the 
 strains of the instrument, and now and then a squeal from a 
 servant-maid, as the monkey ran to her and pulled her apron. 
 
 She entered the bungalow and pushed into the smoking- 
 room, where she hastily took down one of the pistols hung 
 on the rack against the wall, concealed it, and left the 
 bungalow in the direction of the moor. Her heart was 
 beating fast. The pulses bounded in her throat, and she 
 gasped for breath. But no sooner was she outside the park 
 walls and on the open common than her courage returned, 
 and her heart beat more evenly. She looked round. What 
 a wonderful country that was ! In our great cities the 
 mansion of a millionaire and the house crowded with squalid 
 and starving wretches are within a stone's throw. Here was 
 wild and barren country unt niched as in the times when the 
 first savage inhabitants of Britain roved there, and behind 
 the paling — divided by that only — the richest park land, 
 growing cedars and oaks and chestnuts of centuries, on land 
 cultivated through ages, and become docile to the hand of the 
 landscape gardener of the nineteenth cpntury. A thousand 
 yean — nay, two thousand intervened between this side and
 
 A MEETING. 271 
 
 that of the park wicket. Within the gate you and the 
 scenery belonged to the present epoch, outside it — in your 
 modern costume and with your modern ideas — you are an 
 anachronism. 
 
 But that was not all. A step from among the trees on to 
 the moor was a step from one atmosphere into another ; from 
 the warm, sleepy, t-oft air of the south into the bracing, 
 stimulating cold air of the north ; it was a stride from one 
 latitude to another. Nor was that all. It was a passage 
 from one flora to another ; from garden flowers of flaming hue, 
 from spreading forest trees, to pale heather and bog asphodel, 
 to grey moss and lichen soot-black or snow-white, and to no 
 sign of tree other than a stunted thorn. 
 
 The afternoon was windy ; clouds, white, piled up in 
 masses, sailed as icebergs in the cold dark-blue sky, and cast 
 indigo shadows over the moorland. Between the cloud masses 
 the sun fell over stretches of barren waste, lighting it a pale 
 sulphurous yellow. There had been rain. Some of the 
 heavy clouds had burst and poured forth a deluge. Even 
 now to the west all was a blur of blue grey cut by the half 
 arch of a rainbow. 
 
 It seemed to Theresa, as she walked on the springy turf, 
 that her sickness had passed away, that with the fresh moor 
 air she inhaled new strength. Discouragement was gone, she 
 was sanguine of success. Physic was a coward. She had but 
 to frighten him, and he would give way. The jewel-case she 
 had with her, under her cloak and left arm. It was locked, 
 and she had left the key at home in her desk. 
 
 The lapwings were wheeling and screaming, and now and 
 then came the pipe of the plover. A ring-ousel started up as 
 Theresa approached some old streaming works, flew a little 
 way, circled, uttered a plaintive remonstrance, rose, flew a 
 little further, again remonstrated, and continued the same 
 course for some distance, then gave it up and disappeared. 
 
 Theresa's way led past the Hurlers, rings of upright stones 
 planted in a prehistoric period for an unknown purpose. 
 Three of these circles remain ; a line of stones has been 
 destroyed that at one time stretched across the moor to it, 
 only two of these having been spared, standing about five and 
 a half feet above the ground. The story goes that one 
 Sunday the men of three parishes met on the moor to hurl a 
 silver ball, and see which parish sent forth the man who was 
 the best hurler. But as an interlude they began to throw 
 stones, and they threw the granite slabs to the top of the
 
 272 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 nearest hill, one on top of the other, which stand to this day, 
 and now constitute the Cheeswring. Then the men of two of 
 the parishes, Linkinghorne and Southill were faint, ami -aid 
 they would throw no more till they had drunk ale. So they 
 sent off two of their party to run for jars of beer. Then 
 the wrath of Heaven was kindled against the Sabbath- 
 breakers, and all were turned into stone, and at a distance 
 from the three circles are to be seen the two messengers petrified 
 in the act of running. 1 In the flying Lights and shadows 
 there was something startling in the appearance of the^e 
 clusters of standing stones about the height of a man, some 
 black with lichen, others white with spar, now dark against 
 a background of moor that lay in suusliine, themselves over- 
 shadowed by a sailing cloud. Then the condition was 
 reversed, all the waste behind steeped in purple, these stones 
 gleaming out like ghosts in a dance ; and in the rapidly 
 shifting light and shades they seemed endowed with motion, 
 to be tossing, and lightly careering in circle, whilst the two 
 outrunners in stooping position actually appeared to advance 
 in their race for ale. No wonder that the place is avoided at 
 night as ' whisht,' when even by day it has such an unearthly 
 aspect. 
 
 But Theresa had no thoughts to bestow on bird or stone ; 
 she hugged the precious case to her side, and with her right 
 hand felt the pistol that she had passed through the leather 
 girdle round her waist. 
 
 She could not stand still without feeling the earth heave 
 and lurch under her feet, and her head spin. But whilst 
 walking she was unconscious of her weakness ; she was 
 animated by the hope to have done for ever with the 
 annoyance caused by Physic. She had resolved, as soon as 
 she had got the will from him, that she would persuade 
 Percival to dismiss the man from his service. One so 
 unscrupulous in the matter of the will would be unscrupulous 
 in other matters. 
 
 Theresa had hardly reached Tolmenna before Physic 
 arrived, riding upon a grey cob. He wore tight breeches 
 and boots. In his hand was a crop. He had on a long great- 
 coat. 
 
 ' How do, ma'am?' said ho, with insolently familiar nod as 
 he trotted past. ' I'll hitch up and be at your service 
 directly.' Then changing his mind he drew rein. ' I say — I 
 
 1 So the story as told the author near the spot.
 
 A MEETING. 273 
 
 heard a rumour that your ladyship was ill, so I e'en rode to 
 Curgenven to inquire. They told me you were better, but 
 not fit to come down-stairs. On my word, I didn't expect to 
 see you here, after that. I came on to have a look at my bit 
 of property, where I'm going to open a mine.' He turned his 
 keen eyes round, raised his voice, and shouted, ' Hallo there ! 
 What, you gal ! what are you doing on my lands 1 I'll have 
 you up for trespass.' This to Esther, whom his sharp eye had 
 detected. 
 
 He was off his cob in a minute. ' Look here, gal,' said he, 
 'you take the bridle and lead my grey up and down, and I'll 
 give you a fourpenny-bit, which is more money than you have 
 earned honestly so far, and having got will know how to spend.' 
 
 He threw the rein to Esther, who came forward sullenly and 
 doubtfully, and seemed inclined to refuse. When, however, 
 she saw that Physic wished to speak to Mrs. Curgenven, she 
 took the rein with an impatient jerk of the hand and a toss of 
 her head. 
 
 1 Now look here, young savage,' said Physic, ' I've a word 
 or two with this lady here that ain't for your ears. It's about 
 the mine, it is, I'm going to open here — wheal l something or 
 other. I'll call it after her, whatever her Christian name is, 
 with her good permission, and that's what I'll ask her, so sheer 
 off to leeward.' 
 
 Esther looked at Theresa with inquiry, and when she saw 
 that it was the lady's desire that she should comply with the 
 orders given, she led the horse away in the direction of the 
 Hurlers, and a mass of granite fragments heaped into a cairn 
 hid her from the agent and Theresa. 
 
 ' So then,' said Physic, ' you've come notwithstanding sick- 
 ness, or was that put on, eh 1 You don't relish the prospect of 
 turning out into the cold. I would not were I in the squire's 
 place or yours. By George ! it makes me laugh to think how 
 cleverly you played your little game. I confess I was taken 
 aback, and could not understand it when you gave me the 
 sack. " Why ! " said I to myself, " confound the woman, is she 
 demented 2 Here is she without a penny to bless herself with, 
 and when she gets an offer from me — an offer at which ten 
 thousand girls would jump — she refuses me." I couldn't make 
 out the sense of it. I knew you were clever. I didn't know 
 how clever. I allow you, I was sore when I heard that Mr. 
 Percival had succeeded in securing you, or rather that you had 
 
 1 Wheal (huel) is Cornish for mine.
 
 274 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 succeeded in securing him. But I laughed. It was darned 
 clever, and it explained the puzzle. However, you don't escape 
 scot free. You'll have to pay me for the honour and enjoyment 
 of being squiress of Curgeuven. So now — which is it to be — a 
 thousand -pound cheque or the jewel-box] ' 
 
 ' Have you brought the will?' 
 
 ' Rather think I have.' 
 
 ' Not a copy ? The original ? ' 
 
 ' Do you doubt me? Fair dealing is my word.' 
 
 ' Mr. Physic,' said Theresa, ' I have been ill, and ordered by 
 the doctor not to be excited, or to be troubled about any matter, 
 as my heart is ail'ected. I have come here this evening at great 
 risk to myself, and I ask you, under the circumstances, to give 
 me a little longer time in which to consider what you have said, 
 and the alternatives set before me.' 
 
 'Not another day, not another hour! Very sorry, 'pon 
 my soul 1 am, that you've been ill. I can see it in your 
 handsome face that you ain't up to mark. But, bless you ! 
 it's like having a tooth drawn, the worst is the making up 
 your mind to it. Jt's the thinking over them beautiful 
 diamonds and emeralds as has upset you. Of course it is. A 
 la'ly don't fancy parting with such things as those. It is like 
 taking the blood out of her heart. I'm tremendously sorry you 
 have been worrited over them jewels, but it comes in the course 
 of business. It's a deal ; you give me the jewels and I'll give 
 you the will. I reckon it's worth more to you to have the will 
 than to have a few trays of gewgaws. Why — the will means 
 a comfortable house, a fine estate, and a position as a county 
 lady. You will have the means of buying other jewellery — any 
 amount of sham ; and who's to tell that it is sliam ? I know 
 what you're afraid of — lest these should be asked after. Leave 
 that to me. I'll get you shams as '11 pass very well. You 
 haven't said a word to the squire, 1 suppose, about this affair I ' 
 
 Theresa shook her head. She had drawn her long dark cloak 
 about her, and wrapped it round her with her aims crossed 
 under the cloak. Very white and deathlike her face appeared 
 by contrast with the black cloth cloak. The cloak was one 
 Penival had given her, a Belgian cloak, such as is worn by the 
 women in the markets of Bruges and Ghent, with a silk-lined 
 hood, and a brass clasp at the breast. She had tied a purple 
 silk kerchief over her hair, knotted under her chin. 
 
 'You insist on the thing being settled at once?' she asked 
 in a low tone, and slowly. 
 
 ' Most assuredly. Look here. I'm going to work a
 
 A MEETING. 275 
 
 company and have a niine here, and I need money to set the 
 affair on wheels.' 
 
 ' Let me look at the will.' 
 
 He put his hand into a pocket of his long great-coat, a 
 pocket on the inside, and drew forth a packet. 
 
 ' Here you are,' said he. ' And I pray you to observe that 
 I have got capacious pockets. I came provided so that I could 
 stow the jewel-case away in one of them.' 
 
 ' Give me the will.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Physic with a laugh. • Give you the will, 
 and away you would run fleet as a doe, thinking to make off 
 with it, and without fulfilling your part of the bargain. How 
 am I to know that you have brought the jewel-case with you ] ' 
 
 ' Satisfy yourself with your own eyes.' 
 
 Theresa drew forth the case and held it before her. 
 
 ' Very well,' said the agent. ' So far so good. Now, you 
 put that in my hand, and I will put the document you so covet 
 into yours. We'll deliver up simultaneously.' 
 
 Slapping his boot with his crop he turned and looked about 
 him. Esther was not visible, but the cob was ; she had 
 thrown herself down on the granite cairn, and was allowing the 
 cob to munch the grass as far as he could reach, restrained by 
 her hand and the bridle, that she had unbuckled on one side of 
 the bit. 
 
 ' It's all right,' said Physic. He put the whip into his 
 mouth, across, and held out the will with cue hand whilst 
 laying hold eagerly of the case with the other. 
 
 Theresa at once secured the will in her bosom. 
 
 ' Wait, my beauty ! ' said the agent, removing the whip 
 from his mouth, ' I've not done yet. Where is the key 1 ' 
 
 1 Here ! ' exclaimed Theresa, suddenly drawing the pistol, 
 and presenting it at his head. 
 
 Physic sprang back. 
 
 'Now,' said Theresa, 'give me back the case immediately.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' answered the agent, recovering himself. ' A 
 pretty trick for a stage-player. But it won't do ; you can't 
 scare me. Why, bless you ! you ain't got the pistol cocked, 
 much less charged.' 
 
 Theresa at once drew back the cock. 
 
 ' Give me up the jewel-case ! ' 
 
 Physic whirled his crop about to bring it down across her 
 hand. ' You hit me once across the knuckles,' said Physic 
 savagely ; ' now I'll pay you with interest. By George ! I'll 
 give you a wale across them lily-whites 1 '
 
 276 MRS. (TIUIKWKN. 
 
 He swung the crop again, and set his teeth. In a moment, 
 before the blow fell, there was an explosion. 
 
 Theresa saw the Hash, felt the shock in hor hand without 
 understanding what had happened ; saw Physic stagger, as 
 though tipsy, and fall in a heap on the sward. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 OFF. 
 
 Theresa stood like one of the Hurlera or Runners, 
 motionless, petrified. She could not realize at once what had 
 happened ; she was not conscious of having drawn the trigger. 
 Her finger had contracted instinctively before the fall of the 
 whip. That the pistol was loaded had not entered her 
 imagination. She had forgotten altogether that Esther had 
 charged it, offered it to her, and when she had declined to 
 experimentalize with it, had replaced it loaded on the rack a 
 few days ago. She had thought to frighten Physic, certainly 
 not to kill him. He lay motionless before hor, with a bullet 
 in his heart. Theresa's senses were sharpened to acuteness at 
 that moment ; she saw, and heard, and smelt with preter- 
 natural keenness— saw Physic on the ground, with two boot- 
 soles turned towards her, and saw that the sole of one boot 
 had been patched, and that the patching nails were bright ; 
 she heard the cob whinny ; and she smelt gunpowder. But 
 she could not think ; she could not put together the chain of 
 events, and understand how this terrible accident had taken 
 place. She was roused by the voice of Esther. 
 
 ' Oh, jimmeny ! You've done it ! ' 
 
 She tried to turn her head and to speak ; she could do 
 neither. Esther went to the fallen man, touched him, looked 
 in his face, and came back to Theresa. 
 
 'He's dead, I reckon, dead as a want' (mole) 'on a linney ' 
 (cattle-shed) ' door. Whativer is to be done?' 
 
 Theresa was in no condition to speak. 
 
 ' L say — now,' Esther looked at the dead man, then at the 
 lady, ' 'tes a hanging matter, I reckon. Lord ! I often said 
 as I would like to do it, and do it I would ; but now 'tes done,
 
 OFF. 277 
 
 it's another matter altogether, and I never 'd ha' picked up 
 courage to do it. But, Lor' ! what is to be done now 1 It'll 
 niver do for them to take you to prison and hang you — a lady, 
 and so good. I'll tell 'ee what — I'll take it all on myself. 
 Ees — I will for sure sartain, and let 'm try to catch me. 
 They won't do it. There, lady ! don't y' take on and be 
 afraid. I'll pretend I did it ; and if they do hang me, it's no 
 great odds, I'm sure.' 
 
 Theresa did not stir, she remained stupefied with terror ; 
 then Esther laid hold of her arm, shook her, and walked with 
 her a few paces away from the corpse. 
 
 ' Look y' here,' said Esther, ' what do y' mean now by 
 holding thickey pistern ? Why, them as seed y' wi' her sure 
 enough would say you did it. Give her to me.' 
 
 She twisted the weapon out of the hand of Theresa, who 
 now drew a long breath, and put up her hand to her brow. 
 When her eyes no longer rested on the body with the 
 upturned patched boot-soles, her spellbound condition began to 
 yield. 
 
 ' It couldn't be helped,' said Esther reassuringly. ' I 
 reckon that when gran'mither cast the eye on him and ill- 
 wished him, it were sure to come from one or other. He 
 ought never to ha' turned us out o' Tolmenna. He brought 
 it on his own head. What had he done to y' that you took 
 the pistern to 'n 1 But never mind, you can tell me that 
 another day. Now be peart ' (smart), ' and get back to 
 Curgenven, and leave the rest to me.' 
 
 Theresa was in that condition in which obedience to an- 
 other's will was the only course she could take. She could 
 neither think for herself, nor consider the consequences of 
 what had taken place ; she therefore drew her cloak about her 
 with a cramp-like spasm, and walked in the direction indicated 
 by Esther, at first slowly, hardly dragging one foot after the 
 other, then quicker, and finally almost at a run. As she 
 placed distance between herself and the corpse, animation 
 returned, her muscles became flexible, her pulses throbbed, 
 and the terror, instead of striking her with paralysis, became 
 a goad urging her to fly the spot. Panting, shuddering, 
 bathed in perspiration, she passed thi-ough the park, re- 
 entered the house, and regained her room unnoticed. When 
 there she divested herself of keichief and cloak, put them away, 
 and then sank into her chair, covered her eyes, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Wherever she went, whatever she undertook, she was led
 
 278 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 into disaster ; she had, however, never previously been 
 brought into such a situation as the present, that threatened 
 not herself only, but the whole family into which she had 
 been taken. 
 
 In the meanwhile Esther had stepped back to the body ; she 
 knelt beside it, and assured herself that life was extinct. 
 'I'h. ii she stood with folded arms, her feet in a heather bush, 
 musing, and looking at the dead man. She had the pistol in 
 her hand. She was not oppressed with any of the horror or 
 fear that had taken liold of Theresa. In her rude mind she was 
 not capable of realizing all that death was. The man who 
 had sent her grandfather to prison, who had turned the old 
 people and herself out of their house and had torn it down, was 
 lying dead before her, and he had been served as he deserved, 
 lie was now innocuous, and the main thought that occupied 
 her mind was whether it would now be possible for her 
 grandparents to return to Tolmenna and rebuild the ruins. 
 She had hated the agent, and yet, as he lay before her dead, 
 with his ugly face turned to the light, and the flying shadows 
 and sun-gleams dancing over it, she was conscious of a sense 
 of pity. 
 
 ' Deary me, now ! ' said she. ' 'Tes curious. I couldn' 
 kill the hoodwall, and I took aim at 'n. I reckon 'twere this 
 very pistern ; and sure then I said I'd never 'a missed had I 
 fired at Physic. But I'm not so sartain neither now if he'd 
 'a stood facin' me as I'd 'a had the sperit to do it. Deary 
 life, it's edieation does it. There's me can't read vitty at all, 
 and the lady there — as easy as anything. Her shot 'n — 
 straight on end. It's edieation does it.' 
 
 She stooped and looked at Physic once more, and low saw 
 the jewel-case that had fallen from his hand in the convulsion 
 of death. 
 
 She recognized this at once, and wondered how he had come 
 by it. She took it up, and going to the ruins of the cottage 
 secreted it in a place she well knew under the floor, where 
 her grandfather had been accustomed to hide his money. 
 
 Then she walked away in the direction of cultivated land. 
 
 As she was descending from the moor into a lane she met 
 Pike the horsebreaker, leading Physic's cob by the rein. 
 
 ' I say, Esther Morideg ! Have y' seen Mr. Physic any- 
 wheres] Here's his cob running loose. He passed my house 
 not an hour ago, and said to my missus he were going to 
 Tolmenna about his mine. I caught the cob running down 
 the laue.'
 
 OFF. 279 
 
 'Pi.ysic is dead I' said Esther. 'I've shot 'n ; and here's 
 the pistern. Take it back to Curgenven.' 
 
 ' You've shot him 1 ' 
 
 'Aye, I reckon. "Why did he turn gran'fer out o' the 
 house? What else could he expect, and ill- wished too by 
 gran'mother ! ' 
 
 ' Physic dead ! ' 
 
 ' Aye ! and here be the pistern as have done it. I borrowed 
 her t'other day I were i' the bungalow up to Curgenven, and 
 I took away the pistern wi' me. I thought I'd punish that 
 chap for turning us out o' our house, and tearing it abroad. 
 I've done it, and there be the tool back. They'll be after me 
 to put me i' the clink, I reckon, so I'm off.' 
 
 She gave him the pistol. 
 
 ' No, thank you,' said he. ' They'll be having me pinned 
 up if they find me wi' that. You come along of me to where 
 there's some one else, and tell the tale, and then it's right 
 enough.' 
 
 ' Very well.' 
 
 ' Come along to the old turnpike house, my missus '11 hear 
 what you have to say, and then you can leave the pistol there 
 tind welcome, but I wi'n't take it wi'out a witness, and risk 
 the noose round my neck. He were an aggravating sort o' a 
 chap, he were, and I don't blame you. He didn't treat your 
 folks as 'a ought to 'a treated 'em, and this be the consekence. 
 Well, it's a pity if they swing you, and a shame too. But 
 I've gotten all I wanted from Physic, and so I don't bear 
 him a grudge. If it 'd been your gran'fer as 'ad done it, I 
 shouldn't ha' been surprised, but it's lively games for a giglot ' 
 (young girl). 
 
 As Pike walked alongside of Esther he turned his eyes out 
 of their corners to observe her. She strode along the lane 
 with light tread, upright as a wand, easy in every movement, 
 her head erect, covered with its dense cloud of shining hair. 
 
 A sense of compunction came over him. This handsome 
 girl — was he to be the means of bringing her to her death 1 
 He would not have liked to ride a well-formed colt so as to 
 break its wind or throw it down and cut its knees, and he did 
 not relish the thought of having a hand in the destruction of 
 so splendid a girl. 
 
 ' I say, Esther,' he began, ' I don't care to ha' naught to do 
 wi't.' 
 
 ' Wi' what, maister?' 
 
 * Why, sure enough, wi' your being hanged. I don't say
 
 280 MRS. CUROENVEN. 
 
 but wi' the agravation, Physic desarved it all, and that I 
 wouldn't 'a done the like myself in a liko agravation, but I'm 
 not over-pleased to put my fingers into the matter.' 
 
 1 It won't hurt y'.' 
 
 ' No — it won't hurt me. But I don't care to have to 
 appear against you, maiden, and mebbe say what may cause 
 you to swing 1 shu'dn't be easy after.' 
 
 ' You needn't be afeared, Turnipike, they'll niver catch me. 
 How can they 1 There's nobody knows the moor as I do. 
 Why, if I ran out over Trewortha Marsh, could they follow ? 
 I reckon if they tried they'd be stopped. Or Crowdy Marsh 
 nother -that's every bit and crumb as bad. And the rocks 
 and stones o' Brown Willy and Rough Tor. Be there not scores 
 on scores o' hiding-places there?' 
 
 'That's well enough, but you can't live on air.' 
 
 ' Who'd tell tales o' me 't Never you fear. Folks wouldn't 
 let me starve when they knowed I were in hiding. I tell y' 
 nigh to Rough Tor is a fogou ' (cave) 
 
 ' Nay, not a word ; I don't want to hear nothing about 
 hiding-places. I wish you'd go and tell your tale about 
 shooting thickey chap to some one else. I tell y' clean out, 
 I won't know naught more about it, and here's good-bye 
 according.' 
 
 He jumped on Physic's horse that he had been leading and 
 galloped down the lane and out upon the road, where he dis- 
 mounted and turned the cob adrift. 
 
 4 1 will go to Turnipike's missus for all that,' said Esther, 
 and walked on. She had hardly reached the road before she 
 met the rector, combing his whiskers, and blandly smiling at 
 first one hedge and then the other, as though they were 
 dissenters to be conciliated. 
 
 ' Pars'n ! ' said Esther, striding up to him, ' can y' write 
 now 1 ' 
 
 ' Write, my child, of course I can. Don't I write two 
 sermons every week and three in Lent ? ' 
 
 'Will y' now come in wi' me to Betsy Pike's, and write out 
 what I want to say?' 
 
 'Certainly, with the utmost alacrity. And what is it 
 about I ' 
 
 ' About that ou'd Physic' 
 
 'Physic ! What iibout him? 
 
 'About the shutting of him.' 
 
 ' Shutting — shutting, where has he boon shut up ? ' 
 
 ' He's a-shut through the heart, and doad as a want ' (mole).
 
 OFF. 281 
 
 ' Gracious me ! ' 
 
 The rector stood still, and his jaw dropped. 
 
 1 I'd like y', pars'n, to take down all I've gotten to say 
 about it. And there — there's the pistern as did it. Smell 
 to it, her's got the smitch ' (smell) ' o' powder about her 
 still.' 
 
 ' Merciful goodness ! ' Mr. Pamphlet remained motionless, 
 gasping. 
 
 ' Aud I want y' to put it all down on paper how it were 
 a-done.' 
 
 ' Shot — Mr. Physic shot ! You wicked girl, you are making 
 a joke — a miserable practical joke ! ' 
 
 'It's all right,' said Esther. 'Come wi' me if you doubt, 
 and I'll show you where he lies at Tolmenna. What made he 
 go for to drive gran'fer and us — me and my ou'd grammer out 
 o' the house for, if he didn't expect a breakfast off lead 1 My 
 grammer ill-wished him, and it's come to pass. Her said it 
 would. Will y' now please come and put it all down in 
 writing 1 And please tak' the pistern and give her to the 
 per lice.' 
 
 '//—I!— I!' 
 
 Mr. Pamphlet flushed the colour of a mulberry. ' I'll have 
 nothing whatever to do with this. / mixed up in a police 
 case like this ! / have to appear in a court as witness, and 
 be cross-questioned ; it might interfere with my prospects — I 
 mean my ministerial efficacy. I'll have nothing to do with 
 it. Don't touch me ! Don't let me see that horrible pistol ! 
 Go away ! go away ! Gracious ! go away ! Don't come near 
 me — don't stop me ! ' and the Revd. Mr. Rector walked, 
 almost ran, to escape the girl. 
 
 Esther stood irresolute for a few moments, looking after 
 him, when she heard a sharp peremptory voice demand, ' What 
 is the matter 1 ' 
 
 She turned and saw Jane Curgenven leading Physic's cob. 
 That good lady had been paying a parochial visit to the 
 Turnipikes, to administer advice, reprimand, and a tract, and 
 her father had promised to walk along the road and meet her 
 as she returned. On leaving the cottage of the Pikes, Jane 
 had found the agent's cob cropping the grass by the roadside, 
 and had arrested it by the bridle, and was leading the animal. 
 She concluded that the agent had hitched his beast up outside 
 a farm or cottage whilst he entered on business, and that it 
 had broken away. She would lead the cob to Curgenven, and 
 then Physic could have it from the stables when he came for it.
 
 282 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' What is the matter ? ' asked Jane, surprised to see her 
 father careering along the road at so exceptional a rate, so 
 inconsistent with his rectorial dignity. 
 
 'Pars'u is right curious,' said Esther. 'I told 'n somethin', 
 and I axed 'n somethin', and it made 'n run like a mazed 
 hare.' 
 
 1 What was it ? ' 
 
 1 It were naught but I told 'n as Lawyer Physic were dead. 
 He be shut through tho heart, and I axed 'n to take the 
 pistern and write down what I had to say.' 
 
 ■ Physic dead 1 ' 
 
 ' Ees. Folks mostly be when they's shut. That's the 
 reason why his cob be a-runnin' loose.' 
 
 1 Come with me this instant,' said Jane Curgeuven. ' Come 
 with me this instant, you abominable girl. Come with me to 
 Mrs. Pike's house. I'll have this cleared up at once, and I'll 
 lock you up there in the coal-hole, till I can send for the 
 police to have you taken to prison.' 
 
 ' No — not that,' said Esther, with a contemptuous shrug of 
 her shoulders and toss of her glowing head of hair. ' I'll not 
 be took and pinned i' a gaol, not I. But there — take the 
 pistern. Thickey's the chap as did it. Her as shut 'n ain't 
 such a terrible distance off. If you like to say 'twere I, you're 
 welcome. None else were near. That's why I come here, and 
 axed pars'n to take it all down. Now you know about it. 
 There's the pistern, and you can tell the ptrlice, but take me 
 they shan't.' 
 
 She put the pistol into Jane Curgenven's hand, turned, ran 
 up the lane towards the moor, and was lost. 
 
 Jane Curgeuven with promptitude faced about, and still 
 leading Physic's cob went back to the cottage she had left 
 recently. There she halted at the door, and called out the 
 two eldest children, Tom and Jesse. 
 
 'Tom,' said she, ' jump into the saddle, and ride as hard as 
 you can gallop for the police, and here's sixpence for your 
 pains.' Then to herself, ' I must see that Esther be caught 
 and brought to the gallows.' 
 
 'Jesse,' said she, 'go as fast as you can toddle for the 
 doctor, and here is twopence for your trouble.' Then to 
 herself, ' I must see what can be done for Physic, before it be 
 too late.'
 
 CHEATED. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 CHEATED. 
 
 Never within the memory of man was such commotion 
 caused in Curgenven as by the tidings that rapidly spread 
 relative to the murder of Physic, the agent — no, not even by 
 the suicide of Captain Lambert. The latter was a death 
 leading to no very serious consequences, or no more serious 
 consequences than a shift in the squireship. The present 
 death entailed as a corollary a capital trial, and ' some one to 
 swing for it,' as it was expressed. Who that some one was 
 hardly anybody doubted ; and it added to the zest of the 
 excitement that this somebody was a female, and one whom 
 all had regarded with suspicion, if not with disgust. The 
 school-master had something to say about it, and to show how 
 it all came of Esther not having reached the second standard. 
 The Scripture reader had something to say about it, and to 
 put it down to her having boiled her kettle with his ' Are you 
 converted 1 ' — a tract he had specially commended to her. 
 The mission woman had something to say about it. She 
 attributed the crime to Esther's not having been confirmed. 
 
 The women of Curgenven village ran in and out of each 
 other's houses, talking over what had taken place. No woman 
 was to be found in her own dwelling ; every one had enter- 
 tained mistrust of Esther ; every one had expected that the 
 turning of the Moridegs out of Tolmenna would bring bad 
 luck on the head of Lawyer Physic. 
 
 The men congregated after work-hours in the public-house 
 or coffee-tavern, and concurred in their view that it served 
 Physic right ; that they did not pity him, yet that nevertheless 
 they could not cordially approve of the method adopted for 
 ridding the estate and neighbourhood of him. 
 
 The children in the school could neither do an addition sum 
 rightly nor spell a sentence correctly, the day following the 
 death of Physic. The farmers could get no work done on their 
 farms. The labourers were engaged in discussing the event, 
 not on driving their ploughs. 
 
 All day long a train of pilgrims visited the scene of the 
 murder ; and all who visited the spot brought away with them 
 some memento of the crime — a blade of grass on which the 
 dead man had laiu, a bit of moss stained with blood, a smoked
 
 284 MRS. CTJKGENVEN. 
 
 wad from the pistol, a chip off the block of stone against which 
 his head had rested. In mediaeval times people greedily collected 
 relics of martyrs, now-a-days they gather relics of murderers 
 or the murdered with equal greed. The gardeners of Curgenven 
 Hall congregated in the pot ting-shed and let the fire go out in 
 the furnace that warmed the conservatories. The c oachm a n 
 and grooms sat over the fire in the saddle-room, smoking, and 
 sent into the house for cider, over which to argue relative to 
 the chances of Esther being caught. In the dairy the milk 
 wis burnt when the cream was being scalded, and the pigs in 
 tin' Bty treat that day without their bucket of wash ; but tho 
 fowls had a double feed of Indian corn, hastily thrown bhem 
 by the maid without stopping to measure the proper allowance. 
 In the kitchen the soup was allowed to boil over and perfume 
 the whole house with its savour on the red-hot .stove-plate, 
 and the butler sent out a silver egg-spoon and a dessert fork 
 for the kitchen-maid to empty down the sink. No one in all 
 ( lurgenven could think of anything but the murder, and every 
 one expressed an opinion thereon save two people — the rector, 
 who reserved his, and Theresa, who was not, at her husband's 
 insistence, told of it. 
 
 It was known that the police constable had been summoned 
 by Mrs. Curgenven the elder, that she had stated to him how 
 that Esther Morideg had confessed to her the murder of Mr. 
 Physic, and had given her the pistol with which the murder 
 was committed. It was further known that the constable had 
 viewed the body, along with the surgeon, and found life extinct, 
 and that he had gone off at once to endeavour to arrest Esther 
 in the temporary habitation occupied by her grandparents ; 
 that he had failed to find her there, or to obtain any informa- 
 tion as to her whereabouts from the old people ; that accord- 
 ingly he had returned to Curgenven, whero he had demanded 
 a warrant from Mr. Percival Curgenven, who was a magistrate ; 
 and that, armed with this warrant, he had departed for Liskeard 
 to consult the head of the police. 
 
 The footman from the Hall was suddenly elevated to being 
 the hero of the day, for he could tell how he had seen Esther 
 MLorideg fire out of the window of the bungalow, and how 
 sin- had asked him to stand that she might have a shot at him, 
 and how she had then and there declared her intention to take 
 the life of Mr. Physic, bo which threat he, John Thomas, had 
 not paid much attention at the time, thinking it mere bravado ; 
 and he had overheard expressions of anger made use of by the 
 girl at having been dispossessed of the house at Tolmenna, but
 
 CHEATED. 285 
 
 which now he was ready to swear to before the judges, and 
 stand to. The butler, not to be behind, declared how that he 
 was the last person who had seen Mr. Physic alive, as he had 
 called at the house to inquire after ' Missus.' That cannot 
 have been more than half-an-hour before he was shot. 
 
 Then Pike, the horsebreaker, finding that John Thomas was 
 the lion of the day, put in his claim to be a lion also in a 
 degree still higher. He had seen Esther Morideg immediately 
 after the murder walking with the pistol in her hand, and 
 smelling of gunpowder down to her toes. And Esther had 
 told him how that Lawyer Physic were shot. ' But,' said 
 Pike, with a qualm of pity for the girl, ' he would swear before 
 the most intelligent jury, and the oldest and venerablest judge 
 in England, that she said it was pure accident ; that is to say, 
 Lawyer Physic had been impertinent to her, and in self- 
 defence she'd done it.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said some of the women, ' he was a cruel impident 
 piece o' goods.' 
 
 ' Ise sure,' said a very ugly old spinster, ' he made eyes at 
 me oft enough as though he'd eat me ; and what he'd 'a said 
 had I give he the chance the Lord knows.' 
 
 But the view that Physic had been killed by accident or by 
 Esther in self-defence did not find general favour. It was not 
 to be denied that the Moridegs had been given the utmost 
 provocation ; that the old man had threatened ' to do ' for the 
 agent ; that he had already been in prison for having attacked 
 him ; and it was argued that as the girl had gloried in her 
 grandfather's act, she had endeavoured to outdo it. Then the 
 story rapidly evolved myth about it. Some one had said that 
 Physic had been killed, not by a bullet from a pistol, but by 
 a slug from the old moor-man's gun. This having been partly 
 overheard, was seized on by the person who half-heard it, and 
 who, being desirous of heightening the tragedy, declared he 
 had heard that when found Physic was half eaten by slugs, 
 that had worked their way into his heart and liver. "Where- 
 upon the blacksmith, who set up to be an original thinker 
 and an agnostic, said the whole story was false, no murder 
 had been committed, but the agent had died of a sluggish 
 liver. Some youths who were wont to hang about the forge, 
 or who affected to be free-thinkers, though actually incapable 
 of thinking either freely or in bands, adopted the blacksmith's 
 view, and said that they did not believe in the pistol, and that 
 Esther was an uncommonly handsome girl, and there was no 
 harm in her. It was naught but jealousy and spite accusing
 
 286 MRS. OURGEXVEN. 
 
 her of a crime thai had not been committed. Thereupon all 
 the elderly, ugly, and married women, and all the pretty young 
 and unmarried women as will, ran together as drops of mercury 
 and coalesced in one body of opinion, that certainly Esther 
 was guilty, that she was vicious by nature, of a malignant 
 humour, capable of any crime, and entirely devoid of good 
 looks, as she was of Christianity. Finally, the whole popula- 
 tion of Curgenven was broken up into factions, one hoi ling 
 that Esther had shot the agent, another that he had been shot 
 by the grandfather, a third that he had not been shot at all, 
 but had died suddenly of a sluggish liver, or something like it, 
 somehow connected with slugs. 
 
 Theresa had returned home in a condition of mental numb- 
 ness, dominated by terror, not for herself. She did not consider 
 the danger to which she was exposed, she was conscious only 
 of the fact that she had taken a life — that a man who lived, 
 and thought, and schemed, and in his fashion enjoyed himself, 
 had by her act been thrust out of this world through the veil 
 into the unseen. 
 
 She had never intended this, never thought of violently 
 sweeping the man who tormented her from her path. She 
 had hoped to frighten him ; the rector had suggested that she 
 should do this. She did not know that the pistol was loaded. 
 It had not occurred to her to essay whether it were or not. 
 She had not loaded it herself, and she was too bewildered to 
 be able to consider how it was that it came to be charged with 
 powder and shot, and provided with a cap. 
 
 She could see before her everywhere those upturned boot- 
 soles with their patches, one patched across the front, the 
 other half-heeled. Physic trod down his right boot on the 
 inside, and was continually obliged to have pieces put on to 
 rectify the abrasions. In this new portion the nails were 
 bright and of brass, the nails did not show in the older portion 
 of the sole. If Theresa looked at a picture, the soles stood 
 between her and it, and behind the soles was a black shapeless 
 shadow. If she looked at her bed, the soles were there, thrust 
 out from under the valance ; out of the window — they were 
 between her and the landscape. Moreover the scent of the 
 powder followed her. The flowers on her table, the geraniums 
 on the stairs, all exhaled a savour of exploded gunpowder. 
 
 Her maid came up with the tray, and beef-tea and toast. 
 The beef-tea steamed like powder, the toast tasted of it. 
 Theresa turned her head aside, she could not endure the food. 
 
 Hours passed, the night closed in. She sat looking into the
 
 CHEATED. 287 
 
 fire, and seeing soke in the coals thrust out between the bars, 
 then disappearing, and fresh boot-soles appearing. She became 
 restless, feverish with impatience when none were distinguish- 
 able, waiting, expecting till they re-appeared somewhere among 
 the coals or among the flames. 
 
 Then Mr. Curgenven arrived. He had been summoned from 
 the shooting partly to sign a warrant to enable the police to 
 arrest Esther Morideg, suspected of having caused the death 
 of Mr. Physic. He had listened to the story, had done what 
 was required of him, and then gave orders to the servants to 
 maintain silence on the matter before their mistress, whose 
 health would not suffer her to be agitated. 
 
 He came up-stairs to see her, to kiss her, take her hand, 
 and feel whether it were cold or feverish, and inquire how she 
 was. He was shocked and alarmed at her appearance, the 
 stony look of her face, the sunken eyes, the bloodless lips. 
 Never before had she failed to respond to his tenderness, to 
 smile when he came in, and address him with pleasant words 
 of welcome. But now she seemed hardly to see him, the 
 muscles of her face were set as though they would never 
 relax, and her tongue was tied so that she could not speak. 
 
 He was concerned. Instead of being better than when he 
 left her, she was markedly worse. He determined to send for 
 the doctor, and urged her at once to go to bed. 
 
 She listlessly assented, and, when he had left and sent up 
 her maid, allowed herself to be undressed. But on the servant 
 beginning to remove Theresa's gown, there fell from her breast 
 the long envelope that contained the will. She had forgotten 
 it till that moment. The maid, by stooping to pick it up, 
 attracted her attention ; animation was restored, and snatch- 
 ing the envelope from the girl's hands, she said, ' Leave me ! 
 Leave me for ten minutes. I do not want you,' and stood 
 trembling and watching till the maid had closed the door 
 behind her. 
 
 The fixity in which her faculties had been sealed was gone, 
 exchanged for a flutter of conflicting emotions. She thought 
 now of the will, no more of that ghastly spectacle of 
 upturned boot-soles on the moor. She had the will — she had 
 that very document for which she had risked so much ; and 
 now, with the fire burning in the grate, it was in her power 
 to destroy it, and put an end for ever to the anxiety and 
 threat of trouble this hateful document carried with it. 
 
 She hastily tore open the envelope, walked to the dressing- 
 table, where two candles were burning beside the looking-
 
 288 MRS CURGENVEN. 
 
 glass, and spread the will out upon the mirror, that she might 
 sati.-fv her eyea (hat Bhe really « I i < 1 hare in her power the 
 coveted document. She read it through in feverish haste. 
 As she read she recalled every word. It was the same that 
 
 she had seen at Physic's office, and yet 
 
 She dropped one hand that was holding the paper, and in so 
 doing struck over one of the candles, that fell, and was 
 broken and extinguished on the carpet. She did not notice 
 this, she caught the paper up and held it to the other candle, 
 and looked at the signatures. The paper was not the same. 
 
 No, it was not the same. She had been cheated. Physic 
 had passed off on her a copy. On the original was a seal. 
 Lambert had not only signed his name, but after .^ning it, 
 he had sealed it, out of some fancy that to seal as well as to 
 sign was necessary to give force to such a deed. He had 
 sealed it with his signet that bore the Curgenven crest. On 
 this there was no seal, nothing but the signatures copied. It 
 was a transcript. A scalding rush of blood poured through 
 the veins of Theresa. After all, Physic had meant to deceive 
 her, to sell her a worthless copy, and retain in his hands the 
 original wherewith still to threaten her. 
 
 Every particle of remorse or regret for having caused his 
 death, every atom of pity for the man, died out of her soul, 
 never again to revive. He had brought her that copy with 
 protests of straight dealing, and he had met with his desert. 
 
 But a second thought now swelled up in her mind, taking 
 from her breath, and sight, and hearing. 
 
 Where was the jewel-case 1 
 
 She had put it into Physic's hands, and then had 
 endeavoured by a threat to recover it from him. The pistol 
 had heen discharged, he had fallen ; and in that moment of 
 supreme horror she had forgotten wholly the existence of the 
 case, and that it had been left in his hands. 
 
 A sickening terror oppressed her. That case would be 
 found with the dead man, and through it the truth must 
 come out. 
 
 How could the truth be concealed? That jewel-case would 
 be recognized, and it would be known that she, and she only, 
 had been in possession of it. The conclusion certain to be 
 reached was that she had had something to do with Physic 
 either immediately before, <>r at the very moment of his 
 death. How else could his having the Curgenven jewel-case 
 and the presence of the Curgenven pistol be accounted for? 
 Suspicion must inevitably fall on her — and then ! — and then !
 
 IN THE SMOKE. 289 
 
 The copy of the will was worthless. She threw it into the 
 fire, and when it was consumed, cast herself on the bed and 
 covered her eyes with her hands : not to sleep for one 
 quarter of an hour all that long night ; not to toss from side 
 to side, but to lie in one position, with her hands over her 
 burning eyes, thinking, but never reaching any solution that 
 could give her rest. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 IN THE SMOKE. 
 
 Roger Morideg and his wife were seated in the shed 
 converted temporarily into a habitation ; a fire was burning 
 in the middle, a fire of skin turf, and the smoke found its 
 way out as best it might through the thatch, so that from 
 without the hovel had the appearance of a steaming dunghill. 
 To ordinary eyes and lungs the atmosphere within would have 
 been unendurable, but it did not affect either sensibly. Old 
 Roger was adding to the fume by smoking his broken black 
 pipe, and his wife Tamsin was swinging herself whilst 
 knitting, and singing a ballad : 
 
 ' There was a woman, and a widow was she, 
 
 The red, the green, and the yellow ! 
 A daughter she had as the elm tree, 1 
 
 Oh ! the flowers that bloom in the valley ! ' 
 
 Then the old man withdrew his pipe from his mouth and 
 joined in the chorus, taking a third below the melody : 
 
 • The harp, the lute, the fife, the flute, and the cymbal, 
 Sweet goes the treble violin, 
 Oh ! the flowers that bloom in the valley 1 ' 
 
 The knitter continued : 
 
 'There came a knight all clothed in red, 
 The red, the green, and the yellow 1 
 Oh, and will you be ' 
 
 when the door was thrown open and Esther came in. 
 
 1 The Cornish elm, that grows as a poplar or a pine, small leafed. 
 
 U
 
 290 AIRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Now,' said she, 'give kimbly. 1 I've news.' 
 
 ' What be it ? No kimbly till I knaws what the news be.' 
 
 1 Physic is dead — lyin' dead to Tolmenna, and volks do say 
 as I've a shut 'n ! ' 
 
 1 How can that be ? ' asked Roger, turning to where his 
 gun usually bong, but, owing to the smoke, being unable to 
 see it, he put forth his hand and felt it. ' Aye I here her be. 
 I reckon you can't shut wi'out the instrument to do't wi'.' 
 
 1 Tis true.' said Esther, ' Physic be lyin' dead, however it 
 be he's a-gotten his death. But this 1 know, volks '11 put it 
 on me.' 
 
 1 That's like enough,' said Roger. ' There's reason there.' 
 
 1 And I must be off and hide, or I'll be ta'en and put i' the 
 clink where you was, gran'fer, and not get out so soon and so 
 peart as you.' 
 
 1 Folks '11 put it on us, for sartain sure,' said Tamsin, ' as 
 you, Roger, boar'n a malice, and I 'a ill-wished 'n. Us 'a said 
 us wished the lawyer-chap dead, and they'll say us killed 'n. 
 It's as true that as fingers be fingers and not toes.' 
 
 1 It's me, gran'fer, as they'll be after, and I must just run 
 for't. I know very well where I'll go, but I shall want a 
 thing or two, so as ' 
 
 'And where's that?' 
 
 ' I wi'n't tell,' answered Esther. ' Then you can say you 
 dun' know. It's waste o' good words telling lies, and there's 
 no pleasure in it where there's no cause.' 
 
 1 But how did Lawyer Physic come to die ? ' asked 
 Roger. 
 
 1 I'll tell y' what he looks like now, gran'fer,' said Esther. 
 ' But if you ask me how he come to look like this, why, I 
 wi'n't say, not but that I could if I would.' 
 
 After she had given a vigorous and graphic account of the 
 condition of the corpse, Roger shook his head. 
 
 • You didn't do it wi' a moorstone, that's sartain, nor wi' 
 my gun, for there she be. But lor-a-mussy, what matters 
 how he cam' by his dose o' lead so long as he got it I and no 
 one can't say but sarves him right.' 
 
 ' And they be after me. They've made up their minds I 'a 
 done it, and I wi'n't bo caught and locked up i' Bodmin goal 
 not if I knaws it, I'll run first. So now give me what 1 
 want.' 
 
 ' And what doest a want?' 
 
 1 A handsel for good news.
 
 IN THE SMOKE. 291 
 
 ' I want a reapin'-hook, and a blanket, and loaf o' bread — 
 that's all.' 
 
 ' I don't see why you need go,' said Tamsin. ' 'Tes gran'fer 
 and I hev been most for'ard wi' our words agin' Lawyer 
 Physic, and not you, Esther.' 
 
 ' Why, if I run, they'll say for sure it be I and not you, 
 and leave you old volks quiet.' 
 
 'There's something in that.' 
 
 ' And second,' said Esther, ' if I didn't do it mysel', why I 
 seed it done, and by a very good friend as I doan't want to 
 hev to send to the gallows ; and it's just this, no lies'd do in 
 this case, else I'd tell them by the scores, arid look as simple 
 as any noggy. But they wi'n't do, more's the pity. There's 
 nothin' for't but I must run.' 
 
 ' There's no hurry,' said the old woman. ' There's no reason 
 to be i' such a tarve. Set you down. You mun eat fust, afore 
 you can run the country, and I've got the taties on the boil 
 now.' 
 
 ' I don't wish to be ketched here,' said Esther. 
 
 ' There's no need you should,' answered her grandmother. 
 ' Punch '11 mind the door, and bark if any one comes nigh. 
 Then in the dimmits ' (twilight) ' you can go.' 
 
 Esther allowed herself to be persuaded. Tamsin proceeded 
 to turn the potatoes into a large earthen bowl ; with them were 
 lumps of bacon. 
 
 ' There now,' she said, ' don't scald your fingers ; help 
 yourselves as you likes.' 
 
 'I wonder now,' observed the old man, 'who'll get the 
 Tolmenna property? Lawyer Physic warn't married and had 
 no childer, and I never heard as he had kin.' 
 
 ' Then us may go back agin to the ou'd place,' said Tamsin. 
 ' That'll be brave. But 't '11 be cruel hard work buildin' of 
 her up again.' 
 
 ' I'd like to kuow who'd done it,' said the old fellow, shaking 
 his head. ' 'Tes curious. But I didn't reckon there was any 
 other but myself had the face to do it. And I didn't do it for 
 sure sartain, as I wor sittin' here and singin'. And Esther 
 couldn't 'a done it, best wishes ain't firearms. If it 'ud been 
 a knack wi' a stone, her was ekal to that, but to shut 'n,' he 
 shook his head again, ' her ain't up to them May games.' 
 
 Roger leisurely peeled a potato, set it on his knee, and before 
 eating said, 'Why, now, shu'dn't us make it out a case o' 
 phillideecee 1 then there's no trouble to nobody. Ou'd mother 
 there and I can 'a heerd 'n say he was going to do it, and were
 
 292 MRS. CTTRGENVEN. 
 
 zick o' life, and cruel uneasy in conscience ; and you, Esther, 
 can ;i seed 'n shut hisself, and there we be — no bother to nobody, 
 and satisfactory to every one consarned. Ees, I reckon that'll 
 do it. Wheer now, Esther, did he get the gun ? Was lie out 
 after woodcock 1 No, that won't come fitty. You sez 'twere 
 done wi' a bullet. Never mind. Gi'e me five minutes, and 
 I'll shape it out — killed hisself, not right in his head, had 
 terrible headaches, and conscience worser.' 
 
 ' Hist ! ' said Tamsin. 
 
 The dog was barking outside furiously. 
 
 ' Quick I ' said the old woman, as she Hung wet heather on 
 the fire, 'you throw yourself down in the f arran ' (fern), 'and 
 I'll cover you up.' 
 
 No sooner said than done ; Esther crept behind her grand- 
 mother, who at once piled fern, and sticks, and skin turf 1 
 over her. 
 
 The fire poured forth volumes of pungent white smoke that 
 filled the hovel and rolled forth at the door ; so dense was it, 
 that the policeman coming up outside, when he looked in could 
 see nothing ; his eyes ran with water, and he coughed as the 
 smoke entered his lungs. 
 
 Mrs. Morideg was rocking herself and knitting, droning her 
 song: 
 
 ' There came a knight all clothed in red, 
 The red, the green, and the yellow ! 
 "And will you be my bride ?" he said, 
 Oh ! the flowers that bloom in the valley ! ' 
 
 And Roger threw in his part lustily : 
 
 ' The liari>, the lute, the fife, the flute, and the cymbal, 
 Sweet goes the treble violin, 
 Oh ! the flowers that bloom in the valley 1 ' 
 
 The old woman continued : 
 
 ' There caine a second all clothed in green, 
 
 The red, the green, and the yellow I 
 And he said, "My fair, will you be my queen ?" 
 Oh ! the flowers ' 
 
 ' Come out ! come out, you bedlam hag ! ' shouted the police- 
 man, ' I'm no more a knight all clothed in green than you are 
 a fair maid.' 
 
 1 Of turf on the Comuh ninors there aiv two kinds, the peat turf, dugin 
 the bogs, and the skin turf, a spade-graft off the surface of the moor 
 anywhere taken where not stony.
 
 IN THE SMOKE. 293 
 
 ' Lor-a-mussy ! ' exclaimed Roger. ' To think now, it's our 
 good friend Mr. Tregaskis. And it's main glad I be to see you. 
 Step in and hev a pertatie. There be one ready peeled a-coolin' 
 on my knee, and I've a brave bit o' vat bacon atween my 
 fingers. Come now, don't y' be feared that my old 'ooman '11 
 cast her eye over y', there be such a pother o' smoke I doubt if 
 that you can see her. Come in, and be hearty welcome now. 
 And if you'll stop, I'll see if I can't find a drop o' sperit to 
 comfort y'.' 
 
 ' I cannot stay — what a confounded smoke ! Where is your 
 daughter Esther 1 ' 
 
 ' Lor' ! ' said Mrs. Morideg, ' doan't y' go a-rippin' up ou'd 
 wounds, Mister Tregaskis. Her's in heavenly glory — eighteen 
 year last Curgenven feast.' 
 
 Then she broke out into a song sung through the long 
 length and narrow breadth of Cornwall, and more familiar than 
 ' God save the Queen ' : 
 
 'Don't you zee my Billy comin', 
 
 Zittiu' on a gou'den cloud ? 
 Gardin' angels zingin' round 'n, 
 Wrapped in a goary shroud.' 
 
 Then Eoger roared out the chorus in bass to the shrill pipe of 
 Tamsin's treble : 
 
 1 Billy is the lad I do adore, 
 Billy is my darlin'. 
 Billy is a-dyin'. 
 Oh ! I fear I shall never zee 'n more ! ' 
 
 ' Always meanin',' threw in Mrs. Morideg, ' my poor daughter 
 Esther as a-died, and be now i' glory ! Praises, oh ! it's 
 groanin' matter, sure. Roger, groan there now, can't y' 1 ' 
 And both old folks began to groan as at a Revival meeting, 
 and rock themselves as they did so. 
 
 ' Oh, darn that tatie ! ' exclaimed Roger. ' Her's trummled off 
 my knee.' 
 
 1 1 do not mean your daughter ; I mean that girl, your 
 grandchild,' said the sergeant angrily. 
 
 'Ah! now why didn't y' say so, mister? Come in like 
 a friend and sit down, thickey pertatie be gettin' deadly cold, 
 saving where my knee 'a put a little warmth into her. Dear, 
 dear life ! now I be main sorry the pertatie be so dirty. Her 
 tum'led on the ground, and my ou'd wife — dirty ou'd toad — 
 han't swept 'n up fitty this mornin'.'
 
 294 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 1 Where is the girl ? I cannot come in, 1 should be stifled. 
 Can't you throw some of the stulT off the tire 1 ' 
 
 Why, Lor', Mister Tregaskis, us'd set the whole place a-hre 
 if us scattered the trade ' about ; and it 'ud make such a gashly 
 smoke, ye could oat 'n like figgy pudding.' 
 
 ' Is Esther Morideg within 1 ' 
 
 ' Gather, Lor', Mister Tregasku, whativer be you a-thinkin' 
 of ? Her's been gone five or six hours. Her went to Dosmare 
 Pool a tliut-pickin'.' 
 
 1 Flint-picking V 
 
 1 Aye so, I reckon. Them larned folks to Truro be wun'eiful 
 curious about the flints us picks up — and there's a sight on 'em 
 to be gotten to Dosmare, and her picks up a bit o' money that 
 way, and it's as good a way as yourn nor mine, I s'pose.' 
 
 ' That's false. She has not been to Dosmare. She has been 
 to Tolmenna.' 
 
 1 Has she though ? I'll smack her when her comes home for 
 telling of lies. Her said her was going, hut us bain't birds o' 
 the air to fly overhead and see whereabouts her goes. There's 
 one thing I be sure of, her's not runnin' the country after 
 young men, as some maids does I could name.' 
 
 ' I know nothing about that,' retorted the policeman. ' What 
 I want to know is — that Esther is not here.' 
 
 1 I've told y' so.' 
 
 1 Yes, but that does not satisfy me.' 
 
 1 Well, then, come in and look round for yourself.' 
 
 ' I can't bear the smoke.' 
 
 ' There, now, and I couldn't a-bear to be laced up in them 
 tight clothes as you be ; it all comes o' edication. I think 
 nothin' o' the smoke ; nor will you if you come in, and sit here 
 and eat the pertaties. In ten minutes you'll be right enough.' 
 
 The policeman stepped within, coughing and blinking. 
 
 1 I'll try to get up a flame,' said Tainsin, throwing on a furze- 
 bush that did indeed blaze up and fill the hovel with light; in 
 the dense smoke, however, little could be distinguished. 
 
 1 The pertatie is waitin' for y',' said Roger. ' Look at 'n 
 settin' on my knee and axin' to be eaten.' 
 
 ' I want none of your potatoes,' replied the policeman, 
 irritated by the smoke. ' I will satisfy myself the girl is not 
 within.' 
 
 'Shall I make more blaze, Mister Tregaskis?' asked 
 
 Tamsin. 
 
 1 ' Trade ' moans any sort of material, oarth, stones, turf, brushwood— 
 in fact anything.
 
 IN THE SMOKE. 295 
 
 ' I don't think it helps much. Where is your gun? ' 
 
 ' Here,' answered Roger with alacrity. ' I haven't used 'n 
 
 for half an age. Smell to his mouth ; it be sweet as the breath 
 
 o' a baby.' 
 
 He handed the old gun through the smoke to the policeman, 
 
 who took it outside, and applied his nose to the barrel, and 
 
 looked at the lock with watery eyes, then passed it back again. 
 
 Mrs. Morideg began to knit, rock herself, and sing : 
 
 ' The moon doth shine so bright in the sky, 
 The red, the green, and the yellow ! 
 " Come out, come out ! " did the green knight cry, 
 Oh ! the flowers that bloom in the valley ! ' 
 
 And she and old Roger, at the top of their voices, with some" 
 thing of triumph and mockery in the tone, roared the chorus : 
 
 • The harp, the lute, the fife, the flute, and the cymbal, 
 Sweet goes the treble violin ' 
 
 ' Be silent, will you 1 ' shouted the policeman, nettled at his 
 want of success, altogether beaten by the fumes of the fire. 
 ' I'll tell you what, you howling savage, I'll tear a hole in the 
 roof, and let this darned smoke ovit, and then I'll be able to 
 ransack the whole piggery ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Morideg, 'that'll never do. 
 What will Farmer Hext say to that up to Trewortha ? This 
 bain't no house o' ourn ; her's but lent to we. He'll hev the 
 law on you, sure as you'rn a real perliceman, that he will.' 
 
 1 Then I'll come in and grope into every corner. I believe 
 Esther is here.' 
 
 ' And what be you a-come after my Esther for 1 ' asked 
 Tamsin. ' I know you've had a soort of a fancy for she. Is 
 it honourable, and you be courtin' of she 1 ? Why, I always 
 heard say as you was a respectable chap. So if you means it 
 honourable, come along.' 
 
 ' It's nothing of the sort,' said the policeman. ' Come, turn 
 out of this house, and let me in ; I'll soon have done with the 
 fire and smoke, and let some daylight into the place.' 
 
 ' Not so, mister ! ' replied Roger ; • I'm not to be turned out 
 o' this house as I was from t'other. Show me your warrant 
 first, I say.' 
 
 With this the policeman was not then provided. He had 
 come on at once in quest of Esther, denounced as the murderess 
 by Mrs. Curgenven. He knew enough of the extent of his 
 power, and that he might get into trouble if he went beyond it.
 
 296 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 He stood outside for a moment or two, racking his brain to 
 discover what was best to be doiu', whilst the dog Punch 
 snarled and barked round him, and made a rush at his calves 
 whenever he attempted to enter the hovel. Then ensued a 
 fresh glare within, accompanied by a dense outpour of smoke. 
 The old woman had heaped fresh fuel <>n t lie lire. 
 
 It was not possible for civilized lungs and eyes to endure 
 the fume, and he turned to leave, in ill humour with himself, 
 and especially with the MoridegS. But he had not taken half- 
 a-dozen steps from the door before he was rapped on the 
 shoulders by the gun-barrel, and turning sharply, saw Esther, 
 who had sprung through the door and held her grandfather's 
 fowling piece. 
 
 ' Ah ! I knew you were there. Now I'll arrest you. J 
 arrest you in the Queen's name on a charge of murder.' 
 
 ' No — you do not touch me,' said Esther. ' Come a-courtin' 
 o' me, is it 1 Why, Tregaskis, you're the first man as has. 
 And I tell y' what, you mun ketch me afore you can call me 
 yourn. Give me the start, and let us run.' 
 
 1 In the Queen's name. I arrest you,' said the policeman, 
 stepping towards her. 
 
 1 Nay ! you'll not catch me that road,' said Esther, with a 
 laugh. ' Us'll have rare games, us will. Tip and rum See, 
 Tregaskis ! ' She brought the muzzle of the barrel down on 
 his shoulder, and then fiung the fowling-piece away. 'There, 
 I'm off ; tip and run. Ketch me if you can ! ' 
 
 And like a fawn she leaped a bank and went as a fawn 
 bounding over the moor. Tregaskis shook his head. He 
 could not follow, or were he to follow, it would not be with 
 the smallest prospect of catching the girl.
 
 BROWN WILLY. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XLVn. 
 
 BROWN WILLY. 
 
 Esther fastened two ends of the blanket — a thin one — 
 round her neck, wearing it as a mantle, tucked another end 
 under one arm where she carried the loaf, and started, a 
 reaping-hook in her right hand, bound by the handle to a long 
 stick, on her way north-west. 
 
 She passed the stream that flows into the Trewortha Marsh 
 from the west, and climbed the round hill above it, in the 
 midst of which is an outcrop of sparry granite that bears a 
 fanciful resemblance to a grey mare, and which accordingly 
 bears this name. Esther had arranged with her grandparents 
 that food and sundry articles she might need were to be left 
 for her at intervals among the rocks of the Grey Mare ; then 
 she went over a long down sparsely strewn with granite, much 
 skinned accordingly for turf, and away to where, like a white 
 ribbon, the great Bodmin road, the main line of communication 
 iu former days between London and Falmouth, crossed hill 
 and dipped into dale in the undulating surface of the moor 
 between the main groups of mountainous outcrops of granite. 
 Here were a few farms clustered about the road, with their 
 enclosures taken from the waste built round with the stones 
 cleared from the ground within. 
 
 To the north, in the gathering gloom, but with some of the 
 western halo from the set sun reflected over their barren 
 crests, rose ridge on ridge against the dark north-eastern sky. 
 Already, under the granite-crowned Garrah, a star shone 
 forth, where in a solitary farm a lamp had been kindled. 
 
 Esther crossed the Bodmin road without encountering any 
 one, and plunged into the wilderness beyond, a wilderness not 
 to be trodden and threaded by daylight by such as are 
 inexperienced and unacquainted with the country, on account 
 of the wide expanses of unfathomed bog occupying old lake 
 basins. 
 
 Esther was well aware of the danger, but she knew her 
 direction, knew that the moon was near full and would shortly 
 rise over the ridge to the east ; and she was also well 
 acquainted with the position of the dangerous morasses, and 
 of the points where the streams could be crossed, none deep so 
 near their cradle.
 
 298 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Like a dark purpose in a sulleiij tortuous mind, the river 
 Fowey wormed its way through the moors. Never seen, 
 hardly heard in its whispering falls, it could not be gathered 
 where it worked and turned, and dived and fretted. Esther 
 kept to the heights, now traversing whole villages of ancient 
 circular huts, some within pounds and fortifications, some 
 outside, at what date tenanted none knew. Now and then 
 she startled a couched moor colt or a heifer, or a frightened 
 curlew with a whirr and scream rose from under her feet. 
 Then she made Tolborough, with its cairn crowning the 
 summit, a chambered cairn with a passage leading into its 
 depths, where dwelt the pixies. 
 
 She passed without fear, the Good People had never hurt 
 her. She belonged to them ; they would protect her when 
 taking refuge in their domain, their last refuge from the 
 encroaching plough and the sound of church bells. Here she 
 turned and looked back. Darkness had gathered behind her 
 as a misty sable sea flowing in between all the mountain tops 
 to the east, pouring down into the bottoms and filling them 
 with gloom, whilst, silvery and ghostlike, their granite heads 
 still caught the light. But out of this dark shadow she saw 
 Dosmare like a large eye looking up at the night heavens, 
 waiting to see the moon sail above it and to reflect it in its 
 waveless surface ; Dosmare, the sole remaining lake of the 
 cluster that once occupied the basins in this upland region. 
 On again, now warily picking her way among the rocks of 
 Coddah and down into the great basin below Brown Willy, 
 where springs rise and the ' old men' had burrowed after tin, 
 and bogs have swelled and overflowed and occupied the ancient 
 works. 
 
 A horrible death-like odour rose from the bogs, an odour 
 as of an overcrowded graveyard ; and graveyards these vast 
 bogs are, that have swallowed and contain in their abysses the 
 bones of departed races of beasts that once ranged the moors, 
 and relics of ancient peoples who worked there, and who have 
 disappeared like the elk and urochs, the wolf and hyaena. 
 
 Before Esther, against the northern sky, stood the black 
 mass of the highest of the Cornish ridges, like a mighty wave 
 rolling in on her to submerge her in the trough below. She 
 seated herself on a stone and waited. She dared not 20 
 forward into that same trough till light came. As she sat, 
 she was as one in a lost, untenanted world. Not a sound of 
 any living being, of a bird, or insect was audible. The out- 
 line of the mountain before her was undefined — whether on
 
 BROWN WILLY. 299 
 
 account of gathering vapour from the Atlantic or in night 
 shadows she could not tell. And now, sitting there in the 
 chill air, in absolute solitude, she begins in her undisciplined 
 mind to ask herself why she was there. 
 
 Why, indeed, had she run away, and was hiding, when she 
 had done no harm to any one ? 
 
 She had acted on impulse, the first impulse of a warm 
 heart. Few there were who had been kind to her, but among 
 those few was Theresa Curgenven. She had wits enough to 
 know that what Theresa had done might bring her to a 
 shameful death, a death that would heap disgrace on the 
 family to which belonged Justinian and Alice, the only 
 persons she loved outside her grandparents' hovel. But 
 that was not all. She, and she alone, had seen Physic shot. 
 And although with her lack of moral education she had no 
 scruples about speaking and even swearing to what was not 
 the truth, she was afraid lest if brought to cross-examination 
 by ' them lawyer chaps,' the truth might be extorted from her. 
 
 The idea of taking the crime on herself had sprung up un- 
 prompted in her rude mind as the readiest way of relieving 
 Theresa. She was confident that she could elude pursuit on 
 her native moors. A regiment of soldiers could not catch 
 her — she had a thousand lurking-places. She knew that not 
 a moor farmer or his men would ' turn cat-in-the-pan ' on her, 
 in other words, betray her whereabouts, should they guess or 
 come to know it, not only because they would dread the ven- 
 geance of her grandmother, but because they regarded her as 
 belonging to themselves, the moor-folk, in contradistinction to 
 the lowland people. And, as she sat musing, she laughed 
 merrily and beat her hands together. There was sport in 
 leading the police a wild-goose chase, in drawing them off on 
 a false scent. She had not, as a child, played games with 
 the school-children ; now, on the confines of womanhood, she 
 would play such a May game as was unsurpassed and unsur- 
 passable ; and so, with this game, take farewell of childhood. 
 She had laughed aloud. There was no echo, not the smallest 
 reverberation, her voice went forth into and was lost in space. 
 
 But now there was a brightening in the eastern sky, and 
 first a spark, then a flame, then a globe of fire rose above the 
 moors, and a flood of light was poured over the flank of Brown 
 Willy. Not over its five heads, for the crest had, in fact, 
 arrested fog from the Atlantic that blew over it, blew between 
 the points of its comb, arched over the great trough below, 
 which was suffused with silver moonlight, and the vapour
 
 300 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 above was itself turn.' 1 into light like the silken streamers of 
 the cotton-grass in the marsh. 
 
 With a shout of exultation, Esther sprang to her feet, and 
 the full moon flashed from her reaping-hook, turning it into a 
 silver crescent. 
 
 Down the slope of Coddah Esther went, her feet bounding 
 on the wet turf ; she saw the flash of water in Fowey Well, a 
 pool where the river bearing that name is supposed to rise. 
 She almost ran down, for she was chilled with sitting in the 
 cold night air and falling dew, and having reached the bottom 
 crossed it, and began to climb the side of Brown Willy. As 
 she ascended, the silvery streamers of fog were dispersed, and 
 the five-horned head of the mountain stood out illuminated 
 by the moon, turned into silver against the night sky. A 
 steep scramble, and then at length, now glowing in every 
 limb, the girl stood on the summit of the most eastern point. 
 Here rises an immense cairn above some ancient Cornish 
 king. Here the dead man lies with a golden goblet in his 
 hand, and he turns his cup from side to side. When he is 
 thirsty, he turns the bowl to the west, and thereupon the 
 wind blows from the ocean and brings up rain that pours 
 through the chinks of his grave and fills the cup. The dead 
 man holds it till full, and then drinks. If his tongue be 
 slaked, he turns the bowl downward and the wind shifts, the 
 clouds disperse, and the sun shines. But he has his thirsty 
 fits full often, and when they are on him rain falls incessantly, 
 and the fire that consumes him seems unquenchable. 
 
 • To-night,' laughed Esther, ' the ou'd king hev took but a 
 dewdrop in his cup and gone to sleep again.' Then she de- 
 scended the further side of the crest, and found what she had 
 come to find, her place of shelter — a house ready built, but 
 untenanted since the times of the old king of the golden cup, 
 who lay immediately overhead. 
 
 This house is a beehive hut composed completely of granite 
 blocks nestling in among the natural rocks, like a swallow's 
 habitation ; so like the natural rocks in colour and appear- 
 ance, that probably ninety-nine persons out of a hundred 
 might pass within a stone's throw of it without observing it. 
 It is completely circular, six feet in diameter within, the walls 
 are perfect, and stand above the paved floor but three feet; 
 and then the roof is drawn together in overlapping courses, 
 except where one huge slab has been thrust over a portion. 
 The little doorway is to this day intact. The house could be 
 entered on hands and knees alone, between granite jambs
 
 BROWN WILLY. 301 
 
 under a granite lintel. Attached to it is a still smaller bee- 
 hive hut, that served anciently as store-chamber. The hut 
 was indeed the mere skeleton, unvested in its original cover- 
 ing of turf that excluded wet and cold, but such as it was 
 Esther was constrained to make it her habitation for the rest 
 of the night. 
 
 She had been walking for some hours, and was hungry and 
 tired. She broke off a piece of the loaf she carried and ate 
 it for her supper, then, having wrapped herself up in the 
 blanket, she laid herself in the driest recess of the hut and 
 was soon asleep. 
 
 When morning broke she was shivering with cold. A hasty 
 breakfast was made on her loaf, and then she set to work 
 upon her house to make it rain and wind tight. This was 
 not difficult. She cut up turf and stopped all the chinks 
 between the stones ; she cleared out all the peat and mould 
 that had accumulated through some two thousand years on 
 the floor ; she reaped heather and strewed it on the pavement 
 to form a bed, and then proceeded to weave rushes for a mat 
 that she could bang over the entrance at night. Upon the 
 roof she heaped turves that she found at the places where the 
 poat-cutters had stacked their stores to dry, and had neglected 
 or cast aside as indifferent slabs. The day was thus spent, 
 occupying all her energies and intelligence, to the reduction of 
 the size of the loaf. 
 
 A fire she dared not kindle, had she possessed the means of 
 lighting one. She was living at the highest point in all Corn- 
 wall, at a point commanding two seas. Far away to the south 
 was Plymouth Sound, and gleaming like an arm of fire in the 
 declining sun ; to the west was the estuary of the Camel, 
 Padstow Bay. A light at such an elevation would be seen far 
 and wide, and must attract attention. Only in rain and mist 
 could she venture to kindle one ; but, so far, rain and mist 
 had happily not come upon her. 
 
 The day was over, and in her beehive hut in the darkness 
 sat Esther, plaiting the rushes to complete her screen. The 
 wind piped and fluttered about the entrance. A soft silvery- 
 grey light was discernible at her narrow doorway. She sang 
 to herself snatches of old ballads her grandmother had taught 
 her ; then laid her plaiting down in her lap, unable to proceed 
 in the darkness, and listened to the play of the wind and to 
 the tumble and roar of her own stormy pulses, and think as 
 best she could the thoughts that flashed in her dark mind. 
 They came one on another; now a thought of her grand-
 
 302 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 parents, then of Justinian, next of how she was giving the 
 police the slip, then of the murdered man, and not in order 
 but in a whirl, and dancing over and flashing through them, 
 fancies of the king with his golden cup ; of Tregeagle, the 
 giant, who churned Dosmare with his stall till it foamed 
 like a cauldron ; of the pixies dancing round the cairn on 
 Tol borough. 
 
 Then, suddenly, she was startled by a scream, loud and 
 piercing, in her ear, and a nutter near her feet. 
 
 She shrank against the stone at her back, drawing her 
 feet under her in terror, and holding her breath. 
 
 Glimmering in the dark were a pair of eyes, now Hashing, 
 then disappearing like a revolving light at sea. 
 
 The moon rose, and a flood of pure light poured in at her 
 doorway, and in that light she saw what had alarmed her, a 
 snowy owl, white in itself, dazzling white in the moonbeam. 
 
 It had come to warn her to depart from a haunt it called 
 its own. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 esthrk's advocates. 
 
 Percival Curgenven, as both magistrate and employer of 
 the deceased Mr. Physic, considered himself bound to take 
 active measures to have the case of the murder cleared up, 
 and the murderess brought to justice. Not that his activity 
 was productive of result. He ran about talking, drove into 
 Liskeard to consult a lawyer, discuss the matter with the 
 superintendent of the police, dine at the ordinary at Webb's 
 Hotel, and make the murder the subject of discussion at 
 table j and after having laid strict injunctions on the servants 
 and on Justinian not to mention the matter before his wife, 
 lest it should excite and harm her, was himself the first to 
 transgress, and blurt the whole matter out before her. 
 
 There had been a coroner's inquest, and, under the circum- 
 stances, with such evidence as was produced before the jury, 
 the verdict was one of murder against Esther Morideg. But 
 then, in this case, as in that of Captain Lambert, and ten
 
 ESTHER'S ADVOCATES. 303 
 
 thousand others, all the evidence necessary for the direction 
 of coroner and jury into a right finding was not produced. 
 
 Justinian was in the smoking-room of the bungalow engaged 
 in trying to get into working order a piece of Captain Lambert's 
 mechanism, a tumbler made to go through numerous and 
 varied evolutions by the fall of sand into buckets of different 
 sizes, rendering the revolutions more or less irregular, and 
 thus changing the attitudes of the tumbler. The toy had 
 been neglected and had got out of order. He had removed 
 the back of the box that contained the mechanism and was 
 studying the contrivance, when a tap at the window-pane 
 called off his attention, and he saw the sweet face of Alice 
 looking in at him. He started up, and ran out to her, but 
 met her in the doorway coming in. 
 
 ' Alice, I have found out the secret of the little man who 
 pirouettes,' said Justinian. 'See — this is how your father 
 managed it. Was it not clever 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh, never mind that,' said the girl. ' I am so anxious and 
 unhappy about Esther Morideg. I suppose you know that 
 the coroner has given out that she shot Mr. Physic, and I am 
 quite sure it is not true.' 
 
 ! I know it is not true,' said Justinian. 
 
 'So do I ; but why is all this hue-and-cry after her when 
 she is innocent 1 ' 
 
 I Because they will have it that she shot him. How do you 
 know, Alice, that she is innocent ? ' 
 
 'I am sure of it. She couldn't do it. She is as good- 
 hearted a girl as ever was found ; wild and uneducated of 
 course, but that does not make her wicked. She is not 
 wicked. Justin, I am positive she never did it, because she 
 could not do it.' 
 
 I I don't think your reasons convincing.' 
 ' But I know her.' 
 
 ' So do I. I don't believe she could do it, though the 
 provocation was great.' 
 
 ' I am quite positive she did not.' 
 
 • My reasons are better than yours, Alice. I know she is 
 innocent for reasons that do carry conviction with them. 
 You see, men and women have different sorts of intellects. 
 You say she is innocent because you like her and think her a 
 nice sort of a girl; I say so because I have evidence that 
 exculpates her. That is the difference in sex.' 
 
 ' What are your reasons 1 ' 
 
 ' Why, this — I know that the pistol was in its place when I
 
 304 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 came here for my gun. Look, Alice, there is the rack. There 
 is my gun, and there is the governor's, and do you see that gap 
 below i There is where the pistol was. You know we were 
 at Sir Sampson's. My step-mother had a fit, or something of 
 the sort, and a servant was sent, to recall the governor and me. 
 We came hack, and I took the gov.'s pm and |>ut that, as 
 well as mine, here on the rack, and I am positive the pistol 
 was in place. Then, as my step-mother was better, and wished 
 us to go back to the Tregonticks', I came here for the guns 
 again, and the pistol was still in its place. I remember 
 noticing then that it had a cap on, but as the hammer was 
 down, I couldn't say whether it was an old one or not, I was 
 in too great a hurry to examine at the time. Those owls of 
 police have got the pistol now, and so you see there is a gap 
 in the rack. Well, when I came here for the guns, don't you 
 think I should have at once noticed had the pistol been away 1 
 I don't know what girls are, whether they are observant or 
 not, but all I can say is that men see these things at once 
 with half an eye. The pistol was in place. I noticed the 
 copper of the cap under the hammer, and determined I'd row 
 the keeper about it, for he ought to have had the pistol cleaned. 
 I could swear to it. And yet these fools have it that Esther 
 carried it off a day or two ago, after having frightened John 
 Thomas with a threat that she would pepper his fat calves 
 with it. It's rubbish ! ' 
 
 1 But — Justin ! why have you not said this ? Why did you 
 not let the coroner and the jury know this]' 
 
 ' I wasn't going to appear before a pack of idiots unless 
 specially sent for. Why, Alice, who do you think they had 
 for jury? There was Tonkin, the fellow who has that little 
 omnium gatherum shop, boots and lollipops, groceries and 
 drapery. There was Hicks, who is only a day labourer, and 
 so deaf that he misunderstands everything said to him, and 
 Uglow the butcher. Do you think I, the young squire, was 
 going to come before a parcel of bumpkins and give evidence 1 
 Not I. If there should be a trial, and a respectable jury of 
 educated and intelligent men, I'll go and say my say, but I'm 
 not the man to cast pearls before swine.' 
 
 1 Oh, Justin ! you have done very wrong. Poor Esther is 
 in trouble aud danger, and all through you.' 
 
 ' Not a bit. They are such a pack of stupids, that I knew 
 thev would bring in their verdict in defiance of my evidence, 
 if I gave it; and I was not going to submit to that — I, the 
 young squire, indeed ! Besides, who is the coroner 1 He's
 
 ESTHER'S ADVOCATES. 305 
 
 only old Grimston, who is a second-class lawyer, and the son of 
 an auctioneer, and married the daughter of the cake-shop. 
 When there's a proper judge and respectable jury, then I'll 
 say my say.' 
 
 ' And in the meantime poor Esther is to be hunted and per- 
 haps thrown into prison.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you let Esther take care of herself. What does she 
 care about what old Griimston, andUglow, and Hicks, and that 
 lot decide concerning her 1 ? I wouldn't care a snap myself. 
 Let them say I shot Physic. I should laugh in their face/;. 
 Why, Hicks is as stupid as he is deaf. Who cares for their 
 opinion except their wives 1 ' 
 
 ' But your father thinks Esther is guilty.' 
 
 1 Yes — it is unfortunate. He is rather — well, he is swayed 
 too much by general opinion, which is what I despise. Indeed, 
 I may say I am convinced that when general opinion sets one 
 way, truth is to be found in the opposite direction.' 
 
 ' Did you not tell your father about the pistol ] ' 
 
 * Yes, but he did not listen, or give what I said its proper 
 weight. You see unfortunately I am only his son, and a 
 father, I suppose, is always inclined to undervalue a son's 
 opinion and intellect, and so on. Besides, he is rather obstinate, 
 though I say it, and he has made up his mind that Esther 
 killed Phy.sic, and he will stick to his opinion as a matter of 
 principle, just because he has formed his opinion. It is a mis- 
 fortune when people do not listen to reason, but, after all, they 
 are the sufferers.' 
 
 ' Not in this case, Justin. It is poor Esther who is the 
 sufferer. What is to be done about her 1 ' 
 
 ' I don't know.' 
 
 1 But the truth cannot be arrived at till she is found.' 
 
 4 Then let them find her.' 
 
 ' No— do not let her be caught by the police and carried to 
 gaol, and lie in prison, regarded as a murderess, till the assizes. 
 It would kill her to be confined within stone walls.' 
 
 ' There is something in that. And that is why she has given 
 them the slip.' 
 
 ' Yes, but where is she ? I wish she could be seen and 
 spoken with, then we would find out something about this. 
 Now every one says she murdered Mr. Physic, and I don't 
 believe it, and never shall be brought to believe it.' 
 
 ' Nor will I,' said Justinian. 
 
 'Then it is our duty to stand by her, and help her to clear 
 herself. Justin ! she is a poor uneducated creature, and quite 
 
 x
 
 306 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 unable to establish her own innocence. Every one is against 
 her except you and myself, and you and I must be her 
 advocates, and <lo what we can to clear her.' 
 
 ' I should enjoy doing it,' said Justinian, ' if only for the 
 sake of letting the world know that our opinion is worth 
 attending to. And it would teach the governor a salutary 
 lesson, too.' 
 
 ' Then do something to establish Esther's innocence.' 
 
 • What? I am game so soon as the proper authorities are 
 prepared to listen to my evidence.' 
 
 ' That is not sufficient. You must find Esther out ; learn 
 where she is, see her, and get her to tell you what she knows. 
 There is some mystery. It may be she is trying to screen her 
 grandfather. I cannot account for her playing hide-and-seek 
 in any other way. If not that, then something has happened 
 to her.' 
 
 ' I will do what you wish. If she is in concealment, her 
 grandparents will know. Leave it to me to worm the truth 
 out of them. I understand all that sort of thing better than 
 those blundering owls of police. Of course the Moridegs 
 would tell them nothing ; me — that's altogether different.' 
 
 ' Thank you very much, Justin. I am so troubled at heart 
 about the poor girl. I do like her. There is a great deal more 
 in that girl than most people imagine.' 
 
 ' I'll go directly. Nothing like knocking off a thing at once.' 
 
 ' Do so ; and tell her — tell her, Justin, that nothing will 
 make me believe she did this dreadful thing intentionally. 
 Mamma does not know her as I do.' 
 
 Justinian started for Trewortha. He did not ride his cob 
 because the way was very bad, so rough with stones in places, 
 and so boggy in others, that it would have taken him longer 
 to reach the place on horseback than on foot. 
 
 As he approached the throat of the valley where the 
 Trewortha Tor throws out its feet against those of Newel Tor 
 on the other side of the stream, he saw the policeman lounging 
 about, as though he had nothing to engage him. 
 
 Justin accorded him a supercilious nod and was rushing past, 
 when the constable said, ' Excuse me, sir, but may I ask where 
 you are going 1 ' 
 
 1 Where I am going 1 ' repeated Justinian haughtily ; ' what 
 the deuce is that to you '? Do you know who I am 1 I call 
 this cheek, I do. As if I might not be where I chose. I sup- 
 pose these moors do not belong to you, Mr. Tregaskis, but are 
 free to any one to cross 1 '
 
 ESTHER'S ADVOCATES. 307 
 
 ' Oh, certainly, sir. Only I was ' 
 
 1 Only you were wholly unwarranted in asking such a question 
 of me. I take it as impertinence.' 
 
 Then Justinian walked on, switching at the heads of fern 
 and gorse, at anything on which he could vent his disgust. 
 
 Presently he turned his head over his shoulder and looked 
 back. The constable was following at a distance. He clenched 
 his teeth, stood and hacked at a thistle with his stick till he 
 had hacked it to the ground, looked back, and saw the police- 
 man still coming on. 
 
 Then he strode to meet him, and said haughtily, ' Are there 
 not other ways than this to Trewortha 1 What do you want 
 there 1 or — may I flatter myself that you are following my 
 traces 1 ' 
 
 ' I beg pardon, Mr. Justinian ; I had no wish to offend, but 
 I have my duty to discharge.' 
 
 • Well, and what is that 1 ' 
 
 'Why, I have to catch that party, sir— beg pardon — Esther 
 Morideg.' 
 
 ' Then, why do you not catch her ? ' 
 
 ' She is hiding from us.' 
 
 ' If hiding, why do you come to Trewortha 1 You are not 
 likely to find her there. Of all owlishness that ever was, there 
 is nothing like that of the rural police ! ' 
 
 The constable was nettled. 
 
 ' Well, sir, you may say that if you choose. I know very 
 well she is not at Trewortha; but seeing as you was a-keeping 
 company with her ' 
 
 ' What ! ' Justinian's face became scarlet. 
 
 1 No offence, sir ; I suppose it's no secret. All the country 
 knows that you've been keeping company with Esther, and 
 walking out with her.' 
 
 ' And so ' 
 
 ' And so I thought you might perhaps know where she be. 
 And, sir, let me tell you, if you do, it would be better to tell 
 me. No offence, but seeing you coming this way, and think- 
 ing you might know, or come to know, where she is, I 
 thought I might take on me to give your honour a caution 
 that it would be a serious matter to assist in any way to 
 conceal her or get her off. It would make you, sir, an 
 accessory.' 
 
 'I think this an insufferable piece of impertinence,' said 
 Justinian indignantly. ' To talk of me — of my keeping company 
 — and then as an accessory. I'll tell you what it is, Tregaskis ;
 
 808 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 I'll speak to my father, who is a justice of peace, and pet your 
 name struck off. It is intolerable t<> have police so insolent. 
 Turn your nose in another direction, please, and do not <log my 
 footsteps.' 
 
 ' I must do my duty, sir.' 
 
 Justinian swung himself about and proceeded on his way, 
 panting with anger, his brow suffused with colour from shame 
 and indignation. He wished heartily now he had never met 
 with, never condescended to be gracious to a common girl snoh 
 as Esther. ' Vulgar people will make their vulgar comments ; 
 they imagine what does not exist.' He had half a mind now 
 not to proceed, but he had made a promise or given an assurance 
 to Alice that he would see the Moridegs, and so he must go 
 forward. 
 
 In no good humour he approached their hovel, and almost 
 ran against Esther coming to it from an opposite direction. 
 
 At the same moment that he saw her, so did the constable, 
 who gave a shrill call on his whistle, and began to run. 
 Instantly there started up three more constables from behind 
 rocks and the mounds that marked the sites of prehistoric 
 habitations, and ran also, concentrating on the hut of the 
 Moridegs. 
 
 Esther saw that she must be captured if she remained, 
 and she turned. She looked first at one then at another of 
 those running towards her before she resolved on her course, 
 and then bounded down the slope and darted out on the 
 marsh. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 ACKOSS THE MAKSH. 
 
 Tbewobtha Marsh is probably unique anywhere. Being an 
 
 old lake lied silted up with the wash from the granite tors 
 that surround it on every side, all which granite tors are more 
 or less impregnated with tin, the bed of the lake is to a large 
 extent a settlement of the metal. The ruins of villages of all 
 ages from prehistoric antiquity, which cover the slopes of the 
 hills that dip into the morass, are those of mining peoples of
 
 ACROSS THE MARSH. 309 
 
 different races and languages, who at different times have 
 sought to recover the sunken treasure. 
 
 They have waited till the water was low that they might 
 turn up the bed of the lake ; they have toiled at the granite 
 barrier to saw through it and let the water off ; they have 
 dammed the streams back that flowed into it ; but the lake- 
 bed has never yet been thoroughly explored — never had more 
 than its shoals turned over. Here and there is, as it were, an 
 island in the wide expanse where the water was so shallow 
 that it could be dyked out, and the rubble explored for tin 
 till the metal it yielded was exhausted, or till the dykes gave 
 way, and the water overflowed again and covered all save 
 the heaps of discarded refuse thrown up by the diggers. 
 
 But it was not tin alone that Trewortha Marsh offered 
 to explorers ; it yielded gold as well, though not in large 
 quantities ; and a squire whose land stretched up to it in the 
 seventeenth century boasted of the heavy gold rings that he 
 had obtained from the precious ore recovered from the marsh, 
 and gave to his daughters. 
 
 The fact of the lake morass having been searched over 
 wherever practicable by man has made its surface most un- 
 equal. Here, a little above the level, rises a grey tract of 
 crumbled granite that has been turned over and thrown up. 
 There, again, are depths which the miners at one time by 
 great effort kept dry, and searched till they were abandoned 
 to the dark peat-water again. Here are tracts of quaking 
 swamps that seem fathomless, over which a tripping foot 
 may pass on the green moss, but which will engulf any one 
 who stands still for a minute. There are courses of dark 
 water too wide to be overleaped and too deep to be waded 
 through. 
 
 Into this morass many an ox has run and sunk and dis- 
 appeared. It is said that men who have ventured to attempt 
 to cross it have perished in like manner. Treacherous, decep- 
 tive, a maze to whoever enters it, in one place alone can the 
 moor-man pass over it who is aware of its intricacies and 
 acquainted with the secret of the track. 
 
 The keen, observant eye of Esther had seen that her sole 
 chance of escape lay in traversing the marsh. A policeman 
 had sprung from behind a rock on the further side of the 
 stream that flowed into the basin, and would pursue her if she 
 attempted the moor on that side. Another had appeared in 
 the direction of the Grey Mare, to intercept her should she 
 endeavour to return by the way she had come ; and to run
 
 310 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 up the stream was not to be thought of, not only because 
 Constable Tregaskis was ooming down it, but also because it 
 led in the direction of cultivated and inhabited land. She 
 must return to the depths of the wilderness, and her only way 
 of returning to it was over the surface of the marsh in whose 
 abysses lay the city Tivsillan. Happily, Bhe knew the 
 track. 
 
 Many a Sunday had she stepped from hummock to hummock 
 of rushes and from spit of rubble to islet of gravel till she 
 had reached that spot in the marsh where, far down, lav the 
 church of Tresillan, whose bells could be heard tolling for 
 service in the dark peat-water ; and often had the fancy taken 
 her that she heard the sunken bells. 
 
 Esther did not run out far on the marsh before, in full 
 confidence of her security, she turned, folded her arms, and 
 looked at her pursuers. 
 
 Three of the constables were making for the morass, from 
 the several places where they had been when they first saw 
 her. Esther laughed. She knew that they could not reach 
 her. Tregaskis was coming after her, following exactly her 
 course. She was not afraid of him. She could throw him 
 out. Then her eye went in search of Justinian, and she saw 
 him running, not towards the marsh, but along its bank, 
 leaping the divisions that marked the old boundaries of 
 paddocks and fields and pounds of the ancient settlers, making 
 in the direction of the Grey Mare. Esther had been obliged 
 to come to the habitation of her grandparents because she 
 bad exhausted her provision of food. She had gone, as 
 appointed by her, to the Grey Mare, and had found nothing 
 there. The reason was that the old Moridegs knew that they 
 were watched ; they were well aware that if either of them 
 went to the granite mass called the Grey Mare, he or she 
 would be followed, and the deposit of bread there would be 
 found, and that then an ambush would be laid for Esther. 
 After consultation together they deemed it advisable not to 
 carry anything to the Grey Mare. If Esther discovered 
 nothing there, she would know that they were precluded from 
 visiting the spot, and would make an attempt to obtain food 
 elsewhere. At any rate, it would be a notice to her that her 
 grandparents were prevented from following the arrangement 
 made. Esther bad understood this. But food she must have. 
 She might, she knew, venture into some farmhouse or cottage 
 on the moor and beg there ; but though the elder inmates 
 might not betray her, yet there was risk from the chatter of
 
 ACROSS THE MARSH. 311 
 
 the children. She therefore preferred to run the risk of 
 going to her grandfather's habitation, trusting in her own 
 agility and knowledge of the marsh for escape should she be 
 pursued. Unhappily, she had been observed before she had 
 time to obtain from her gi'andparents what she so much 
 needed. 
 
 Esther waited on a heap of ' streamer's ' refuse till she saw 
 that Tregaskis was within a stone's throw of her, and then, 
 with a taunt cast back at him, she started again. Light and 
 elastic, her foot not resting for more than a throb of the 
 pulse on the yellow-green surface of moss, she passed over a 
 tract of quaking bog. To reach it she had leaped ; for a bog 
 of this description has its margin so fine and filmy as to be 
 incapable of sustaining the weight, whereas a little further on 
 it is dense as velvet-pile. Across this Esther literally danced. 
 She turned her head for a moment over her shoulder, and in 
 that moment saw the constable disappear. He had attempted 
 to follow her on the quaking bog, and had gone in. He 
 sank at once to the armpits, and only saved himself from 
 going under altogether by throwing out his arms and clutching 
 at the moss. 
 
 Being in, to extricate himself was not possible. He must 
 shout to his fellows to bring poles to lay across from the more 
 solid ground upon the bog, by which he might clamber out. 
 
 Another of the constables was running in bewildered 
 fashion up and down a tongue of rushy land that was a 
 peninsula, with a wide reach of unfathomable bog-water on 
 every side of it save that by which he had come out upon it. 
 Advance was impossible. A third had come to the conclusion 
 that he could not thread the mazes of the swamp, and was 
 endeavouring to return to the mainland, but could not find 
 how to retrace his steps. 
 
 Meanwhile the old Moridegs — Roger, with pipe in mouth 
 and hands thrust into his pockets, and Tamsin, with a scarlet 
 kerchief tied round her throat — were standing outside their 
 hovel, watching the proceeding with a stolidity that seemed 
 indifference. Esther saw by a motion of her grandmother's 
 arm that she desired to catch her attention She stood still, 
 and detected that she pointed hastily to the Grey Mare. 
 
 No sooner did Esther perceive this, than she bent her steps 
 in a different direction, so as to deceive her pursuers as to 
 where she purposed leaving the marsh. 
 
 As she went on, she disturbed many wild-fowl that had 
 made of this region their home and breeding-place. In 1680,
 
 312 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 an old squire who lived at Trebaitha Hall, the nearest resi- 
 dence of a gentleman, composed a poem on the cliarms of his 
 place, and did not forget to celebrate the virtues of the great 
 niursh : 
 
 To fine fowling he that is a lover 
 
 Of that delightful sport 
 
 Let him streight hero resort. 
 He cannot miss of duck, cock, tail [teal], and plover, 
 Widgeon, nor wild goose, hoarn [heron], and suite' [snipe], 
 Nor dove, nor thrush, nor hattertlight [jacksnipr], 
 Ueathpoult, nor partridge, nay, nor pheasant. 
 If this don't please, I know not what is pleasant. 
 
 In one place Esther came across the horns of an ox protrud- 
 ing from the bog. The brute had got in, and had sunk, 
 holding up its head with the nostrils above the enclosing peat, 
 till that had covered them, then it had suffocated, but had not 
 sunk further, and the white horns still gleamed out of the 
 grey moss that formed a film over the treacherous surface. 
 Toads, water-voles, leaped into the ooze as she disturbed them, 
 or wild-duck whirred away. 
 
 At length Esther came upon an islet of rubble on which 
 were cairns and mounds, marking temporary habitations of 
 searchers for gold or tin, who had remained on the spot 
 instead of returning nightly to the mainland through the 
 dangerous swamp. From this place she could see that the 
 constables had recovered Tregaskis from his dangerous position, 
 and were making towards that point on the margin where 
 they conjectured Esther would leave the morass for the bank. 
 
 She made her way on in the same course as before, till she 
 came within a bowshot of the margin, when she turned sharply 
 round, retraced her steps over the morass, and sped as fast as 
 she could towards the north, took the one ford over the stream 
 that wormed its way through Trewortha, and reached a long 
 arm of firm land that ran into the morass, and was crowned 
 by two barrows, under which lay some of the dead who had 
 once toiled for gold or tin in the marsh. This arm was so 
 slightly raised above the water, that to such as did not know 
 the contour of the land it was overlooked, yet, having reached 
 it, an immense adv;intage was gained by Esther, as she was 
 able to run along on it as fast as her feet could carry her, with- 
 out any impediment to stay her. By this means she reached 
 easily the main bank of moor-land, whereas her pursuers were 
 left a mile in the rear, and moreover to reach her had to 
 make a difficult circuit.
 
 ACROSS THE MARSH. 313 
 
 Relaxing her speed, she now ascended the down, among the 
 tufts of whortle, and whin, and heather, at her leisure, till she 
 x^eached the Grey Mare, where she found Justinian, who had 
 made for it in a direct line, at the recommendation of Roger 
 Morideg. He was lying with his back against the rock, and 
 was behind it. 
 
 ' Look here, Esther,' said he, '■ I have brought you a loaf 
 your grandfather gave me. He told me to come to this 
 point. I don't half like it, though. You see, my father is a 
 magistrate, and it looks ugly for me to connive at your escape. 
 Of course I don't believe you have murdered old Physic, and 
 what is more, Alice has commissioned me to tell you that she 
 believes you are innocent. All the same, I don't like to seem 
 to favour your escape from the police.' 
 
 ' Her says I never killed 'n 1 ' Esther tossed her head. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Justinian. ' My cousin, Miss Alice Curgenven' 
 — he had before said ' Alice,' and regretted it. He now gave 
 her her proper title. 'My cousin, Miss Alice, has enjoined 
 me to assure you that nothing will ever make her believe that 
 you committed the crime. I myself ' 
 
 ' You don't think me that wicked, do y"? ' 
 
 ' No, I do not. I know very well that there is a mistake 
 somewhere, but where, I am at present unprepared to say.' 
 
 ' So ' — Esther was pleased, and smiled — ' so you and Miss 
 Alice sez Esther bain't so bad as volks say.' 
 
 ' Exactly. Only we do not understand your conduct in 
 running away.' 
 
 ' And she — what does she say 1 ' 
 
 ' Whom do you mean by site ? ' 
 
 ' Why, sure — who but your step-mother 1 ' 
 
 1 1 don't think she has said anything about it. She has 
 been, and is still, very unwell. She has not been out of her 
 room for some days.' 
 
 ' Look y' here,' said Esther, laying hold of Justinian by the 
 arm, and speaking with vehemence. ' You mind and say to 
 her just what I tells to you. You go to her and say, 
 " Esther — her' 11 die game and never speak." Do y' under- 
 stand now?' 
 
 'I don't understand. I don't see how I can. I will say 
 this to her, but I'd like to know what concern it is to her. 
 What have you to do with Mrs. Curgenven 1 ' 
 
 ' Aye — she loves me.' 
 
 'Does she? That's news. Now, Esther, I can't stay here. 
 See — the men, those police fellows, are concentrating on this
 
 314 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 spot. In a quarter of an hour they will be on you, and I 
 particularly do not wish to have been observe. I in conversation 
 with you. I have already had to undergo insolence and 
 annoyance. Esther— tell me. How came this affair about* 
 Unless you know something about it and had some hand in it 
 or other— though, as I said, I entirely disbelieve in you 
 having done it — why are you in hiding from the police?' 
 
 ' I .lo know about it, and I don't want to say naught,' 
 
 ' Did your grandfather shoot Physic?' 
 
 ' STon beard,' answered Esther, turning sullen, 'I ain't a- 
 going to say nothing about it. I've took it on myself, and 
 that's enough.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to tell me you have taken the charge of 
 murder on yourself to screen another?' 
 
 Esther moved from foot to foot impatiently and uneasily. 
 
 'I won't say nothing. There now. If I gets snared in 
 everything I sez, mere talking wi' you, how'd it be if lawyer 
 fellers were to set on me and worrit me ? They'd have it all 
 out in ten minutes." 
 
 4 In ten minutes you'll be in the hands of the police, and 
 then the lawyers, if you will, will be on you.' 
 
 'Them perlice ! ' laughed Esther. 'They'll never touch me. 
 Look. I'll climb up a-top o' the Grey Mare. I'll stand 
 there, and let 'em all see me, and come runniu' on up hill and 
 try to ketch me, and just to the last I'll give 'em the slip.' 
 
 'But I do not wish to be seen, myself.' 
 
 'They shan't see you neither.' 
 
 ' How will you manage that ? ' 
 
 'Wait and see.' She ascended the rock, and standing 
 against the grey sky waved her hands and shouted defiantly. 
 Justinian, who was concealed behind the rock, looked out 
 cautiously, and saw that a couple of men were approaching 
 He was greatly annoyed, alarmed, ami incensed ; the girl had 
 shown herself, and he must infallibly be seen either where he 
 was, or running away as soon as she fled. She might run 
 faster than her pursuers, but he himself would be recognized, 
 and might get into trouble for having been with her without 
 making an attempt to detain her. 
 
 'It's coming ! ' shouted Esther, looking down on him. 
 
 'Confounded bother it is. I wish I'd never concerned 
 myself to bring you the loaf.' 
 
 He could hear the call of Tregasku to Esther to stand and 
 give herself up. 
 
 In anoth e r moment — suddenly — he, Esther, the rock were
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 315 
 
 wrapped in a moor fog, dense as a pall of cotton wool. Esther 
 sprang off the Grey Mare and came to him. 
 
 'There,' said she, 'I told you so. The pisgies — the Good 
 Folk 'd never let them take me. I seed 'n coming. I seed 'n 
 first come ower Brown Willy, then her came along Hendra, 
 and I were sure nigh to a minute when her'd be on us. Now 
 come along wi' me. I'll take you away to where you can get 
 your road home, and I can be off to my place o' hiding. You 
 may walk now bowld as i' the streets of Liskeard, and no one 
 '11 never see you, if they was five paces off.' Esther laughed. 
 ' Do they think to take me on the moor 1 ? They'll never do it. 
 They canna do it.' 
 
 She walked on with Justinian a little way through the mist, 
 and then stood still. 
 
 ' Gran'fer cannot come to the Grey Mare wi' bread for me, 
 and I must ha' some'ut to eat. Whativer is to be done? I'll 
 get along with this you've given me a bit. After that I must 
 ha' more, and where is it to be brought to ? They're watching 
 gran'fer and gran'mother I reckon. Oh, dear ! what shall I 
 do? Now so — I'll tell y' where it is. If I'm wanted, go to 
 the top o' Brown Willy. I trust you — I'll trust no other. 
 If I'm to live — I must have bread ; if I gets none — why I 
 reckon I shall starve. But you don't forget what I said. 
 Tell her — I'll die game and say naught.' 
 
 She bounded away and was lost in the mist. Justinian 
 found himself by a granite post that he recognized and by a 
 track the direction of which he knew. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 
 
 Justinian entered Theresa's room, and going over to the 
 fireplace stood with his back to it. She was sitting some way 
 from the hearth, near the middle of the apartment, in her 
 aim-chair, listless, doing nothing. She wore a dark-blue 
 velvet loose dress, with lace frills about the throat and sleeves. 
 Her face was almost as white as the lace, and her eyes as 
 dark as the velvet.
 
 316 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 The boy had not seen much of her during the last few days, 
 and he had sufficient observation to note, and sufficient feeling 
 to be startled at, the change in her. The face was thinner, 
 the features sharper, the line more deathly. All energy and 
 brightness were gone out of her. Percival was by nature 
 sanguine, and he either did not notice what was clear to the 
 boy, or he considered it as of no real import. Not that he 
 did not love his wife, he loved her so much that he woidd not 
 allow that she was seriously ill. Love takes one form or 
 other, of exaggerating or of minimizing the danger of the 
 person loved. 
 
 Anxiety was wearing out Theresa, as well as actual sick- 
 ness, or rather the anxiety induced sickness, and then 
 enfeebled her, so that she was unable to shake it off. 
 
 She had hoped, when she consented to be Percival's wife, 
 that the struggle for existence was terminated, and that for 
 the remainder of her days she might be able to bask in the 
 sense of security and in assured comforts. No more holding 
 of the door against the wolf that sought to break in, with a 
 knowledge that the slightest relaxation of muscle, abatement 
 of tension of effort, would leave her a prey of the ravening 
 monster. No more struggle against failing powers and the 
 weariness of exhausted endeavour ; no more occupation of 
 debatable land with sword and bow, without camp behind on 
 which to fall back. Such had been her expectation when she 
 married. And she had been disappointed in her anticipation. 
 Her position she had acquired was menaced, was precarious, 
 and she had been forced to make an attempt to secure it 
 which had led to a terrible casualty, from the consequences 
 of which she was not safe. 
 
 The thoughts of what she had done, vain repinings that she 
 had not acted otherwise, dread of the catastrophe when the 
 truth was known, uncertainty how to meet it, all wore her, 
 almost paralyzed her. It was not that she cared much what 
 happened to herself. Life had lost all its charms for her. 
 When she was married and came to Curgenven, life had 
 burst into flower, and the future gleamed before her full of 
 tranquil, sunny blessedness. A blight had fallen on her hope. 
 Her only solicitude was for Percival and the family into 
 winch she had been taken up. He had been kind to her, he 
 had done what he could for her, lie had been a helper out 
 of her distress ; and she could not endure the thought 
 that by her means disgrace and trouble should fall on his 
 loved head. She thought and thought, but could see no
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 317 
 
 way out of her embarrassment, no gleam of light on her 
 darkness. 
 
 'Step-mother,' said Justinian, 'whom do you suppose I have 
 seen and chatted with 1 ' 
 
 She looked up at him, patiently, without inquiry in her eyes 
 or on her lips. 
 
 ' And I am the bearer to you of a most unintelligible mes- 
 sage.' 
 
 ' To me 1 ' She spoke without tone of interest in her 
 voice. 
 
 ' Yes ; I have actually had a few words with Esther Morideg.' 
 
 A sudden flush rose to Theresa's cheeks, and her hands 
 trembled as she laid them on the arms of her chair and raised 
 herself from her supine position. 
 
 'Yes, step-mother, I have. It ought not to have been. 
 There is a warrant out against her, and the police are chivying 
 her like a hare. I dare say it was all wrong. I ought to have 
 stopped and held her till the constables came up ; but I'm not 
 the sort of fellow to care to play amateur bobby, so I didn't 
 do it. I was not born to be a policeman, nor have the inclin- 
 ation to become one. The blue-bottles are paid to do their 
 work, let them do it. I don't care what the law may be, I 
 won't stoop to that sort of mean work. The fact was, Alice 
 sent me to the Moridegs to see if I could learn where Esther 
 was, so as to convey a message to her. Alice is a chivalrous 
 little Don Quixote of the feminine gender, and will not believe 
 that Esther is guilty.' 
 
 ' No, she is not guilty.' 
 
 ' I know she is not,' pursued Justinian. ' I have evidence 
 that she is innocent, for I saw the pistol in its place when I 
 went for my gun. And I'm glad to hear that you take the 
 same view as Alice and me. I wish the governor did, but he 
 is too impetuous in jumping at conclusions to arrive at right 
 ones. Well, step-mother, I found that the Moridegs were 
 closely watched, and that they were unable to take food to 
 Esther at the place appointed, and so she came herself after 
 it. Then that impudent monkey Tregaskis and some other 
 fellows gave her chase, and I let them run, I knew Esther could 
 distance them, and old Koger begged me take the loaf for 
 Esther to the Grey Mare, and I did so. I did not exactly 
 want to speak with her. As she is under suspicion, and a 
 warrant out against her, I did not like to seem to help in get- 
 ting her away, and help of course I did when I took her bread ; 
 but then, on the other hand, I couldn't be such a cad as to
 
 318 MRS. CURttENVEN. 
 
 refuse. Well, Esther threw all those fellows out who were in 
 pursuit and i-arae to the Grey Mare, and I gave her the ioaf. 
 I had promised Alice, if possible, to see the girl and give to 
 her Alice's assurance of confidence, and so, of course, having 
 promised, I had to do it. If I made myself amenable to the 
 laws, all I can say is, the laws be blowed.' Justinian straight- 
 ened his back and looked consequential. ' Then Esther gave 
 me a queer message to you. She said I was to tell you she'd 
 die game and hold her tongue, or something to that effect. 
 But hang me if 1 can make any sense of it. Why is it she 
 wants you to know that she will not tell 1 
 
 Theresa, who had been listening with quivering attention, 
 sank back in her chair, closed her hands, and in a faint voice 
 answered, ' I cannot say.' 
 
 ' Of course not,' said Justinian, ' nor any one else. But the 
 whole affair is an enigma to me. Why is Esther cutting about 
 on the moors, half starved, and hiding — goodness only knows 
 where — when there is no occasion 1 She never shot Physic. 
 He did it himself. His wicked conscience for once spoke ; and 
 I'll tell you what, step-mother, the explanation will come soon 
 enough, as soon as ever his affairs are looked into. It will be 
 discovered that he has been making away with some of the 
 moneys for which he was accountable. I dare be sworn that 
 he has taken handfuls of Curgenven rents and has poured 
 them into his own pocket. The boss never looks into accounts, 
 he takes all on trust. And what Physic has done to my 
 father he has done to others. I should not be surprised if 
 Sir Sampson had frightened him. There was some talk at 
 Cartuthers about Physic and his accounts, and Sir Sampson 
 said he was going to take his affairs out of Physic's hands now 
 that Physic had taken to mining speculations. He advised 
 the governor to do the same. Well, my theory of this business 
 is that old Physic found his iniquities were coming to light, 
 and afraid of conviction and transportation, he took a dose of 
 lead. Why, step-mother, I've heard the gardener say he saw 
 Physic come this way, and go towards the bungalow not an 
 hour — hardly above half-an-hour before he shot himself. That 
 is the- explanation. He came here, found no one in, went to 
 the bungalow, took the pistol, and he had so much gentility in 
 him as not to shoot himself on our grounds, but out on the 
 moor. Mark ray words —that is the true story, and all these 
 owls of police, and magistrates, and my father, and every one 
 else will come round in the end to my opinion. Those fellows 
 never see further than the extremity of their noses. I don't
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 319 
 
 mean the governor — he is led by the rest ; I mean Tregaskis 
 and idiots of his calibre — and they are cheeky too.' 
 
 ' Do you think they will not take Esther 1 ' Theresa half 
 rose in her chair. She had put together her hands — thin white 
 hands they were — she opened them, and then clasped them 
 again to conceal their vibration. 
 
 ' How can I tell 1 Not whilst they have such unintelligent 
 fellows as Tregaskis after her. But she cannot go on for ever 
 hiding. The moors don't stretch out into infinity, nor can she 
 go on to eternity without food. How anything is to be con- 
 veyed to her, I do not know. Her grandparents dare not 
 venture to carry bread to her, and the Grey Mare is now 
 blown upon. I don't mind telling you that / know the where- 
 abouts of her hiding-place, but old Roger can't take food there, 
 or all those blue-bottles will be after him like what they are — 
 blue-bottles.' 
 
 ' She must have something taken to her.' 
 
 ' I don't see it. If she is innocent, let her surrender. No 
 harm can come of it. It's all moonshine and nonsense. She 
 is frightened, because she is half a savage, and does not want 
 to be locked up for a bit ; she is afraid of that, just as any 
 w'ld bird would be afraid of a cage, and hate the notion of 
 being clapped into one. But, bless you, it's only for a night 
 or two ; I could get her out like a shot with the evidence I 
 could produce in the court. If I had had time at the Grey 
 Mare, I'd have told her so.' 
 
 ' Oh, Justin, do see that she has what she needs.' 
 
 ' That is all very fine. I'm to carry her crumbs, but I want 
 to know why? If she's innocent, let her come forward and 
 trust to me to get her off.' 
 
 ' There may be more behind — something she does not wish 
 to say.' 
 
 'I don't believe it. What can there be behind? I have 
 told you I know exactly how it all came about. She may 
 possibly have seen old Physic kill himself, and she, in her 
 ignorance, supposes that this may compromise her — that is all.' 
 
 ' She must be helped. She cannot remain in hiding for 
 always.' 
 
 • Let her come out and clear herself, I say.' 
 
 Theresa's heart beat rapidly. She could no longer endure 
 the burden of her secret, no longer bear to have no one whom 
 she could consult, and who might assist her in her difficulties. 
 She dared not confide the truth to her husband. It was from 
 him, above all, that she desired it should be kept concealed.
 
 320 MRS. CUROENVEN. 
 
 She had tried the rector in a much lighter matter, and he had 
 proved his reluctance to help her. She had no one else to 
 whom she could put out her hand but this boy, who, with his 
 self-assurance, his energy, and his sound heart, could serve her 
 in her need. She made an attempt to stand up, but her 
 strength was not equal to the effort. 
 
 ' Shall I assist you, step- mother 1 ' 
 
 Justinian came to her and took her by both hands, and 
 she rose to her feet. Something of her former vigour revived 
 in her. 
 
 I Justin,' said she, ' I must say to you what 1 could not -ay 
 to another. I did it ! ' 
 
 ' Did what 1 ' 
 
 I I shot Physic ! ' 
 
 He let go her hands and sprang back with an exclamation 
 of horror. 
 
 ' It is true. I did not intend to do it. It was an accident. 
 But for all that— 1 did it.' 
 
 Justinian stared at her, speechless in his dismay. 
 
 ' Esther saw what took place, and she has run away, mainly 
 that she may not have to appear in evidence against me. I 
 would not have your dear, dear father know this for worlds. 
 Now you understand what was meant by the message of Esther 
 to me. She is a faithful girl, infinitely grateful for the little 
 kindness I have shown her. I assure you — I do assure you — 
 it was an accident.' 
 
 Justinian was still too shocked to speak. 
 
 ' I can bear the sense of what I have done no longer without 
 speaking, and I want your help. Esther must be got away. 
 Should she be taken, then I must tell all, and there is some- 
 thing behind I do not wish to tell, something that would 
 greatly affect all your prospects. There is but one hope — that 
 Esther may be got away. Then the matter can remain un- 
 exposed. Do not ask for more information. Let it suffice 
 that I did it, that Esther is screening me, and that for your 
 father's sake, for the sake of the Curgenven family, the real 
 truth must be concealed.' 
 
 Justinian had recovered himself by this time ; he took a 
 turn up and down the room, then went to the window and 
 looked out. The day had closed in rain, in cloud and rain 
 intermingled, that gave prospect of continuance for some days. 
 
 ' I see,' said he. ' If you put the matter in my hands, I'll 
 manage it. Of course she must bo given the means of getting 
 away. Have you any money 1 '
 
 CAPTURED. 321 
 
 1 Yes — a few pounds.' 
 
 ' That will do to begin with. I will see her ; I must go 
 where she is to be found, and take her something to eat, and 
 I'll manage somehow. I think I might contrive to get her off 
 to the Sandwich Islands. I'll turn it over in my head ; don't 
 concern yourself about it. I am glad you did not apply to my 
 father, he'd have lost his head over it at once. The only point 
 to be really considered is which of the Sandwich Islands to 
 send her to. I forget in which the volcano is, of course she 
 must not go to that. She will be in her element there - all 
 savages together. What is the name of the volcano ? Kea- 
 R oa <}_i forget. I'll ask Alice.' 
 
 CHAPTER LI 
 
 CAPTURED. 
 
 Justinian did not go in quest of Esther the day that 
 ensued for two reasons. In the first place, it was a day of 
 incessant heavy rain. In the next, his project of sending the 
 girl to the Sandwich Islands, on riper consideration, did not 
 appear feasible. 
 
 The young fellow, after he had recovered the consternation 
 into which he was cast by learning that his step-mother was 
 the actual person who had shot Physic — and this recovery was 
 not a long, protracted affair — was not dissatisfied at having a 
 heavy responsibility laid on him. As he put it to himself, 
 his step-mother had done the wisest thing possible in trusting 
 him with the secret, as no one else in the world was so capable 
 as himself of helping her out of her difficulties. 
 
 Dashed at first in his self-assurance at finding that his 
 admirably elaborated explanation of the mystery of the death 
 of Physic was groundless, he speedily recovered his self-con- 
 fidence in the gratification of knowing that he alone was in 
 the possession of the facts, and that placed him in a position 
 of superiority to magistrates and police and the public in general. 
 After having cudgelled his brains as to the best method 
 of disposing of Esther where she might be secure from pursuit, 
 
 y
 
 8W MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 he remembered a boy acquaintance tlit« son of t lie parson at 
 Clovolly in North Devon, aud he wrote him a characteristic 
 letter : — 
 
 1 Dkar Bob, — I want you to do me a favour. There is a 
 girl who can climb, like a goat, anywhere, and I want her to 
 collect, birds' eggs for me at Lundy. You knew I was making 
 a collection four years ago, when you were at the grammar 
 school at Liskeard. Well, Doctor Jenkins, you know, promised 
 me his collection, and he gave it me. There were a lot of 
 awfully jolly sea-birds' eggs in it. Well, he did a thing of 
 which I don't approve. Five days after, lie took it back, and 
 gave it to another chap — that little sneak Williams, you re- 
 member him. I think I behaved like a gentleman in that I 
 did not shake the box and break all the eggs lief ore I gave it 
 up ; but then I am a gentleman, you know. The Curgenvens 
 always are that, if nothing else. As to young Williams, he is 
 a cad. He never gave me one of the eggs. For one thing, 
 I would not have taken any had he offered them. The school 
 has gone down awfully since that affair of the eggs. And 
 now I hear it is not thought anything of except by the 
 shoppies, who send their cubs to it. That affair disgusted me 
 rather with egg collecting. But I am going to begin at it 
 again. They are starting a museum at Liskeard, and I fancy 
 it is the thing for us Curgenvens to be the principal bene- 
 factors and patrons, so I shall give it my collection of birds' 
 eggs when I have got one, and for that reason I want a lot 
 from Lundy Isle. I have considered and send you a sort of 
 a wild girl, and I want you to put her across to Lundy Isle, 
 and leave her there as long as she thinks necessary in order 
 to collect birds' eggs for me. I have a pair of .guillemots, but 
 I want more, and they of all sorts. This girl will go anywhere 
 over the cliffs. I shall send her across country. My notion 
 is to drive her part of the way, aud then let her work along as 
 best she can. 1 shall provide her with enough money to pay 
 expenses. Don't say anything about this to any one. I par- 
 ticularly want it to be kept secret. I don't want it to come 
 to the ears of any one in Liskeard, that they may be thrown 
 off their balance when they learn as a surprise the munificent 
 benefaction. So, dear Bob, mind and do what I ask you for 
 the sake of old times, and get that girl put across at once to 
 Lundy Isle, and leave her there, birds'-nesting, till I tell yuu 
 she may be shipped back again. 
 
 * Va'e, old chap.'
 
 CAPTURED. 323 
 
 Justinian dispatched this letter, and congratulated himself 
 on having formed so plausible an excuse for sending the girl to 
 Lundy, without having been obliged to state anything that 
 was not strictly true. 
 
 The second day was as rainy as that preceding it. The skies 
 were blurred over with formless cloud. The wind was in the 
 south-west. The leaves turned up their lower sides to the 
 wind ; rills formed by the side of the gravel walks and washed 
 the gravel away, pools stood on the terrace. A hateful day to 
 be out, thought Justinian ; but then, with compunction, he 
 considered how doubly hateful it must be to the poor girl on 
 the moor, crouching in some wretched place of concealment, 
 exposed to the drive of the rain and the rush of the wind. At 
 lunch, when he ate his cutlet and mashed potatoes, and drank his 
 glass of claret, his conscience stung him, that he was pampered 
 whilst she was starving — she had had but one loaf, and that 
 must by this time be consumed. 
 
 What should he do 1 ? Would he find Esther if he went in 
 quest of her? But was he justified in delaying the execution 
 of his design ? Was not this detestable weather the very 
 best for his purpose 1 Those owls of police, as Justinian said 
 to himself, would never wet their shins on such a day as that, 
 hunting up the unfortunate Esther on the moors, exposed 
 to the worst of the weather. When he had sat for some time 
 brooding in the smoking-room with his father, answering 
 the remarks of the latter shortly, and looking into the fire, 
 he said suddenly : ' Governor ! I don't fancy you have any 
 idea how ill step-mother is. You take it all ghastly easy, 
 but I believe she is wasting away. Every day she looks worse. 
 I don't like it at all. That old humbug, the Liskeard doctor, 
 is not enough ; if I were you I'd send to Plymouth. Indeed, I 
 wish you would do it for my sake, for 7 am uneasy about her. 
 She is a different-looking woman altogether from what she was 
 when she first came here.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to say so ! ' said Percival Curgenven, start- 
 ing up. ' I'll drive into Liskeard and telegraph at once. Why 
 did you not tell me this before 1 ' 
 
 ' Why, governor, you have eyes as well as I.' 
 
 1 I'll go at once.' 
 
 He rang the bell; and when the servant answered — 'Tell 
 George to get the dog-cart ready at once. He is to accompany 
 me to Liskeard,' said Percival. 
 
 ' And,' added Justinian, 'tell James to have my cob put 
 into the cart — also at once.'
 
 324 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Where are you going, Justin?' 
 
 ' After birds' egga anywhere. I won't stick in any longer 
 on such a day as this.' 
 
 'Then come with me.' 
 
 ' I can't, governor ; I want particularly to go somewhere else.' 
 
 It was not a gracious speech. He felt it was not, so he 
 altered Ins tone and said, 'The fact is I have written to Bob 
 Rawley about some eggs, and there's a matter connected with 
 my letter I must attend to.' 
 
 ' Shall you take James with you 1 ' 
 
 ' No ; I shall go alone.' 
 
 ' Well, I'll go up-stairs and see your step-mother. By Jove, 
 I'd no notion she was so bad. I don't know what I should do 
 
 were ' His voice trembled, and he ran out of the room to 
 
 couceal his emotion. 
 
 Justinian then got the housekeeper to put together some 
 food, and had difficulty in framing a reason. She brought a 
 small package of sandwiches. That, of course, would not 
 suffice. He must have double, three times the amount. 
 Should she put him up a flask of sherry 1 Yes ; and a loaf of 
 bread and some cheese — cake also. He might want it or might 
 not. Wasn't sure he should come back that night. Anyhow, 
 no harm done if there were too much food — he could chuck 
 it away, or give it to some who needed it. Justinian was 
 accustomed to be open in all he did, and he was clumsy over 
 his excuses. He had much better have made none — simply 
 f.'iven his orders and no explanation with them. But this did 
 not occur to him till he had bungled at putting his demands 
 in a plausible form. 
 
 Then he wrapped himself in a waterproof and drove away. 
 He had a long journey before him. He must skirt the moors 
 on their western flank, and, when he reached the main artery 
 of traffic with West Cornwall, either follow it over the Bodmin 
 moors to an inn called the Jamaica Tavern, leave his trap 
 there, and thence strike north over the waste, or else still 
 skirt the moors till he reached the watershed between the 
 Atlantic and the English Channel, put his horse in at a farm, 
 and thence strike west. He was doubtful which course to take, 
 and had not made up his mind when, with steaming cob and 
 himself in a soaked condition, his waterproof notwithstanding, 
 he drew up at a little hostelry called Five Lanes, where he 
 reached the main road, and where the decision must be taken. 
 
 To his infinite annoyance, he saw in the doorway the face of 
 the policeman Tregaskis, who, however, at once dived into the
 
 CAPTURED. 325 
 
 kitchen of the tavern, and Justinian trusted that he had not 
 been recognized. ' If he has seen me,' said the young fellow, 
 ' he is too big an ass to draw any conclusions from it.' 
 
 He had turned the cob to the door, but now, instead of 
 halting to give it a mouthful of corn, he impatiently whipped 
 the brute, turned away from the inn, and drove down the steep 
 lane leading from the main road to the village of Altarnun. He 
 elected to take this way, as that in which he was least likely 
 to be observed on leaving the door of the Five Lanes Inn. 
 'That's how the public moneyis spent.' growled Justinian. 'That 
 police fellow goes loafing about and looking in wherever there 
 is a pretty girl, and sits and toasts himself by the fire, ogling 
 her and talking soft-sawder. And we have to pay for it all. 
 It is too disgusting ! I wish I were a magistrate. I'd make 
 them caper, like the old fellow on hot plates in Sand/ord and 
 Merton. But I shall be some day, and then let them look 
 out — that's all.' He lashed the cob as though it were a police- 
 man he were stinging to his duty. 
 
 The road was narrow, and was an almost continuous ascent 
 for three miles. The cob must walk ; all collar work, no 
 trotting ground. 
 
 1 If it had not been for that pig Tregaskis, I'd have walked,' 
 grumbled Justinian, ' and done it in half the time. A horse is 
 about the slowest of any living creatures, after a slug, when 
 walking. Why should that fellow have gone to Five Lanes 1 — 
 and just now. I don't suppose he spends three-farthings for 
 the good of the house. Had I put in there, it would have been 
 half-a-crown into Mrs. Bone's pocket. Now she's half-a-crown 
 short, and all along of that bobby.' 
 
 Justinian was not in a good humour. The wet had spoiled 
 whatever amiability had been in him when he started. The 
 waterproof had served to conduct all the rain that fell on his 
 hat and back down to the cushion and had saturated that, so 
 that he was sitting on a sodden sponge. Moreover, he was 
 facing the driving rain, and the driving rain penetrated up his 
 sleeves, and went in under his chin, soaked his shirt and sopped 
 his collar. 
 
 He had resolved what to do. He would take Esther, if he 
 found her, and drive her across country to Bude, see that she 
 was settled in somewhere there, and arrange for her to go on 
 by the coach next day to Clovelly. 
 
 If he did that he could not get home the same day, that was 
 not possible. The cob could not stand such a stretch in wet 
 weather.
 
 386 MRS. OUROBNVEN. 
 
 'It will l>o disgustingly compromising, hang it! flood 
 gracious ! what would the boss say if he heard of it?— or the 
 police? Hang it! 1 wish I were well out of it, but I can't help 
 myself. I've undertakes the job, and 1 must go through with 
 i it. I'll put up at Tivvillian's Gate ; there is a farm there, and 
 I know the "Id chap. He'll give the cob a feed and wipe down, 
 an 1 I'll make Esther walk along the road, and pick her up, so 
 that they won't see us start together in the direction of Bude, 
 which might astonish their minds.' 
 
 Ho arrived at Trevillian's Gate, and got the farmer to attend 
 to the horse. Then he started off over the downs in the 
 direction of Brown Willy. This mountain stood behind 
 another, a bolder ridge — Rough Tor — and this had to be 
 ascended or circumvented before the object of his journey was 
 attained. The farmer was not a little surprised at the young 
 gentleman coming there and starting thence, on such a day, for 
 a moor ramble. He asked a number of questions — wanted to 
 know Justinian's purpose, the point to which he was going, how 
 long he would be away, what were the contents of his package, 
 whether his society as a companion would be acceptable ; if 
 not, whether his boy had not better accompany Justinian, 
 to guide him in the event of his being unable to find his way, 
 or, having reached his destination, was unable to find his way 
 back. He entered into minute particulars as to what bogs 
 \\ ere to be avoided and what watercourses crossed, and which 
 landmarks observed in the event of Justinian desiring to go in 
 such a direction, and which in the event of his purposing to 
 take another. 
 
 Justinian was exasperated and perplexed. He was forced 
 to decline well-meant offers, and to evade pointed questions. 
 He was detained longer than he liked, as he had some miles 
 to walk and to return, and before him, should he bring Esther 
 with him, was a long drive in the dark through intricate lanes. 
 
 He knew his direction pretty well. Rough Tor loomed 
 before him in the rain, wreathed in cloud. Ho was sutficiently 
 versed in moor wanderings to be aware that he must keep to 
 high ground, and he had shot snipe over the bogs in the 
 bottoms in winter and knew where they lay, and which were 
 dangerous. 
 
 1 Confound these country bumpkins ! ' muttered the lad as he 
 went along, ' they are as inquisitive as women. They see so 
 few folk, that the arrival of a visitor is to them as welcome as 
 an orange to a child — both to be sucked dry.' 
 
 On reaching the first elevation he looked about him.
 
 CAPTURED. 327 
 
 Through the rain and drifting cloud he distinguished figures, 
 but could not make out whether of cattle or men, at some 
 distance on the moor in his rear. ' I do not remember 
 passing any beasts,' he said. ' I suppose horses — can't keep 
 themselves dry this weather, poor devils, going from place to 
 place in quest of shelter, and finding none.' Hugging his 
 bundle of bread and sandwiches, he ran down the further side 
 of the hill. 
 
 After a long and weariful trudge, and none is more 
 weariful than where the feet sink at every step in oozy soil, 
 and the knees are beaten by wet branches of heather, 
 Justinian reached the foot of Brown Willy and began the 
 ascent. The whole of the summit was wrapped in whirling 
 masses of white vapour, cloud driven up from the ocean and 
 caught there. It was like a huge mass of scoria smoking with 
 internal fire, or would have been so, had it given off the least 
 heat. Justinian set his face determinately at the hill, and 
 began the steep scramble among hummocks of furze and turf, 
 through boggy patches where the moisture that condensed on 
 the mountain had broken out and spread over its flanks, 
 scrambled among a chaos of tumbled granite blocks like 
 moraines of glaciers, then over short turf, slippery as glass 
 with the wet. He was speedily enveloped in the cloud, and 
 then could not see many feet before him. He could not, 
 however, miss his way : he had but to climb straight before 
 him till he reached the summit. 
 
 ' And when I get to the top — the highest point in this 
 howling desolation — what then V asked Justinian. 'Who is 
 to see me ] If I shout, who is to hear me 1 It will be a 
 confounded nuisance if I have had to come all this way, 
 and been exposed to all this weather, in a wild-goose chase. 
 However, I have undertaken the job, and so must carry 
 it out.' 
 
 Up among the crags, in and out among the slippery, fallen 
 stones, stumbling, catching at bushes, panting, hot and cold at 
 once, inhaling fog dense as smoke and smelling of the sea, 
 Justinian toiled on. Now his parcel fell from him, and would 
 have bounded down the mountain side but that it was happily 
 arrested by cluster of stones a few feet below. 
 
 ' By Jove ! here I am ! ' exclaimed Justinian. ' Here is old 
 King Cole's mausoleum.' He referred in this flippant manner 
 to the great cairn on the highest horn of Brown Willy. 
 
 ' Now I am here — what next 1 ' 
 
 He seated himself on the cairn. He might have been on a
 
 328 MRS. CTJRGENYEN. 
 
 fragment of a ruined world, drifting in space Above, around, 
 below, was only dense fog sweeping along before the wind, 
 not now condensed into rain, but thick, palpable, obscuring 
 every object within a yard. 'There might have been no world 
 below. As the vapour drove by, it was as though the cairn 
 itself were swimming, were rushing along, and parting the 
 milky nebulous sea, and leaving it in streamers in its wake. 
 The granite stones of which the great pile was constructed 
 were black with lichen, like reindeer moss, but with white 
 antler-like moss springing up in the interstices. For a 
 moment Justinian thought of the old king in the heart of this 
 cairn, and how he was drawing water of heaven into his 
 golden cup. 
 
 'Here is a pretty go,' said Justinian. 'Up in the clouds 
 and without a prospect of achieving what I came for.' 
 
 He had hardly muttered the words before he heard a shout ; 
 a strange call, that startled him, and made him spring to his 
 feet and step down the side of the cairn. It was as though 
 the buried Cornish king were calling to him from his 
 sepulchre. 
 
 His heart beat a little faster. 
 
 ' Hang it ! what can that have been? Not Esther.' 
 
 Again the voice — a hoarse, strange voice ; not a mere cry, 
 but a jabber of confused words. 
 
 ' It's not human ; I swear this is uncomfortable,' said 
 Justinian, with contempt for the fears that nevertheless 
 prompted him to leave the cairn. He had not descended 
 below the heap of granite stones before he heard the voice 
 again, this time nearer. It issued from some masses of rock 
 thrown together in confusion below. 
 
 He cautiously descended towards this accumulation of 
 stones, and became aware that there was some sort of 
 arrangement in the blocks. 
 
 He approached, not without caution, partly because of the 
 rapid descent of the mountain side and the slippery condition 
 of the turf, but partly also from uncertainty as to who or 
 what was the inmate of this cave, or whatever it might be. 
 
 'There's a sort of door— a something over it,' said the young 
 fellow. He stooped to his knee. A door there was of two 
 upright granite jambs, with a lintel of the same material 
 thrown across, not more than two feet six inches above the 
 soil. He put his hand through to draw back what seemed a 
 mat, but let it fall again as a cry like that of a wild beast 
 issued from the chamber into which for a moment he had
 
 THROWING UP THE BALL. 329 
 
 looked. He was resolved now to search out the mystery, and 
 again he thrust in his arm, held back the curtain, and looked 
 within. 
 
 He saw a heap of heather, and on this heap, tossing, a figure. 
 In the light that entered by the opening, he distinguished the 
 white gleaming arms as they were flung about, a face and 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 ' I'll die game — I wi'n't speak a word — I swear it ! ' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! Esther ! Esther ! — is that you 1 Esther, I 
 say — speak ! ' 
 
 At that moment, out of the mist dashed three men, and ran 
 in upon Justinian. 
 
 1 Thank you, sir. Thank you kindly for leading us to her. 
 Now we've caught her, that's fine ! ' 
 
 Tregaskis spoke, and with him were two other constables. 
 
 ' You fool ! ' said Justinian, angrily, ' do you see — she is 
 either mad or ill.' 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THROWING UP THE BALL. 
 
 With difficulty Esther Morideg was drawn out of the bee- 
 hive hut in which she had taken refuge. Her clothes were 
 soaked, she was in a fever, and delirious. The wet, the 
 exposure, the cold, hunger, had driven her temporarily from her 
 senses. 
 
 Tregaskis, constable though he was, treated the poor girl 
 with great kindness, spoke gently, caressingly to her, told her 
 not to be frightened ; that he and the others would get her to 
 a house where she would be put into a warm bed, and made 
 comfortable. She did not heed him. She seized Justinian by 
 the arm, and drew him to her, and muttered hoarsely, ' I'll die 
 game. Tell her so. I'll not speak a word.' 
 
 ' I have a flask of sherry with me,' said the boy. ' Let her 
 have some — she must be starving.' 
 
 ' She is in a fever,' said Tregaskis. ' Now, sir, we must 
 carry her, or get her to walk between us all the way, or will
 
 330 MRS. CURUENVEN. 
 
 yon run on to Trevillian's gate ami bring your cart over the 
 down to umler Rough Tor? I think it can be got so far.' 
 
 1 I'll do it,' Bald Justinian. 
 
 'And— look here, sir ! We'll just be so bold as to borrow 
 the cart of you to take her anyways as far as to Five Lane*. 
 She can't be brought on toot that distauce. Very considerate 
 of you, sir, to bring the trap for us.' 
 
 ' I will do what I can,' said Justinian, biting his lips. 'Of 
 course, there is but one thing now to be done — to see that she 
 be eared for, and liave the doctor to her. She is very ill.' 
 
 He hurried away down the mountain side, lie was angry 
 with himself, angry with Tregaskis. Instead of being the 
 means of helping Esther to escape from the moors, he had, like 
 a fool — he said that to himself — led the police to where she was 
 concealed, and he was the only person who could have done so, 
 for no one else had a notion where she was. 
 
 But after the first ebullition of vexation at his mismanage- 
 ment of the commission given him, he recovered. The girl was 
 seriously ill. What could he have done, had he found her in 
 this condition without some one at his back to assist him ? 
 What, under the circumstances, could have been done save 
 remove her to a place where she would be attended to? He 
 could not have allowed her to remain in her cell on the 
 mountain top, among the clouds, there to die in fever and 
 delirium. He must have gone in quest of assistance, and 
 assistance brought there meant the revelation of her place 
 of retreat, her removal, and consignment to the custody of the 
 police. After all considered and said, what had happened was 
 perhaps the best thing that could have happened. Whal 
 would have been the fate of the poor girl but for him ? How 
 could her life have been preserved but for him ? How would 
 the police have found her but for him ? On all sides a debt of 
 obligation was due to him. So he held up his head once more, 
 and felt that he was a person of importance. 
 
 The sick girl was brought to Five Lanes, and Justinian 
 insisted on Tregaskis taking her in his trap ; he would hire 
 another, and one far less convenient, at the inn for himself. 
 So he was left behind, and the constable with his charge, and 
 another policeman, went on towards Curgenven. He, Justinian, 
 waited till a clumsy horse was put into a still more clumsy two- 
 wheeled conveyance, and in this he was driven at a slow jog 
 towards his home. 
 
 'After all,' growled Justinian, 'that precious noodle, Tre- 
 gaskis, has brought to Mrs. Bone, of Five Lanes, more than
 
 THROWING UP THE BALL. 331 
 
 the half-crown I calculated on spending there. I shall have 
 to give seven-and-six, and a bob to the driver, for this beastly 
 trap.' 
 
 The son of the landlady at Five Lanes drove him, but 
 Justinian was in no humour for conversation. Not only was 
 he wet and chilled after the walk and after having become hot 
 in the scramble, but the temporary elation, that had followed 
 on his depression at having been the vehicle for the discovery 
 and arrest of Esther, passed off, and he began to realize for the 
 first time in his life that he had played a sorry figure — that in 
 the first place he had made a fool of himself in giving occasion 
 of talk relative to himself and Esther, to such an extent 
 as to have led Tregaskis to watch him, with the conviction 
 that through him the whereabouts of the girl might be 
 discovered. 
 
 In the next place, it was a humiliation to his self-esteem to 
 feel that he had been outwitted by the ' owl,' the ' idiot,' the 
 ' jackass ' whom he had treated with such impertinence, and 
 to know that he had placed himself at this man's mercy. 
 Tregaskis could, if he chose, make the matter unpleasant not 
 for him only, but also for his father. It would indeed be a 
 scandal if it became public that he, the son of a justice of the 
 peace, had been aiding Esther to evade capture on a warrant 
 issued by his own father. 
 
 A bitter medicine is the humiliation of self-esteem, and the 
 more bitter the greater the self-esteem is. Justinian had not 
 valued himself, his abilities, his position, at a low figure, and 
 the consciousness of his having blundered egregiously was to 
 him now as wormwood. 
 
 But conceited though he was, his natxire was healthy and 
 his heart right, and by the time he had reached Curgenven 
 he had resolved on what he would do. Instead of going directly 
 home, he drove to the constabulary residence, and there dis- 
 missed the trap. In the cottage lived Tregaskis with his sister, 
 considerably older than himself, who kept house for him. 
 Justinian entered, and was told that Esther was being cared 
 for by Miss Tregaskis, a clean, kind-hearted, energetic, and 
 sensible woman, and that the doctor had been summoned and 
 was momentarily expected. 
 
 ' Look here, constable,' said Justinian, ' I'll tell you what I 
 have come for, not only to ask after the poor girl, but to beg 
 your pardon. I've not behaved right to you. Now, if you 
 choose, you can make it hot for me. However, let no con- 
 siderations one way or the other influence you, do what is your
 
 332 MRS. CtTBGENVm 
 
 duty. If you think it well to i^ay that because there had been 
 some silly chatter about rae and Esther, you watched me so as 
 to discover her retreat, you are welcome. I know she is 
 innocent. I have evidence that will at once clear her. Know- 
 ing that, I went to find her. I could not account tor her 
 running away. As for the chatter, it is not well-founded. 
 Miss Alice, my cousin, and I have both pitied and liked the 
 girl, so has my step-mother, and when all the rest of the world 
 went against her, we rather held to her, and believed in her. 
 I don't want any sort of nasty gossip to grow out of this, there 
 has been enough of idle talk already ; it will deepen into some- 
 thing worse if it comes out that you followed me in order to 
 find where she hid. As far as I am concerned, if I have given 
 occasion for such talk, I must bear it, but it will injure her. 
 And it will trouble my dear father exceedingly. There you 
 have it in a nutshell. If you can, without breach of duty, 
 spare us, I shall be for ever grateful to you ; if you can't, well, 
 I must bear it, and so must my father, who will, 1 suppose, 
 resign his magistracy. But, first of all, consider what is your 
 duty, and do that. As for the past, and my impertinence to 
 you, an officer under the Queen, I heartily, unreservedly 
 say — I am sorry, and ask your forgiveness. There's my 
 hand.' 
 
 Tregaskis saluted, he was too modest to accept the proffered 
 hand of the young squire, but he said : 
 
 ' Sir, Mr. Justinian, I am touched. You may rely on me. 
 I will not say a word beyond what I am obliged. I am heartily 
 rejoiced to hear that you can clear Esther Morideg. I, myself, 
 have had my doubts about her guilt, for I have learned that 
 the lodge-keeper saw Mr. Physic go towards the Hall only 
 twenty minutes or half-an-hour before he was proved dead, 
 and the gardener saw him near the bungalow. Besides, 
 the butler says he called at the house to inquire after 
 Mrs. Curgenven. All which points to suicide rather than 
 murder.' 
 
 'Then I can swear,' said Justinian, 'that the pistol was in 
 its place on the rack an hour before, as I was in the smoking- 
 room of the bungalow after my gun, and saw it there. So that, 
 unless Esther were seen going to the bungalow within that 
 hour, the case against her falls to the ground ; and unless the 
 bench be as great owls as coroner and jury, they will see that, 
 and dismiss the case against Esther.' 
 
 ' There are difficulties still — what she said to the dowager 
 Mrs. Curgenven. But I dare say the girl saw what took
 
 THROWING UP THE BALL. 333 
 
 place, and was frightened, and ran away, thinking that in 
 some fashion the seeing Mr. Physic shoot himself would bring 
 her to trouble. Can't say — it may be so. But as to yourself, 
 sir, I'll not say anything I needn't say, not only for your 
 own sake, but for hers. Poor maid, she's suffered enough 
 already, and is now terrible off her head. I reckon she must 
 have been days and nights in soaking clothes, without fire or 
 food. She's got a rare constitution, but it would want that 
 of a rhinoceros to pull through such contraries as she has 
 undergone.' 
 
 Justinian walked off. ' Tregaskis is not such a bad fellow 
 as I thought him,' he commented, ' nor quite such a fool as I 
 supposed ; he'll get on in his profession. I'll speak to the 
 governor to give him a leg up.' 
 
 On reaching home the hour was late, past the dinner-hour, 
 but his father was not below. The butler told Justinian that 
 Mr. Curgenven was up-stairs with the doctor from Plymouth. 
 The boy hastily dressed, glad to relieve himself of his sopping 
 clothes, and then ran down again, to find his father with the 
 doctor descending the great staircase. 
 
 ' Above all,' said the latter, ' she must not be agitated. 
 Any shock, any strain might be fatal. I don't say she may 
 not pull through — but you must be careful. Mind this — the 
 best doctor, the best nurse, are absence from anxiety and from 
 worry ; negative nurse and negative doctor, but keep her 
 amused.' 
 
 Justinian could say nothing to his father at dinner, the 
 medical man was there, and in a hurry, as he had to catch a 
 train, but he saw that his father's face was grave, his mind 
 abstracted, so that he either did not hear or found no humour 
 in the doctor's jokes. 
 
 When the latter was gone, Justinian went to his father, took 
 his hand and said, ' Governor, is she very bad 1 ' 
 
 Percival pressed his son's hand and his lip quivered, he 
 could not speak. 
 
 ' May I go and see her to-night, gov. ? ' 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and the servant who was 
 acting as nurse came in, and said that her mistress was very 
 anxious to see Mr. Justinian, if he were returned. 
 
 ' Go, old boy,' said PercivaL ' It will fidget her if she does 
 not see you. I say,' he drew his son to his side, ' you won't 
 mind, will you, giving her a kiss 1 she will value it. She 
 hasn't but me who cares a snap for her, I mean. She will 
 be pleased, you know, and perhaps you mayn't have many
 
 334 MRS. CUROENTEN. 
 
 chances.' He stopped for a moment, and gulped something 
 down. 'Justin, she dues like you. Now don't excite her, be 
 very quiet. But if you could kiss her, it would be better 
 than a sleeping draught. I know it would give her so much 
 pleasure. I don't know what I shall do — but go along, don't 
 keep her waiting.' 
 
 On entering his step-mother's room, Justinian saw her sitting 
 where he had left her many hours before, in the same attitude, 
 the same picture of mute despair, a small dark figure in the 
 large room decorated with light curtains and paper, her dark 
 hair shining doubly dark against her white face and throat. 
 He was touched, and stepping over to her, stood behind the 
 chair, leaned forward, took her head between his hands, and 
 kissed it. 
 
 A flush of colour rose into her pale cheeks, and a light smile 
 formed on her lips. 
 
 ' Dear mother — dear, dear mother,' he said, fondling her thin 
 white fingers, • you must get well, you must do so for my 
 father's sake and mine. The governor is in a dreadful take-on 
 about you. 'Pon my word, I don't know what he would do 
 without you. There — you really will make an effort to shake 
 this off. It's only a good lusty effort is needed to make the 
 dad and me happy again.' 
 
 ' Dear Justin,' said Theresa, ' I would do anything for him 
 — anything I could— aud for you. I love you both. I have 
 no one else to love. But now tell me, what have you 
 done 1 ' 
 
 ' I must not excite you. That old codger, Tonks, said so.' 
 
 ' I shall be far more excited if I do not know what has taken 
 place. 1 shall fret and work myself into a fever.' 
 
 4 Oh, my dear mother, you are too cold and white to get 
 into a fever through any amount of excitement. I have 
 just seen fever, what it really is, ami you might as well talk 
 of scrambling up Salisbury steeple as of getting into a 
 fever.' 
 
 ' I really must know.' 
 
 ' And I really do not think I ought to tell you.' 
 
 She looked steadily at him out of her great dark eyes. 
 
 ' Indeed, Justin, it would kill me to be left in suspense.' 
 
 He seated himself, as he had done once before, at the time 
 when they had made peace, on a stool by her side, looking up 
 into her face. 
 
 ' Hang it ! I don't know what to do. I've gone boggling 
 about doing the wrong tilings all day, and chaps I've turned up
 
 THROWING UP THE BALL. 335 
 
 my nose at have had twice as much wits as myself. And now, 
 here am I — I heard old Tonks say you were not to be agitated, 
 that it was as much as your life was worth to be excited, that 
 you must be left in the most complete repose.' 
 
 ' But I cannot repose ; I shall not sleep a wink till I know 
 all. Where is Esther 1 ' 
 
 ' Must I say 1 ' The boy looked at her disconsolately. ' If 
 I do you harm, I shall never know an hour's peace. My 
 dear mother, I have such a pain in my heart now because you 
 are ill. I cannot endure more, indeed I cannot.' 
 
 ' You have bad tidings, and fear to tell me. Tell me all, or 
 I shall imagine something far worse than the reality.' 
 
 ' Well, if it must be. Esther is in the hands of the 
 police.' 
 
 Theresa dropped her hands on her lap, and looking dreamily 
 before her said, ' I thought it would come to that in time.' 
 
 ' She is in high fever. The poor girl has suffered dreadful 
 exposure, and has undergone great privation. When she was 
 found, she was delirious, and she is so still.' 
 
 ' She did all in her power for me. I will not desert her.' 
 
 Theresa spoke in a tone of weariness and resignation. 
 
 1 You know,' said Justinian, ' there is no reason why all 
 should come out, if you don't wish it ; and, of course, it 
 is better it should not. It is only to trail a red herring 
 across the path, and the police will go after it like a pack of 
 hounds.' 
 
 ' It must all come to light now,' said Theresa. ' I fought 
 against it as long as I could, but it is over — I mean fighting. 
 I have not the strength. It must all come out.' 
 
 She spoke calmly. 
 
 ' I say, I hope this won't upset you, and prevent your 
 sleeping to-night.' 
 
 1 No, I had made up my mind for it. I knew it must come. 
 I have felt it here ' — she touched her heart — 'a sort of some- 
 thing here that told me to — to throw up the ball.' 
 
 ' I am so glad you are not agitated.' 
 
 ' No. I am past that. I should have been agitated unless 
 I had been told all. Now, it is as well as it is. You will see 
 Esther, tell her ' 
 
 ' She is not in her senses.' 
 
 ' Yes, I remember, you said so. When she is herself again, 
 assure her that she shall get into no further trouble. I will 
 tell all.' 
 
 ' But there is really no necessity.'
 
 33G MRS. CTJRGENVEN. 
 
 With a faint smile Theresa said, 'There is no more game 
 after the ball is thrown up. I throw up the ball.' 
 
 ' Esther keeps on repeating that she will be silent. That is 
 what her heated brain holds to.' 
 
 ' More reason why I should Bpeak. Justin, dear' — she put 
 her hand out to him and he clasped it — 'Justin, dear, it is to 
 me an infinite comfort thai you have got over your prejudices 
 against me, and that you like me. You \\ ill never believe I 
 did this thing intentionally. I did it with. nit knowing what 
 I did, and I was fighting your battle and your dear father's, 
 though you were both unaware of it. You will find that out 
 now. To-morrow, it is too late now, to-morrow morning let 
 the rector and Mrs. Jane come here. I want to see them all, 
 and tell all before them and your father and you. You will 
 go for them 1 ' 
 
 ' If I must.' 
 
 4 1 wish it. And now- good-night. Kiss me once again, 
 Justin, it does me good.' 
 
 CHAPTER LIU. 
 
 THE END OF THE WILL. 
 
 At breakfast next morning Justinian asked his father how 
 the patient was. 
 
 ' She has had a quiet night ; she is getting up now, and 
 told me to remind you to bring old Pamphlet and Jane. 
 What she wants with Jane, I can't think ; about the last 
 person I'd like to see. And Jane is not the person to come 
 here, unless to gloat over Theresa's illness.' 
 
 It was unusual for Percival to speak harshly of any one, 
 but lie made an exception relative to Jane Curgenven. When 
 he did say sharp things, it was with a jaunty, good-humoured 
 air. that showed those who heard him that he did not mean 
 what his words implied; but it was otherwise now. His tone 
 was full of bitterness as he referred to the dowager Mis. 
 Cut genven. 
 
 ' 1 believe that woman, if my dear wife were dying, would ' 
 — Percival tore the toast he held in his hands to pieces, and
 
 THE END OF THE WILL. 337 
 
 ground his heel into the floor — ' no, Justin, I won't speak of 
 her. She makes my blood boil. She is one of your self- 
 righteous people who believe no one can be a good Christian 
 and respectable who does not hector and lecture the poor, take 
 a class at Sunday-school, and believe in missionaries. Justin, 
 I've knocked a good deal about the world, and for narrowness, 
 spitefulness, lack of charity, commend me to your professional 
 angels.' 
 
 Percival's hand quivered with anger. He said more in his 
 wrath than he really felt when cool, just as sometimes in 
 his jokes he gave vent to sentiments he did not seriously 
 entertain. 
 
 ' Justin, in the Arctic regions the Esquimaux wear a sort 
 of wooden spectacle, with a tiny slit in each eye-piece, and 
 they see nothing but what comes just within the radius of 
 this slit, and that they see only for harpooning purposes. It 
 is so with creatures of the Jane Curgenven type.' He thrust 
 away his plate. 'I've lost my appetite. I have done 
 breakfast.' 
 
 'Please, sir, a gentleman wants to see you.' The butler 
 spoke, standing in the door. 
 
 ' Who is it V 
 
 ' I think, sir, it is the young Mr. Physic' 
 
 ' Oh ! show him into the study. Stay — no — show him in 
 here, he must have ridden or driven over, and may like a 
 snack.' 
 
 In another moment a youth was introduced, dressed in 
 mourning, but in mourning of the most groom-like cut— short 
 coat, tight breeches buttoned down over the calves, a black 
 silk tie, with a horseshoe pin in it. 
 
 ' How do, sir,' said young Physic. ' Come early, I know. 
 Heaps of business since my poor uncle's affair. Awful affair 
 his. Amount of business to me overwhelming. I'm not used 
 to it.' 
 
 ' Are you going on with his business 1 ' 
 
 ' I ! Lawk, no ! Haven't the head for it. Never took to 
 an office. My uncle at one time did offer me a place at his 
 desk, but kicked me out before the fortnight was well over. 
 Sell his business. Hope I shall get an offer. Anyhow, I'm 
 clearing out, that's why I came over. Here's something I've 
 jumped on I s'pose concerns you. Here you are.' He fumbled 
 in his breast-pocket and pulled out a long envelope. 
 
 ' Mr. Physic, you must have had a long drive or ride.' 
 
 ' I rode.' 
 
 z
 
 338 MRS. OURGENVEN. 
 
 ' Then surely you will he glad of a little refreshment. We 
 are rather late at breakfast to-day. My poor wife is very 
 unwell, ami it bai apeet our arrangements. ' 
 
 •Thanks, I'll peck a hit.' Mr. Physic drew a chair to the 
 table. 
 
 'I say, 1 found that paper there i" my uncle's desk, ll 
 has " Curgenven " on it. Will, or something of the sort. I 
 don't want it, yen may have it. I suppose it belon s to you. 
 I know nothing about these *ort of things. I'm clearing out; 
 as soon ;is decent I'm going to marry, and set up here — I 
 mean at Liskeard. Livery stables is my notion. Pot a lot 
 of money that way and enjoy life. That's the straight tip, 
 eh?' 
 
 • Whv, preserve me ! This is a will — it is dear old Lambert's 
 will ! ' exclaimed Percival. 
 
 ' I dare say it is. S'pose so. Looks like it ; smells like it. 
 I hate all your legal papers, make me sick. Give me a stable, 
 that s y ur true home for a man of taste.' 
 
 ' Why, murder ! ' exclaimed Percival. ' It is the very will 
 old Fizz — I beg pardon, I mean Mr. Physic —flourished with, 
 and thought with it to scare me and my poor wife.' 
 
 'Ah ! I'm glad you like it. Thought 'twas something in 
 your way,' s >id the heir of Physic. ' Now, I'll trouble you — 
 let me see, Mr. Justinian, you cater — to a kidney, aid some 
 of the toast under. To my mind, there ain't nothing as'll 
 beat toast under kidney, well saturated and hot.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid this is not quite hot,' said Justinian. 
 
 ' Never mind ; it would be better hot, but it's good as it is. 
 I'll thank you for the potato chips, they look scrumptious.' 
 
 'Justin!' said Percival, 'run witn all your legs to the 
 rectory and fetch the venerable Pam and Jane. They must 
 see this, and, by George ! we shall have to put heads 
 together and consider what is to be done. I'll attend to Mr. 
 Physic' 
 
 ' You haven't,' said Mr. Physic, ' just a nip of something 
 warmer than that chilled coffee, have you 1 ? I've had a long 
 ride.' 
 
 ' I think I can serve you,' said Percival. ' By Jove ! this is 
 a perplexing affair. I don't know what to say to it, and 
 which way to take it. I don't even know whether the will is 
 a genuine article, or got up just to scare, like a turnip-head 
 with a candle inside. Run along, Justin. 'Pon my word, 
 I've a great mind to tell Theresa. It might interest her, and 
 she's awfully dull up there in her room. It can't excite her
 
 THE END OF THE WILL. 339 
 
 harmfully, and it might be a stimulant to her jaded interest. 
 I'm shot if I won't try it. Tonks said she was to be 
 kept amused. You will help yourself, and excuse me, 
 Mr. Physic' 
 
 ' Certainly, certainly, sir ; make yourself quite at home 
 with me. I never stand on ceremony myself, in my little box.' 
 Percival went up-stairs. 
 
 ' My dearest,' he said, ' such a joke ! — actually old Fizz was 
 right. There was a will.' 
 
 His wife looked up into his face lovingly, but with little 
 inquiry in it. 
 
 ' I mean — don't you remember ] — Physic frightened you 
 once with hinting that there had been a will made by Lambert 
 that left everything to Jane and AJice. Well, there was such 
 a will.' 
 
 ' Yes, I knew it. But where is the joke ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it's a grim sort of joke too, for I suppose it turns 
 me out of Curgenven. But I haven't mastered the contents, 
 only old Fizz did not speak without grounds as I supposed.' 
 
 'And the will ' 
 
 ' Here it is. It has turned up. A cub of a nephew has 
 come in for all Physic's property, and has found it, and brought 
 it here. He understands nothing about it, all his thoughts 
 are on horses.' 
 
 Percival put the will into his wife's hands, and she laid it 
 unopened on her lap. 
 
 ' I know its contents, Percy,' she said. ' It beggars you. 
 You will have to begin the world again.' 
 
 'For myself I don't care, but for you, T.' 
 
 ' For me 1 ' She looked wistfully at him for a while, and 
 then said, ' If I were young and strong, and this came on us, 
 I would not blink, but say, that at your dear side I would face 
 the world. We would go somewhere — anywhere — together, 
 and your hands and mine together would avail to find us 
 bread. But now, Percy, it is too late. All my strength is 
 spent, my confidence is gone.' 
 
 She turned the paper over and over with her wax-like fingers. 
 
 ' Percy,' she continued after a pause, ' I knew about this, 
 but you have little idea how I strove to obtain it, and what I 
 did to get it.' 
 
 'Why, T.?' 
 
 ' Why ? Oh, I was so afraid of it being produced, when 
 you, who are so happy here, and so completely now in the 
 right place, would be thrown out with nothing.'
 
 340 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 • My darling, I fall on my feet everywhere. I do not require 
 much to be happy, so long as I have you and Justin.' 
 
 'You do ii. >t require much, but you do require something, 
 
 and what have y<>u got? ' 
 
 He did not answer. In his careless manner he had not 
 thought out the consequences to himself. 
 
 ' And, T., darling, if you had got this will, what would you 
 have done with it? ' 
 
 ' Burnt it.' 
 
 'Then I am glad you never did get it. That would not 
 have been right.' 
 
 'But Jane would have nothing to say to it. Even the 
 bribe of Curgenven would not induce her to accept the position 
 as a condition for receiving it. Who was harmed ? ' 
 
 ' That was not the question. It was Lambert's will.' 
 
 'Yes, Lambert's will.' She turned the paper over on her 
 lap. ' I have read it through. It was written under the sup- 
 position that I was alive, and had made my presence known 
 and felt. Not a word, from beginning to end, of love, of con- 
 sideration for me. Not one farthing left to provide necessaries 
 for his real wife, the woman he had sworn to cherish, for 
 richer for poorer — whom he had vowed to endow with all his 
 worldly goods. All was to go to the other woman, to indem- 
 nify her for the fraud he had committed on her, as if no fraud 
 had been committed on me in deserting me, a poor young 
 thing, in leaving me helpless in the world, and not asking even 
 what became of me. I had no reason, Percy, to respect his 
 wishes.' 
 
 ' My dear, Lambert is dead.' 
 
 ' Yes, he is dead.' 
 
 A pause ensued. She was looking straight before her into 
 
 vacancy. 
 
 ' It seems to me plain as daylight, T.,' said Percival. ' Old 
 Lambert had this property left him unreservedly, and he 
 could give it to whom he chose. He intended it to go to 
 Alice. That was his wish, and he had a right to leave it to 
 her. Now I know that for certain, I will clear out whenever 
 required. I can always accommodate myself to circumstances.' 
 
 She gave him back the will, and said — 
 
 'You, with your clear eyes, always see what is right. Yes, 
 do as you think best. I was wrong, very wrong to meddle in 
 the matter ; but I did it for all your sakes. I loved you— no! 
 Jane — you and Justin.' 
 
 The servant tapped at the door.
 
 THE END OF THE WILL. 341 
 
 'The rector and the dowager Mrs. Curgenven are in the 
 drawing-room.' 
 
 ' I will be down at once,' said Percival. ' Good-bye for 
 a few minutes, T. I'll give old Pam and his daughter the 
 will, and pack off young Fizz, then I will be up with you 
 again.' 
 
 ' I wish to see the rector and Jane.' 
 
 ' They shall come with me.' 
 
 She held his hand. 
 
 ' I am so sorry, so sorry, dear Percival. I have another 
 great trouble for you.' 
 
 'Troubles do not oppress me greatly,' said Mr. Curgenven, 
 and left the room. 
 
 As Percival entered the parlour, the rector stepped forward 
 with a benignant smile : ' How are you, my dear Percival, and 
 how is your wife 1 ? I hear a bad account of her from every 
 one. What is it 1 Has she caught a chill 1 ' 
 
 * I have brought you something that will astonish you,' said 
 Percival, not answering the questions. He caught an eager 
 look in Jane Curgenven's eye, and thought, perhaps unjustly, 
 that she was hoping the news relating to Theresa would be 
 bad — had come there with the desire to hear she was in 
 danger. Why, otherwise, that keen flash in her eye? 
 
 Percival was prejudiced, and he would not shake hands 
 with her, or notice her ; he spoke to her father alone. 
 
 1 That old fellow, Physic, left his debts and his receipts, his 
 bills and banking account, to a snob of a nephew who won't 
 take on the business. This fellow has been rummaging in 
 Physic's desks and cupboards, and has come on the paper that 
 I hold. You shall look at it. Physic said something about 
 it to me, but I thought it was all gammon, and gave it no 
 great heed. However, here the document is. I have just 
 shown it to Theresa. Physic had been scaring her with it, so 
 she says. Look, it purports to be a will of Lambert, in 
 which he leaves evei*ything to Alice. I suppose it is all 
 right. You take it and read it over between you. I have 
 left the young Fizz in the breakfast-room with the spirit case 
 open, and I must see to him.' 
 
 Then Percival left the apartment. 
 
 Mrs. Jane pursed up her lips and planted her feet flat on 
 the carpet. 
 
 ' Now then, papa, what is this ] ' 
 
 1 My dear,' said the rector, looking at the paper which he 
 held with one hand, whilst he combed out his whiskers with
 
 :U2 MRS. CTTRGENVEN. 
 
 the other, 'it is just as I said ; there was no doubt about it. 
 Lambert had been married to — to — her.' 
 
 * He never was.' 
 
 ' Of course, it is most dreadful to think it, and if I had had 
 the very smallest suspicion ' 
 
 'Papa, never mind your suspicions, small or big. Read out 
 that paper. Is it what Mr. Physic hinted about — a will that 
 east abominable reflections on me 1 ' 
 
 'It is, my dear .Jane, a will Excuse me till I look it 
 
 over.' 
 
 ' Well, look it over then, and when you have done that, 
 pass it on to me.' 
 
 The rector, with a face very blank and combing vigorously 
 with one hand, read the will. It was not long, and could be 
 run through in half a minute. 
 
 'Well, papa?' 
 
 'Well, my dear, it is as I said. I really don't know what 
 to say. We shall have to come to some arraugement with 
 Percival. The thing must not be talked about. I would not 
 for a thousand pounds that it should get out that you had not 
 been properly married.' 
 
 ' I was properly married. You married me yourself.' 
 
 ' Yes, dear, but then the first wife was alive.' 
 
 'She was not alive.' 
 
 ' My dear, she really was. Here she is now — Percival's 
 wife.' 
 
 'She never was Lambert's wife.' 
 
 ' My dear, really you cannot maintain that. I wish, with 
 all my heart, that it could be proved she had been his — his — 
 the other thing, you know — and not his wife. That would 
 have been a great comfort, a great consolation. But, you see, 
 what with the register ' 
 
 ' That was a forgery.' 
 
 ' And with this will, signed by Lambert himself, there can 
 be no doubt about it, no doubt whatever. He calls you by 
 your maiden name, Jane Pamphlet, otherwise known as Jane 
 Curgenven. It is very shocking, and to happen in my family 
 it is almost sacrilege; and it will, should it become public, 
 materially interfere with my ministerial influence and ellicacy. 
 How can I, you see, Jane, reprimand in cases, unfortun.it. 
 cases ' 
 
 'Now, never mind all that, papa. Do you mean to tell me 
 you believe this abominable paper to be a genuine document?' 
 
 1 Of course it is. There is Lambert's signature — I know it
 
 ONCE MORE 'INVENI PORTUM.' 343 
 
 very well — and it was witnessed by old Roger Morideg and 
 also by Pike. The paper is perfectly genuine. There, also, is 
 Lambert's seal with the Curgenven arms.' 
 
 'Let me see it.' Jane snatched the will from her father, 
 and ran her eye hastily over it. 
 
 ' Good gracious I Oh, Jane ! Oh, goodness ! My dear 
 Jane ! ' Suddenly the rector whirled about on his heels and 
 faced a landscape in oils hanging on the wall. ' This is 
 certainly by Jeffrey. I know his style — these pale cobalt 
 blues and creamy shadows, and his foregrounds always weak. 
 I could swear to that tree — -so blotchy, and no particulariza- 
 tion about the rocks in front. Yes, certainly by Jeffrey.' 
 
 Then in came Percival. 
 
 ' Will you both come up to Theresa's room 1 ' he asked. 
 ' I've packed off that little snob, sent him with Justin to look 
 at the stables. Now then, come along, and bring the will 
 with you.' 
 
 ' The will ! ' gasped the rector. ' Ahem ! Percival, I've been 
 studying this landscape. It is by Jeffrey, is it not 1 ' 
 
 ' The will 1 ' said Jane, in defiant tone. ' There is no will.' 
 
 ' Lambert's will I left with you.' 
 
 ' That ! ' sniffed Jane — ' that insolent document I It was a 
 fabrication by Physic' 
 
 ' Never mind, I must have it.' 
 
 'You can't. I've eaten it.' 
 
 1 Eaten it ! ' 
 
 ' Every shred, every letter, and the sealing-wax as well.' 
 
 CHAPTER LIV 
 
 ONCE MORE 'INVENI PORTUM.' 
 
 Percival introduced the rector and his daughter into 
 Theresa's room. Jane was startled and shocked at the change 
 that had taken place in the wife of the Squire of Curgenven, 
 and with a qualm at her heart she regretted certain bitter 
 feelings she had of late yielded to and harsh words she had 
 expressed. The greenish hue about the mouth, the wax-like 
 whiteness, told a tale that could not be misunderstood.
 
 344 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 Theresa's eyes seemed extraordinarily large and dark, but 
 they lacked the lustre usual in them. 
 
 The rector was the first to approach her and hold out his 
 hand. Theresa, however, did not take it. 
 
 ' I will not,' she said, in a low tone. ' I would have you 
 first know what I have to say. You are not aware to whom 
 you oiler your hand. If, after what you have heard, you care 
 to give it me, I will take it with gratitude. I have been 
 engaged ' 
 
 She pointed to the little table at her side, where she had 
 been writing ; a sheet of paper was thickly covered with 
 characters. 
 
 ' It is not now I have done it. I saw it must come. I 
 have written a little one day — or night, then a little more. 
 It is done now, all but my signature, and that I wish to add 
 whilst you are here, that you may know what I have to 
 confess.' 
 
 ' To confess 1 ' said the rector, with a quiver in his voice. 
 ' I'm not a party man. I particularly object to anything that 
 may be said to savour, to — to wear an aspect — to ' 
 
 ' But really, papa,' said Jane, in a hard voice, ' really, papa, 
 there is nothing to alarm you in this. It is a writteu con- 
 fession, I understand, she wishes to have witnessed.' In an 
 undertone she said, ' Papa, do be sensible. It is all coming 
 out now about that affair with Lambert. I knew it would.' 
 
 ' My dear, it is an affair I wish to hear nothing about. It 
 cannot be wholesome. I never allow myself to hear of any- 
 thing that might not come out of or go into Peep of Day, or 
 The Dairyman's Daughter, or any other very good work 
 suitable for children and bedridden old women.' 
 
 ' Papa, you really must. It is to save my reputation.' 
 
 ' But — but — if people talk, my reputation will suffer.' 
 
 'Papa, I insist.' 
 
 ' My dear, if it must be ! Oh, I wish I had never come 
 here ! Combing his whiskers with both hands, he stepped 
 slowly towards Theresa, and said resignedly : 
 
 ' Well, what is it, then, my dear Mrs. CurgenvenT 
 
 ' Mrs. Percival,' was the correction thrown in by Jane. 
 
 'I feel,' said Theresa, slowly, as a faint colour came to her 
 cheeks in two spots, 'I feel that the time has come when it is 
 my duty to tell all I know.' 
 
 'My dear T.,' Percival was at her side, 'can you not put 
 this off to some later period. You really are not strong 
 enough to bear anything that may excite you. Tonks said
 
 ONCE MORE 'INVENI PORTUM.' 345 
 
 you were to be kept quiet ; I was to amuse you, but not worry 
 you.' 
 
 ' It would worry me, Percy, if I were not allowed to speak. 
 I have felt convinced for some little time that all efforts to 
 conceal the truth were in vain. That faithful, devoted girl, 
 Esther, has done what she could.' 
 
 'That has nothing in the world to do with it,' said Jane 
 bluntly. 
 
 Theresa turned and looked at her. 
 
 ' How, nothing?' 
 
 ' Nothing with that affair of Lambert.' 
 
 1 1 do not understand you. Esther knows all about the 
 death of Mr. Physic' 
 
 ' "We know that very well,' said Jane ; ' and now I am glad 
 to hear she has been areested. High time ! In our nineteenth 
 century — to give the police the slip ! It was preposterous. 
 They did not half look for her.' 
 
 ' I hear that she is under arrest, and charged with the murder 
 of Mr. Physic,' said Theresa. 
 
 ' Yes, it is so.' 
 
 ' She was not guilty. She had nothing to do with it. She 
 held his horse at a distance, that is all.' 
 
 ' But how can you tell, T. 1 ' said Percival. ' My dear, what 
 is the meaning of this 1 If Esther be innocent, of course she 
 will be discharged. You need not fret yourself about her.' 
 
 ' She must be discharged. She had no hand in it whatever. 
 She drew suspicion to herself to save me.' 
 
 ' You, T. ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I had done her a little kindness. She is a warm- 
 hearted, grateful creature ; and to draw away suspicion from 
 me ' 
 
 ' But, my dear T., suspicion could not possibly attach to you I 
 You were ill at home, confined to your room.' 
 
 ' I was there — for all that ; I was there, on the moor at 
 Tolmenna.' 
 
 ' It is not possible ! ' 
 
 ' It is true. I took the pistol from the bungalow, I 
 
 1 Stay, stay ! ' cried the rector ; ' I will hear no more. This 
 is most dreadful. I would not for the world ! There would 
 
 be so much talk. It — it might interfere ' He ran to 
 
 the window, seized the curtain and wrapped it round his head, 
 muffling eyes and ears. Through the folds could be heard a 
 mutter of words, but whether these were ' advancement ' or 
 ' ministerial efficacy ' could not be distinguished.
 
 346 mrs. cn:<; i:\ven. 
 
 Jane Curgenven went after her fatlier. 
 
 ' Papa, be reasonable. Do pay attention. You must come 
 out of that.' She endeavoured to unwrap his head, but the 
 more she strove to release him the further he wound himself 
 up, till his head resembled a vast cocoon of a silkworm. 
 
 Finding her efforts unavailing, and unwilling to lose a word 
 of what was being said by Theresa, she turned back to the 
 chair of the sick woman. Theresa looked round with a face 
 full of distress and plea for mercy. 
 
 ' I shot him ! ' she said. 
 
 A dead silence ensued. Percival and Jane were too much 
 astonished to speak. Neither quite believed that Theresa was 
 in her senses. They thought that she was labouring under an 
 hallucination. 
 
 ' I knew that he had that will. I did not wish my dear, 
 deur husband to be thrown out of Curgenven to struggle with 
 the world for a livelihood. For myself, I could not face the 
 prospect. I was weary, weary to death of the voyage against 
 contrary winds ; beaten, battered by storm. I had not t he 
 strength, not the self-confidence, not the courage. I — I could 
 not, no, I could not go back to what had been. Alone it would 
 have been bad, but with Percival worse. Mr. Physic offered 
 to sell me the will for the family jewels.' 
 
 ' Not those diamonds of Lady Margaret's 1 ' gasped Jane. 
 
 'The family jewels,' repeated Theresa. 'I could not give 
 them up, and yet I could not let him keep the will. I tried 
 to frighten him. I can't tell you all — it is written here. I 
 have put it in this paper at length. But I solemnly assure 
 you I did not know the pistol was loaded ; I thought merely 
 
 to threaten Mr. Physic. You, Mr. Pamphlet, advised me ' 
 
 She looked round ' Where is the rector 1 ' 
 
 I Never mind, he can't hear,' said Jane ; ' that is to say, he 
 doesn't choose to hear.' 
 
 I I thought it was the last blast of the storm, and then I 
 would be at peace. I was weary — I wanted rest. I — I never 
 meant it — I ' 
 
 'Theresa, <le.-ir, do not distress yourself,' said Percival, 
 going to her. She was sinking in her chair. The slight 
 colour had gone out of her cheeks. She was death-like in her 
 whiteness. 
 
 1 Will you take my hand, Percy? there is blood on it. But 
 I never, never meant to kill him. It was rest from care and 
 bat tie that I wanted. I had fought and toiled all my life. 
 Every one was against me ; no, not every one, you loved me,'
 
 THE EIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACES. 347 
 
 Percival seated himself on the elbow of her chair, put one 
 arm round her to hold her up, and clasped her hand. 
 
 She was silent for some while, breathing heavily, and 
 gathering her failing, scattered senses. 
 
 ' Percy, where is the table ? ' 
 
 'Here, love.' 
 
 ' I want to sign it all.' 
 
 'I pray you be calm, and do not concern yourself about it.' 
 
 'I must do it. Esther is in prison.' 
 
 ' No, not in prison, dear.' 
 
 ' She is very ill, and the police have taken her. Give me 
 the pen — where is it 1 ' 
 
 She turned in her chair and groped for the paper and pen ; 
 her sight was failing. 
 
 ' Have you dipped it 1 Hold me, Percy ; hold me up whilst 
 I write.' 
 
 She took the pen and bowed her head over the paper on 
 which she had written the story of what she had done. 
 
 Jane drew near and watched eagerly. 
 
 Theresa was writing laboriously ; she seemed not to be able 
 to see the letters she was forming. Then her head sank upon 
 the table, and she lay heavily on Percival's arm. 
 
 1 Oh, Jane,' gasped he, ' she has fainted ! ' 
 
 1 She is dead ! ' said Jane, and drew the paper from under 
 the white face, and looked for the signature. It was not 
 there. In straggling characters the words were written, and 
 still were wet : ' Invent portum.' 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 THE RIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACES. 
 
 ' Of all the owls that inhabit the British Isles,' said Jus- 
 tinian, ' commend me for sheer owlishness to the police force 
 and the magistracy — present company excepted,' he conceded, 
 waving his hand towards his father. ' I may add, a British 
 coroner and jury. In the first place, these latter found that 
 old Physic had been shot by Esther, and now these former 
 have proved that she did nothing of the sort. If they had
 
 348 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 stopped there, it would have been well — but they have gone 
 on to declare that he shot himself.' 
 
 ' Why, Justin, old fellow, that was your own theory.' 
 
 Justinian was a little staggered. It had been his theory, 
 and he had proclaimed the police owls for not adopting his 
 view. However, he speedily recovered ins self-satisfaction and 
 balance, and said, ' Yes, till I knew better or worse, as you 
 like to take it. It was not my profession or duty to investigate 
 the matter, and on a superficial acquaintance with it, I came 
 to that conclusion which a sound intelligence would arrive at 
 on such data ; but when I began to go into the matter, then 
 I speedily found it wouldn't wash. I gave my evidence sharp 
 and to the point — not a word too much. Just what I was 
 asked and no more. Had I observed the pistol hanging in 
 the rack an hour before the fatal affair ? I had. Wha* 
 opportunity had I for arriving at this conviction ] The best : 
 I had gone into the bungalow to fetch my gun. Where had 
 I gone with my gun ? To Cartuthers, to Sir Sampson's. 
 He had a shooting party — only rabbits. Anything more? 
 " Nothing more, thank you," from the bench. So I left the 
 box. Aunt Jane went through her performance, I must say, 
 though I don't like her, well. She had jumped to conclusions 
 on wrong premises, no doubt about it. She had jumped to 
 conclusions hastily, and it was all her doing that the coroner 
 found what he did, or he and the jury, rubbing their stupid 
 noddles together. She got out of it very well. She said just 
 what was wanted, and no more. She told how Esther had 
 come bouncing down on her with the pistol, and had said that 
 with it Physic had been shot. At once, as she admitted, ahe 
 had rushed to the conclusion that Esther had done the deed ; 
 she now admitted that the conclusion was hardly justified. 
 Esther had not exactly said she had done the deed, but that 
 the pistol had done it, a statement quite compatible with the 
 theory that he had shot himself.' 
 
 1 And then, I suppose, the lodge-keoper was put in the 
 box 1 ' 
 
 ' No. dad, that fellow Pike next, and he made mental 
 prancings and buck-jumping. He involved himself in all kinds 
 of contradictions, and the bench —Sir Sampson was chairman 
 — had to warn him. I don't think he meant any harm, but 
 that he was intellectually incapable of giving a straight answer. 
 There you have the difference between culture and absence of 
 Culture. Whereas I ' 
 
 'Yet you deceived the bench just as much as he.'
 
 THE RIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACES 349 
 
 ' I, gov. % Not I. I said what was true — true down to the 
 ground. Had they asked me whether my step-mother had had 
 any finger in the matter, I should have been proud to say what 
 I knew ; I could not tell a lie even to save the reputation of 
 the Curgenven family. But not a trace of a suspicion entered 
 their obfuscated noddles that she was out that day, and had 
 met Physic at Tolmenna. Unasked 1 was not going to tell 
 them — not I. The Curgenven name must not be stained ; 
 besides, it was of no use now the dear mother is no more. I 
 would spare her memory as I would save our name. Every- 
 thing came out pat and to the point. The lodge-keeper had 
 seen Physic ride his cob in at the gates. The butler had 
 answered the door when he came to inquire how Mrs. Cur- 
 genven was. He told the butler it had reached him that she 
 had had a fit ; Turbot did not send up to inquire, but answered 
 offhand, that his lady was slightly better, but confined to her 
 room. Then the keeper saw him near the bungalow. The 
 next thing heard of him was that he was shot at Tolmenna. 
 He was going to open a mine there, you know. Well, dad, it 
 came out before the bench that old Physic's affairs were in a 
 very bad state, and that there was going to be an inquiry into 
 the way in which he had managed the Camden property. It 
 seems probable that this frightened him. He dared not await 
 exposure. Since his death, frauds have been detected. Then 
 Esther must have seen him shoot himself ; she was awfully 
 droll at the petty sessions. There was no getting a word out 
 of her. That is to say, she kept on repeating, " I'll die game, 
 I shan't speak nothing," and she kept her word. Sir Sampson, 
 and the rest of the bench, thought she was an idiot or a 
 savage, and gave her up in despair. But they did not in the 
 
 least believe, after the evidence, that she had shot Physic, and 
 
 so they discharged her.' 
 ' How is the poor girl 1 ' 
 ' She is better. She has been awfully ill, but she is picking 
 
 up now. The Tregaskis family, brother and sister, have 
 
 been good to her, and keep her with them until she is quite 
 
 recovered ; but they say she is impatient to be back on the 
 
 moors again.' 
 
 ' Justinian, old boy, there is a matter I want to talk over 
 
 with you, but I haven't had the heart since my dear T.'s 
 
 death.' 
 
 ' Governor, at the petty sessions the bench, I believe, passed 
 
 a resolution of condolence with you on your loss.' 
 
 ' That's all very fine, but why did not their wives come and
 
 350 MRS. OUKGENVEN. 
 
 call on T.I It was the doing of that Jane, I am convinced. 
 1 do not know what Jane said, or left unsaid, but she set all 
 the women against her. Dear T. felt it — felt it keenly; 
 it half broke her beart, I am sure of it. Now you'll see — 
 after about six months they'll come calling, or making their 
 husbands come to visit me. I'm disengaged now, and may be 
 captured. In vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird ; 
 and not one of those women who turned up their noses nt my 
 T. shall set foot in this house if I can help it. That's my 
 last word. Justin, I give you full leave to shoot me if I go 
 from it. No, put me in an asylum, I shall be lit for that if I 
 so far forget what is due to her dear and honoured memory. 
 Justin, old chap, it has been my lot to have at my side two of 
 the best of women, and both Bohemians, as I suppose society 
 would label them. Admirable women both ; 'pon my word, 
 Justin, I was not worthy of either.' 
 
 ' What is it that you wanted to consult me about?' asked 
 Justinian. 
 
 ' Oh, I forgot ! It is this, boy. I gave you a sort of rough 
 idea of how matters stood about the property. I'm hanged if I 
 think I have any right to be here, and yet what am I to do 1 
 Jane will have none of it. I told you the reason. Besides, she 
 has eaten the will. How she got it down I can't think. And 
 there was a seal too, the Curgenven arms. But a woman of 
 that sort will do anything — has the stomach of an ostrich and 
 the conscience of a giraffe. What is to be done 1 ? I don't feel 
 that in honour I ought to be here — and yet legally I am 
 squire — that is, without the eaten will. Really, the place 
 belongs to Alice, or will belong to her when she is of age. I 
 can act as trustee. I believe old Lambert did want me and 
 Jane to be the trustees, but then, when Alice is of age, I shall 
 be bound in honour, I feel, to clear out and make way for her, 
 and of course she will be snapped up by some young fellow, 
 and I must find some other berth.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you need not concern yourself, governor. I am glad 
 you have consulted me, and I happen to be the person — the 
 only person — who could put you to rights. I am going to 
 marry Alice.' 
 
 ' You, Justin ! ' 
 
 ' Why not ? It is all settled between us. I shall be of age 
 next year, and Alice eighteen, so we can be married right off 
 then. You can have the bungalow fitted up for yourself, or 
 stay here with us —just as you like. You will be most heartily 
 welcome. Always a knife and fork for you, gov.'
 
 THE RIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACES. 351 
 
 ' Upon my word- 
 
 'That settles every difficulty.' 
 
 ' Upon my word, I'll have you on the Commission as soon as 
 ever you are of age. By George ! you'll be a model J.P., and 
 Chairman of Board of Guardians, and all that sort of thing. 
 The square man in the square hole at last.' 
 
 ' Papa, really I cannot conceive how you could do it 1 ' 
 
 1 Do what, my love 1 ' 
 
 ' Preach a funeral sermon on that woman.' 
 
 ' My dear, I could not help myself. She was squiress, and 
 if I had not done so, people would have talked.' 
 
 ' I could not have done it.' 
 
 ' I dare say not, my dear. But, Jane, you are not in my 
 place, have not my responsibilities. I have been ordained, and 
 set apart for the special office and function of giving no offence 
 to any man, that the ministry be not blamed, and I natter 
 myself that I do my duty. I give offence to none. Besides, 
 in the matter of the funeral sermon, I dealt in generalities.' 
 
 ' The text itself was outrageous. I turned white and red.' 
 
 ' The text was perfectly harmless. " Who can find a vir- 
 tuous woman ? her price is above rubies." It was a question. 
 If that were turned into Latin, one would be in difficulties. 
 For if a num were employed, it would at once imply that no 
 such person was to be found. Happily our language is suffi- 
 ciently vague to allow of leaving the question open.' 
 
 ' But it did imply that she was a virtuous woman, and that 
 is precisely what you know she was not.' 
 
 ' I know nothing. Whatever may have been said whilst 
 my head was wrapped up in the curtain, I, of course, cannot 
 tell. Knowing nothing, I could use that text ; and even if I 
 had known anything against her, by throwing the stress of 
 my voice on can and virtuous, I could have implied, had I 
 chosen, that she was not all she might have been. But I did 
 not choose — I could not offend Percival. And Justinian is 
 just as peppery and ready to fire up at a word of disparage- 
 ment of his step-mother as is Percival.' 
 
 ' If I had known you were going to preach that sermon, I 
 would not have gone to church. How about a monument in 
 the Curgenven aisle 1 You will not allow that 1 ' 
 
 ' I cannot refuse.' 
 
 ' Then charge treble fees.' 
 
 ' Nor can I do that legally.' 
 
 ' Then insist on seeing the inscription. And, for mercy's
 
 352 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 sake, have no fibs on that ; and no texts of Scripture exalting 
 the deceased into being a saint. That, at least, you can 
 legally prevent.' 
 
 ' Percival has been to me already about the monument, and 
 has written out what he thinks a suitable inscription. Here 
 it is.' 
 
 Jane Ourgenven ran her eyes over the paper her father pre- 
 sented to her, 
 
 'Well — the dearly beloved wife — I suppose he did care 
 for her. There are queer tastes in the world. And for the 
 text, what is that? It is Latin.' 
 
 ' Yes, Inveni portwm : I have found harbour.' 
 
 Jane returned the paper. ' It will do ; but, papa, how could 
 you take the text you did, with its allusion to the jewels?' 
 
 ' .My dear, why not ? ' 
 
 ' The jewels, papa ; why surely you have not forgotten ? 
 The Curgenven jewels lost — made away with. It is mon- 
 strous. She had some cock-and-bull story to account for their 
 disappearance, no doubt. The fact is, the jewels are gone — 
 made away with. Were they pawned? Were they sold? 
 Who pocketed the money? You may depend upon it there 
 is some ugly story behind the disappearance of the jewels. 
 Lady Margaret Curgenven's diamonds gone ! It is too hor- 
 rible. I wish to goodness now I had not left them at the 
 house. I thought I was in conscience bound to do so, and I 
 did it. Now they are all gone, and you talked of jewels in 
 connection with her and her virtue in church. Really, papa, 
 there is a limit to charity.' 
 
 ' My dear, I made no definite statement. I never do, I en- 
 velop all I say in a cloud of generalities, or take the edge off 
 everything that appears to be a definite statement by qualifica- 
 tions with " but " and " if." I trust that no one can say that 
 I have ever, in my long ministerial career, given any one any- 
 thing that he could lay hold of. And — but here come the 
 letters.' 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Pamphlet opened the first. 
 
 ' My dear, here is my reward. An archdeaconry and 
 canonry. I really do think I have deserved them, and that 
 I shall be the round man in the round hole.'
 
 'CIVILIZATION BE BLOWED.' 353 
 
 CHAPTER LYI. 
 
 'CIVILIZATION BE BLOWED.' 
 
 The bells were pealing. A twelvemonth was past, and 
 Justinian was married to Alice. 
 
 The rectory was crowded with friends and acquaintances. 
 To attend at breakfast the butler Turbot and a footman had 
 been brought from the Hall. The Venerable the Archdeacon 
 strutted about in gaiters and corded hat, bowing, smiling, 
 saying agreeable things to every one. He had hopes that if 
 he remained absolutely colourless, his teaching absolutely 
 insipid, the way was open to him to become a bishop. 
 
 'Well, Percival, a proud day for you, to see your son and 
 heir married. How are you? You don't look over cheerful.' 
 
 ' Hang it, Archdeacon, no ! I can't forget T. It would 
 have pleased her.' 
 
 1 You must not look back. By the way, you'll be gratified 
 to hear that Mrs. Jordan has joined the Church. Since I have 
 given her my washing, she has left the Particular Baptists, 
 and is now regular in her attendance on my ministrations.' 
 
 ' I say, my dear Archdeacon, what is the tale I hear about 
 Tregaskis 1 ' 
 
 ' I really cannot inform you. The man has not attended my 
 humble ministrations for some time, and I hear is leaving, or 
 being turned out of the police force. I have visited him, and I 
 regret to say that I found him in a condition of demoralization 
 very painful to contemplate. Demoralization is, perhaps, too 
 strong a term, but what I mean is resentment against — 
 recalcitration against everything that I and Jane and all right- 
 thinking people cherish. I mean our nineteenth-century civil- 
 ization, that network of silk that enfolds and, perhaps — well, 
 perhaps embarrasses us, but it is for our good. I said some- 
 thing to him on the advantages of civilization, and his response 
 was neither elegant nor grammatical. He said civilization 
 
 be 1 cannot complete the sentence. To repeat what is 
 
 neither elegant nor grammatical might interfere with my 
 minis — I mean my archidiaconal weight. It was something 
 that is done to soap-bubbles. Who is that 1 What is that 
 noise, Turbot ] ' 
 
 ' Beg pardon, Mr. Archdeacon, there's Esther Morideg has 
 
 A A
 
 354 MRS. CURGENVEN. 
 
 coine in at the front door, right in among the gentlefolks, and 
 never rung nor nothing. She Bays that she wants — Mr. Arch- 
 deacon — to see Miss Alice. I beg pardon — meaning Mrs. 
 Curgenven of Curgenven.' 
 
 'What is that? What is that?' exclaimed Jane, who was 
 near; then in ber energetic, determined manner she rushed 
 into the hall, and there found Ksther making her way through 
 the guests, in Bpite of the remonstrances of John Thomas, the 
 footman. 
 
 • I reckon I'm as good a friend o' Miss Alice as any o' these 
 fine folk here, 1 said the girl. 'Where be she? I want to 
 speak wi' she, and I've gotten sum'ut for she too.' 
 
 'Esther, what's the meaning of this?' exclaimed Mrs. Jane 
 Curgenven. 'This is intolerable. In at the front door! If 
 you want anything, go to the back. But, you are not wanted. 
 This is no place for you, and I can't have you bothering the 
 servants either — they are all engaged.' 
 
 ' Yourn't going to turn me out o' this as you turned me out 
 o' the |>ai-k at the school treat ! ' said Esther, defiantly. ' I be 
 growed big since then.' She tossed her shoulders. ' I know 
 this, I wi'n't go. I wi'n't go till I ha' seed .Miss Alice. Her 
 and I be fast friends, and I ha' gotten sum'ut for she.' 
 
 ' What is t hat ? Why, goodness ' Jane tried to snatch 
 
 a box from under Esther's arm. ' That's the Curgenven jewel- 
 case. Esther ! what right have you to that ? Where did you 
 get that?' 
 
 ■ Where I got'n, and how I got 'n, is naught to you. I'm 
 bringing it for Miss Alice.' 
 
 ' Give it to me at once, I insist. That box has been lost 
 for a twelvemonth — it wns made away with. You stole it. 
 I'll have you summoned. Give it up to me instantly.' 
 
 ' I wi'n't,' said Esther, defiantly. ' Why should I ? I'll givo 
 it, I reckon, to Miss Alice — her's the true Mrs. Curgenven of 
 Curgenven now. The butler chap said so. I reckon you've 
 no more to do wi' it than he has. I'll gi'e it to the proper Mrs. 
 Curgenven of Curgenven, and none other.' 
 
 At that moment Alice, in her travelling dress, descended the 
 stairs. In a moment she saw Esther, and came to her with 
 both hands extended. 'My dear Esther ! I am so delighted. 
 You, too, have come to wish me happiness. That was the only 
 thing wanting to make mo quite happy. Come along with me 
 up-stairs, and I will show you all the pretty things that kind 
 friends have given me.' 
 
 She led Esther away out of the throng to her room.
 
 'CIVILIZATION BE BLOWED.' 355 
 
 ' Now, Esther,' she said, ' sit down and tell me all about 
 yourself. You are quite well again now 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes, I reckon I'm just as I was. And see here, Miss Alice, 
 I've brought you all the Curgenven diamonds and pearls, and 
 other beauties. They was lost, but I had 'em. And yet I'd 
 clean forgot all about 'em. You know I was cruel bad wi' 
 fever, and then I dun' know, I niver gave a thought to 'em, 
 till I heard as you was a-goin' to be married, and then all to 
 once they jumped into my head. I had 'em all under a floor- 
 stone to Tolmenna. I reckon there ain't one lost. No one 
 niver has touched 'em since I put 'em there. There, that's 
 brave, on your weddin' day I can give you a better present 
 than all them beautiful things the grand folk ha' given you.' 
 
 ' And you wish me all happiness, dear Esther.' 
 
 ' 'IDes, I reckon I do. It's I, too, as made it all come about. 
 Didn't I put your hands together through the hnle at Tolmeuna ] 
 Well, folks as ha' done that, they're sure joined more nrv any 
 parson or registrar can make 'em. That be how Tregaskis 
 and I is goin' to be married.' 
 
 ' Esther ! Tregaskis going to marry you ? The constable ! ' 
 
 ' No — I reckon it's I be going to marry Tregaskis. But he's 
 no constable no more, soas ! ' 
 
 ' What, has he left the force 1 ' 
 
 ' I'll just tell 'ee all about it,' said Esther, seating herself. 
 ' Tregaskis be cruel sweet on me ; he hev' took a fancy to I 
 ever sin' I were i' fever i' his sister's and his house. I can't 
 blame him. He ain't a bad 'un now he's seed the error o' his 
 ways, and found liberty.' 
 
 'What do you meau, Esther 1 ?' Alice had some little ac- 
 quaintance with the quaint revivalist cant that pervades all 
 the working-classes in Cornwall, but she did not see how this 
 exactly applied to the constable. ' Sure Mr. Tregaskis has 
 always been a most exemplary man.' 
 
 ' He's been terrible under the law, as folks say,' answered 
 Esther. • But I'm right glad to say now, Miss Alice, he's 
 found liberty.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Esther, I do not understand you.' 
 
 ' It's easy though/ said the moor-girl. ' When Tregaskis 
 told the sergeant he were going to be married to I, then they 
 kicked up such a bobbery. They said it would bring disgrace 
 on the force, and they — that's the sergeant and the superin- 
 tendent — wouldn't have it, and they'd have Tregaskis moved 
 off somewhere to the hinder end o' Cornwall. Well, Tregaskis 
 wouldn't stan' this, and so it come about that it was he must
 
 356 MIJS. (M'liCKNVKN. 
 
 go out o' the force, or do without J ; and oat'rally he couldn't 
 do that, so he's no more a perleoeman, and under the law. 
 And he says he's cruel glad, and feels lighter and easier 
 already; it's like a burden lifted off his heart. He had 
 
 to be always on duty, and walkin' the rounds night and day, 
 meeting other perlece, and all for no good at all. And then 
 he was that tight squedged up i' his uniform, and his poor 
 head boxed up i' a sort of helmet. It were the hondage of 
 Egypt. But he's found liberty now, and is out o' it all.' 
 
 ' But what is Tregaskis going to do 1 ' 
 
 ' Nothing, that's just it,' answered Esther, cheerily. • Gran'- 
 fer, and he, and I be a-goin' to build up Tolmenna once more. 
 It seems old Lawyer Physic hadn't no proper title to the land, 
 or sum'ut's gone wrong, and I reckon nobody knows exactly 
 whose it is, or p'r'aps it be gone back to the lord o' the manor. 
 Anyhow, us is goin' to tumble the old place together again ; 
 us can do it in a couple o' days.' 
 
 ' Yes, that is all very well ; but for a livelihood V 
 
 'Us don't want a terrible deal on the moor — no more nor 
 does long cripples' (snakes), 'or horuiwinks' (peewits). ' But 
 it'll make gran'mothur easy i' her mind ; you know her couldn't 
 die i' peace wi'out giving up her secret to somebody, and her'll 
 give it to Tregaskis, and I reckon he'll pick up a shilling or so 
 in charmin' warts, and tellin' fortunes, and strikin' king's evil, 
 and blessin' wounds, and staunchin' blood and so.' 
 
 ' But, Esther, this is a wonderful change in Mr. Tregaskis — 
 a policeman to become a white- witch.' 
 
 1 'Ees, I reckon it be,' said Esther, in a tone of triumph. 
 ' But he sez, sez he, wi' a crow like a cock, " Civilization be 
 blowed." He be a changed creature — that he be, I do assure 
 you, miss ; you'd say so, if you seed him now.' 
 
 ' Why, what is he about now ? ' 
 
 ' He's a-tearin' up o' his clothes, his uniform, you know, 
 and he's chuckin' all the buttons with the crown on 'em into 
 Trewortha Marsh, where a twelvemonth agone he runned arter 
 me, and tummled in, up to his chin, i' the bog water.' Esther 
 went off into a fit of laughter. ' Bless y', Miss Alice, us be 
 goin' to have a figgy ' (plum) ' puddin' to our weddin', and us be 
 a-goin' to bile 'n i' his helmet. The young squire said I was 
 to tak' what sticks I liked out o' the Curgenven woods, and 
 we'll bile our puddin' on them sticks and a few clots o' turf 
 'Twill be brave.' 
 
 ' The carriage is at the door,' said the servant, after 
 knocking.
 
 'CIVILIZATION BE BLOWED.' 357 
 
 ' Now really, Esther, I must go. Good-bye ; give me a kiss.' 
 
 ' You'll come and see me and Tregaskis, won't you?' pleaded 
 the wild girl. 
 
 ' Dear Esther, yes, but only on one condition — that you are 
 married in church. Passing the hands through the hole in 
 the stone may satisfy you and the ex-constable, but not me. 
 Promise me that.' 
 
 ' Very well, I'll do that just to oblige you,' said Esther, re- 
 signedly, ' but it's terrible like going under the law again. I'll 
 do it. I'll tell y' somethin' more as'll make y' laugh. Rainy 
 days, and when us has got nothin' to do, Tregaskis and me'll 
 knock each other about the head wi' his truncheon, just for 
 exercise, and to amuse gran'fer and gran'mother.' 
 
 ' I really must go,' said Alice, and descended the stairs, 
 attended by Esther. 
 
 ' What, you still here ! ' exclaimed Jane. ' I thought I had 
 ordered you out of this house. Really, Alice, you must not 
 encourage this girl.' 
 
 ' Now you leave she alone,' said Esther, ' it's no concern of 
 yourn. And I tell y' I'll walk wi' my young man about i' the 
 park, and nobody shall say " Get out " now. You ar'n't 
 nothin'. Her's Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven.' 
 
 The carriage drove away, the slipper was thrown, rice was 
 showered. The Archdeacon and Jane Curgenven stood in the 
 drive looking after the carriage. 
 
 Jane uttered a little groan. ' I never, never thought that, 
 or I never would have consented.' 
 
 < What, love % ' 
 
 ' That my child, that chit, should take precedence over me, 
 and be Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven.' 
 
 THE END.
 
 The Riverside Press Limited, Edinburgh.
 
 A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY METHUEN 
 
 AND COMPANY: LONDON 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET 
 
 w.c. 
 
 
 CONT 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 GENERAL LITERATURE, . 
 
 
 2-20 
 
 antiquary's BOOKS, . 
 
 
 20 
 
 beginner's BOOKS, 
 
 
 20 
 
 BUSINESS BOOKS, . 
 
 
 20 
 
 BYZANTINE TEXTS, 
 
 
 21 
 
 churchman's bible, . 
 
 
 21 
 
 churchman's library, 
 
 
 21 
 
 CLASSICAL TRANSLATIONS, 
 
 
 22 
 
 commercial series, . 
 
 
 22 
 
 connoisseur's library, 
 
 
 23 
 
 LIBRARY OF DEVOTION, 
 
 
 23 
 
 ILLUSTRATED POCKET LIBR 
 
 ARY 
 
 OF 
 
 PLAIN AND COLOURED BOC 
 
 )KS, 
 
 23 
 
 JUNIOR EXAMINATION SERIE 
 
 s, 
 
 25 
 
 METHUEN'S JUNIOR SCHOOL 
 
 ■BOOKS, 25 
 
 LEADERS OF RELIGION, 
 
 • 
 
 26 
 
 LITTLE BLUE BOOKS, . 
 
 . 
 
 :6 
 
 ENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 LITTLE BOOKS ON ART, . . 26 
 
 LITTLE GALLERIES, . . . 26 
 
 LITTLE GUIDES, .... 27 
 
 LITTLE LIBRARY, .... 27 
 
 METHUEN'S MINIATURE LIBRARY, 28 
 
 OXFORD BIOGRAPHIES, ... 28 
 
 SCHOOL EXAMINATION SERIES, . 29 
 
 SOCIAL QUESTIONS OF TO-DAY, . 29 
 
 TEXTBOOKS OF TECHNOLOGY, . 29 
 
 HANDBOOKS OF THEOLOGY, . . 30 
 
 METHUEN'S UNIVERSAL LIBRARY, 30 
 
 WESTMINSTER COMMENTARIES, . 31 
 
 FICTION, 32-4° 
 
 METHUEN'S SHILLING NOVELS, . 39 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, . 40 
 
 NOVELS OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS, . 40 
 
 MARCH 1905
 
 A CATALOGUE OF 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's 
 
 PUBLICATIONS 
 
 Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. Methuen's Novels issued 
 at a price above 2s. 6d. , and similar editions are published of some works of 
 General Literature. These are marked in the Catalogue. Colonial editions 
 are only for circulation in the British Colonies and India. 
 
 An asterisk denotes that a book in the Press. 
 
 Part I. — General Literature 
 
 Abbot (Jacob). See Little Blue Books. 
 
 AcatOSlM. J.)., Modern Language Master at King Edward School, Birmingham. 
 
 See Junior School Books. 
 Adams (Frank). JACK SPRATT. With 24. Coloured Pictures. Sufer Royal 161/10. 2s. 
 Adeney (W. F.), M.A. See Bennett and Adeney. 
 ^EschylUS. See Classical Translations. 
 JEsop. See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 
 Ainaworth (W. Harrison). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 
 ■AldersoniJ.P.). MR. ASQUITH. With Portraitsand Illustrations. DetnvZvo. ys.6ti.net. 
 Alexander (William), D.D., Archbishop of Armagh. THOUGHTS AND COUNSEL^ 
 
 OF M \NY YEARS. Selecteilv J. H. Burn, B.D. Demy i6mo. is. 6d. 
 Aiken (Henry). THE NATIONAL SPORTS OF GREAT BRITAIN. With descrip- 
 
 tions in English and French. With 51 Coloured Plates. Royal Folio. Five Guineas net. 
 See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 AHen (Jessie). See Little Books on Art. 
 Allen (J. RomiUy). F.S. A. See Antiquary's Books. 
 Almack (E >. See Little Books 011 Art. 
 Amherst (Lady 1. A SKETCH OF EGYPTIAN' HISTORY FROM THE EARLIEST 
 
 TIMES TO THE PRESENT DAY. With many Illustrations, some of which are in 
 
 Colour. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Anderson (F. M.). THE STORY OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE FOR CHILDREN 
 
 With many Illustrations. Crown Svo. 2s. 
 Andrewe3 (Bishop). PRECES TRIVATAE. Edited, with Notes, by F. E. Brightman, 
 
 M. A., of Pusey Hove, Oxford. CrottMUva. 6s. 
 Aristophanes. THE FROGS. Translated into English by E. W. Huntingford, M.A.. 
 
 Professor of Classics in Trinity College, Toronto. Croiun %vo. 2s. (xi. 
 Aristotle. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, 
 
 by JOHN BURNET, M.A., Professor of Greek at St. Andrews. Demyiro. ios. 6d. net. 
 Ashton(R.). See Little Blue Books. 
 Atkins (H. Q.). See Oxford Biographic. 
 Atkinson (C. MJ. JEREMY Bl -,.\ 1 H A.M. Crown %vo. is. 
 
 A biography of this great thinker, and an estimate of his work and influence. 
 Atkinson <T. DA A SHORT HISTORY OF ENG1 [SH ARCHITECTURE. With 
 
 - ;oo Illustrations by the Author and others. Fcap.Zvo. y. 6d.net. 
 Aurelius ( Marcus). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Austen (Janet. See Little Library and Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Aves (Ernesti. See B *1 ion Bu mess. 
 
 Bacon (Franci8l. See Little Library and Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Baden-Powell (R. S. S),.Maior-Oneral. THE DOWNFALL OF I'REMPEH. A Diary 
 
 of Life in Ashanti, 1895. With 21 Illustrations and a Map. Third Edition, Large 
 
 Crown ivo. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published
 
 General Literature j 
 
 THE MATABELE CAMPAIGN, 1896. With nearly 100 Illustrations. Fourth and 
 
 Cheaper Edition. Large Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Baker (W. G.), M.A. See Junior Examination Series. 
 Baker (Julian L.), F.I.C., F.C.S. See Books on Business. 
 Balfour (Graham). THE LIFE OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Second Edition. 
 
 Two Volumes. Demy Zvo. 25s. net. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Bally (S. E.). See Commercial Series. 
 Eanks (Elizabeth L.). THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A 'NEWSPAPER GIRL. 
 
 With a Portrait of the Author and her Dog. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Barham (R. H.). See Little Library. 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.). Author of 'Mehalah.' etc. THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONA- 
 PARTE. With over 430 Illustrations in the Text, and 12 Photogravure Plates. Gilt toJ>. 
 
 Large quarto. 36s. 
 THE TRAGEDY OF THE C.ESARS. With numerous Illustrations from Busts Gems, 
 
 Cameos, etc. Fifth Edition. Royal Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. With numerous Illustrations and Initial Letters by Arthur 
 
 J. Gaskix. Second Edition. Crozvn Zvo. Buckram. 6s. 
 A BOOK OF BRITTANY. With numerous Illustrations. Crozvn Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Uniform in scope and size with Mr. Baring-Gould's well-known books on Devon, Cornwall, 
 
 and Dartmoor. 
 OLD ENGLISH FAIRY TALES. With numerous Illustrations by F. D. Bedford. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown Zvo. Buckram. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 THE VICAR OF MORWENSTOW: A Biography. A new and Revised Edition. With 
 
 a Portrait. Crozvn Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 A completely new edition of the well-known biography of R. S. Hawker. 
 DARTMOOR: A Descriptive and Historical Sketch. With Plans and numerous Illustra- 
 tions. Crozvn Zvo. 6s. 
 THE BOOK OF THE WEST. With numerous Illustrations. Two volumes. Vol. 1. Devon. 
 
 Second Edition. Vol. II. Cornwall. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. each. 
 A BOOK OF NORTH WALES. With numerous Illustrations. Crozvn Zvo. 6s. 
 
 This book is uniform with Mr. Baring-Gould's books on Devon, Dartmoor, and Brittany. 
 *A BOOK OF SOUTH WALKS. With many Illustrations. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 A BOOK OF GHOSTS. With 8 Illustrations by D. Murray Smith. Second Edilion. 
 
 Crozvn Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 OLD COUNTRY LIFE. With 67 Illustrations. Fifth Edition. Large Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 ♦AN OLD ENGLISH HOME. With numerous Plans and Illustrations. Cr. Zvo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 ♦YORKSHIRE ODDITIES AND STRANGE EVENTS. Fifth Edition. CrozvnZvo. 
 
 2s. 6d. net. 
 ♦STRANGE SURVIVALS AND SUPERSTITIONS. Third Edition. Cr.Zvo. 2s.6d.net. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG: English Folk Songs with their Traditional 
 
 Melodies. Collected and arranged by S. Baring-Gould and H. F. Shbppard. Demy 
 4?o. 6s. 
 SONGS OF THE WEST: Traditional Ballads and Songs of the West of England, with 
 
 their Melodies. Collected by S. Baring-Gould, M.A., and H. F. Sheppard, M.A. In 
 
 4 Parts. Parts I., II., III., 2s. 6d. each. Part II'., 4s. In One Volume, French 
 
 Morocco, iof. net. ; Roan, 155. 
 
 See also The Little Guides. 
 Barker (Aldred F.), Author of ' Pattern Analysis, 'etc. See Textbooks of Technology. 
 BameS (W. E.), D. D., Hulsaean Professor of Divinity at Cambridge. See Churchman's Bible. 
 Barnett (Mrs. P. A.). See Little Library. 
 Baron (R.R. N.), M.A. FRENCH PROSE COMPOSITION. Crown Zvo. 2s. 6d. Key, 
 
 3s. net. See also Junior School Books. 
 BaiTOn (H. M.), M.A., Wadham College, Oxford. TEXTS FOR SERMONS. With a 
 
 Preface by Canon Scott Holland. Crown Zvo. y ^d. 
 Bastable (C. F.), M.A., Professor of Economics at Trinity College, Dublin. See Social 
 
 Questions Series. 
 BatSOU (Mrs. Stephen). A BOOK OF THE COUNTRY AND THE GARDEN. 
 
 Illustrated by F. Carruthers Gould and A. C. Gould. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. 
 A CONCISE HANDBOOK OF GARDEN FLOWERS. Fcap. Zvo. 3*. 6d.
 
 4 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 ^Batten (Loring W), Ph.D.. S.T.D., Rector of St Church, N<-w York; sometime 
 
 Professor in thePhiladelphia Divinity School. THE HEBREW PROPHET. Crow* too. 
 u, 6d. tn .'. 
 
 BeainaniA. Hulme). Pons ASINORUM; Ok, A GUIDE TO BRIDGE. Stcond 
 Edition. Fcap, 2s. 
 
 Beard (W. S. ). See runioi Examination Series. 
 
 I ISY EXERCISES IX ARITHMETIC Arranged by. Cr. Srv. Without Answers, , 
 
 Beckford (Peten J THOUGHTS ON HUNTING. Edited by J. Otho Pa< 
 
 Illustrated by G. H. Jai.i.and. Second and Cheapir Edition. Demy Svo. 6s. 
 Beckford (William). See Little Library. 
 
 Beeclling(H. C), .M.A., Canon of Westminster. Sec Library of Devotion. 
 Behmen (Jacob). THE SUPERSENSUAL LIFE. Edited by Bernard Holland. 
 
 / i .)/>. Svo. 3.5. 6d. 
 BellOC (Hilaife). PARIS. With Maps and Illustrations. CrOwnZoo. 6s. 
 Bellot (H. H. L.), M.A. THE INNER AND MIDDLE TEMPLE. With numerous 
 
 Illustrations. Crozvn Svo. 6s. net. 
 
 See also L. A. A. Jones. 
 
 Bennett (W. H.), M.A. A PRIMER OF THE BIBLE. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 
 
 2S. 6d. 
 Bennett (W. H.) and Adeney (W. F.). A BIBLICAL INTRODUCTION. Second 
 
 Edition. Crown Svo. js. 6d. 
 Benson (Archbishop). GOD'S BOARD : Communion Addresses. Fcap. Svo. y. 6d. 
 
 net. 
 Benson (A. C). M.A. See Oxford Biographies. 
 Benson (R. M.). THE WAY OF HOLINE.SS: a Devotional Commentary on the I'oth 
 
 Psalm. Crown Svo. $s. 
 Bernard (E. R.), M. A., Canon of Salisbury-- THE ENGLISH SUNDAY. Fcap. Svo. 
 
 it. 6d. 
 Bertouch (Baroness de). THE LIFE OF FATHER IGNATIUS, O.S.B., THE 
 
 MONK OF LLANTHONY. With Illustrations. Demy Svo. ios.6d.net. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Bethune-Baker (J. F.I, M.A., Fellow of Pembroke College, Cambridge. See Handbooks of 
 
 Theology. 
 Bidez (M). Sec Byzantine Texts. 
 Biggs (C. R. D.), D.D. See Churchman's Bible. 
 
 Bindley (T. Herbert), B.D. THE OECUMENICAL DOCUMENTS OF THE FAITH. 
 With Introductions and Notes. Crcnun Svo. 6s. 
 A historical account of the Creeds. 
 
 Binyon (Laurence). THE DEATH 01 ADAM, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 
 
 VO. 3->'. 6d. net. 
 Bimstihgl (Ethel). See Little Books on Art. 
 i- . ir (Robert). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Blake (William). See Illustrated Pocket Library and Little Library. 
 
 Blaxl&Jld (B.). , M.A. See Library of Devotion. 
 
 Bloom (T. Harvey), M.A. SHAKESPEARE'S GARDEN. With Illustrations. Fcap. 
 
 Svo. v. 6d. ; tea tinr. 4s. 6d. mt. 
 Blouet (Henri). See The Beginner's Books, 
 f.oardman (T. H.). See Text Hooks of Technology. 
 Bodley(J. E. C). Author of 'France.' THE CORONATION OF EDWARD VII. Demy 
 
 Svo. 2is.net. By Command of the K 1 
 
 Body (George), D.D. THE SOUL'S PILGRIMAGE: Devotional 1 fro... his 
 
 published and unpublished writings. Selected and arranged by J. II. BURN, B.D. 
 I. R.S. E. Poit&vo. is.6d. 
 Bona (Cardinal). See Library of Devotion. 
 oOOn (F. C). See Commercial Series. 
 BOITOW (George). See Little Library. 
 
 Bos (J. Ritzema). AGRICULTURAL ZOOLOGY. Translated by J. R. Ainsworth 
 
 Davis, M.A. with an Introduction by Eleanor A. Ormkrod, F.E.S. With 155 Illus 
 
 trations. Crown Sv,\ Third Edition. i,s. 6d. 
 Botting (C. G.), B.A. EASY GREEK EXERCISES. <>. 2s. See also Junior 
 
 Examination Series. 
 Boulton(E. S). GEOMETRY ON MODERN LINES. Crown 800. 2s. 
 Bowden (E. M.). THE IMITATION OF BUDDHA : Being Quotations from Buddhist 
 
 Literature for each Day in tb'* Year. /■ Crov-n \(ino. 2s. 6d.
 
 General Literature 5 
 
 BOVle (W.). CHRISTMAS AT THE ZOO. With Verses by W. Boyle and 24 Coloured 
 
 Pictures by H. B. Neilson. Super Royal i6mo. 2s. 
 Brabant (F. G.), M. A. See The Little Guides. 
 
 Brodrick (Mary) and Morton (Anderson). A CONCISE HANDBOOK OF 
 
 EGYPTIAN ARCH.EOLOGY. With many Illustrations. CrtminSvo. 3s. 6d. 
 Brooke (A S.), M.A. SLINGSBY AND SLINGSBY CASTLE. With many Illustrations. 
 
 Crown Svo. ys. 6d. 
 BrOOkS (E. W. ). See Byzantine Tests. 
 Brown (P. H.), Fraser Professor of Ancient (Scottish) History at the University of Edinburgh. 
 
 SCOTLAND IN THE TIME OF QUEEN MARY. Demy Svo. js. 6d. net. 
 Browne (Sir Thomas). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Br0Wnell(C. L.). THE HEART OF JAPAN. Illustrated. Third Edition. Crown Svo. 
 
 6s. ; also Demy Svo. 6d. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Browning (Robert). See Little Library. 
 Buckland (Francis T.). CURIOSITIES OF NATURAL HISTORY. With Illustrations 
 
 by Hakky B. Neilson. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 BllCktOn (A. M.). THE BURDEN OF ENGELA : a Ballad-Epic. Third Edition. 
 
 Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 EAGER HEART : A Mystery Play. Third Edition. Crown Svo. is.net. 
 Budge (E. A. Wallis). THE GODS OF THE EGYPTIANS. With over too Coloured 
 
 Plates and many Illustrations. Two I'olumes. Royal Svo. £3, 3s. net. 
 Bull (Paul), Army Chaplain. GOD AND OUR SOLDIERS. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Bulley (MiSS). See Social Questions Series. 
 Bunyan ( John). THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. Edited, with an Introduction, by C. H. 
 
 Fisth, M.A. With 39 Illustrations by R. Anning Bell. Cr. Svo. 6s. See also Library 
 
 of Devotion and Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Burch (G. J.), M.A., F.R.S. A MANUAL OF ELECTRICAL SCIENCE. With 
 
 numerous Illustrations. Crown Svo. 3s. 
 Burgess (Gelett). GOOPS AND HOW TO BE THEM. With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 Small i,to. 6s. 
 Burke (Edmund). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 
 Bum (A. F..), D.D., Prebendary of Lichfield. See Handbooks of Theology. 
 Burn (J. H.), B.D. See Library of Devotion. 
 Burnand (Sir F. C). RECORDS AND REMINISCENCES, PERSONAL AND 
 
 GENERAL. With many Illustrations. Demy Svo. Two Volumes. Third Edition. 
 
 25s. net. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Bums (Robert), THE POEMS OF. Edited by Andrew Lang and W. A. Craigie. 
 
 With Portrait. Third Edition. Demy Svo, gilt top. 6s. 
 Burnside (W. F.), M.A. OLD TESTAMENT HISTORY FOR USE IN SCHOOLS. 
 
 Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 Burton (Alfred). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Butler (Joseph). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 CaldeCOtt (Alfred), D.D. See Handbooks of Theology. 
 Calderwood (D. S.), Headmaster of the Normal School, Edinburgh. TEST CARDS IN 
 
 EUCLID AND ALGEBRA. In three packets of 40, with Answers. is. each. Or in 
 
 three Books, price 2d., 2d., and 3d. 
 
 Cambridge (Ada) [Mrs. Cross]. THIRTY years IN AUSTRALIA. Demy Svo. 7 s. 6d. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Canning (George). See Little Library. 
 Capey (E. F. H.). See Oxford Biographies. 
 Careless (John). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Carlyle (Thomas). THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. Edited byC. R. L. Fletcher, 
 
 Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford. Three Volumes. Crown Svo. \Ss. 
 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF OLIVER CROMWELL. With an Introduction by 
 
 C. H. Firth, M.A., and Notes and Appendices by Mrs. S. C. Lomas. Three Volumes. 
 
 Demy Svo. iSs. net. 
 Carlyle (R. M. and A. J.), M.A. See Leaders of Religion. 
 
 Chamberlin (Wilbur B.). ordered TO CHINA. CrownSvo. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 
 Channer (C. C.) and Roberts (M. E.). LACE-MAKING in the MIDLANDS, 
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. With 16 full-page Illustrations. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 Chatterton (Thomas). See Methuen's Universal Library.
 
 6 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 ChesterAeld (Lord), THE LETTERS OF, TO HIS SON. Edited, with an Introduction 
 by C Strachey, ■ lCalthbop. Two Volumes. Cr.Zvo. 12s. 
 
 Christian (F. W.) THE CAROLINE ISLANDS. With many Illustrations and Maps. 
 Dotty %vo. \is. 6d. >:ft. 
 
 Cicero. See Classical Translations. 
 
 Clarke (F. A), M.a. See Leader* of Religion, 
 
 Cleather (A. L.) and Crump (B.). RICHARD WAGNER'S MUSIC DRAMAS: 
 
 Interpretations, embodying Wagner's own explanations. In Four Volumes. Fcap ivo. 
 
 3 s. cut. each. 
 
 Vol. i.-Thf Ring of the Nibei 
 
 Vol. if.— Parsifal, Lohengrin, and The Holy Grail. 
 Clinch(G.) See The Little Guides. 
 Cloush (W. T.), Head of the Physical Department East Ham Technical College. 
 
 See junior School Hooks. 
 Coast <W. G), B.A. EXAMINATION PAPERS IN VERGIL. CrotonZvo. is. 
 Cobb (T.). See little Blue Books. 
 CollingwoodtW. G.), M.A. THE LIFE OF JOHN RUSKIN. With Portraits. See, 
 
 and Cheap Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. Also a Popular Edition. Cr. Zvo. is. 6d. net. 
 Collins (W. E.I. M.A, See Churchman's Library. 
 Colonna. HVPNEROTOMACHIA POLIPHiLl UBI HUMANA OMNIA NOW NISI 
 
 SOMN1UM ESSE DOCET ATQUE OBITER PLUR1MA SCITU SANE QUAM 
 
 DIGNA COMMEMORAT. An edition limited to 350 copies on handmade paper. Folio. 
 
 Three Guineas net. 
 Combe (William). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Cook (A. M.), M.A. See E. C. Marchant. 
 Cooke-Taylor (R. W). See Social Questions Series. 
 Corelli (Marie). THE PASSING OF THE GREAT QUEEN : A Tribute to the Noble 
 
 Life of Victoria Retina. St/ta/i +to. is. 
 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. Snt, 4 .v. is. 
 Corkran (Alice). See Little Books 1 m Art. 
 Cotes (Rosemary). DANTE'S GARDEN. With a Frontispiece. Second Edition. J ,,•/>. 
 
 Svo. cloth is. 6d. ; leather, y. 6d. net. 
 BIBLE FLOWERS. With a Frontispiece and Plan. Fcap. Zvo. 2s. 6d.net. 
 Cowley (Abraham). See Little Library. 
 COX (J. Charles). LL.D., F.S.A. See Little Guides. 
 COX (Harold), B.A. See Social Questions Serii s. 
 Crabbe (George). See Little Library. 
 
 Craigie (W. A.). A P R I M E R O F B URNS. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 Craik(MrS.). See Little Library. 
 Crashaw (Richard). See Little Library. 
 Crawford (F. G.). See Marv C. Danson. 
 
 Crouch (W.). BRYAN KING. With a Portrait. Crown .td.net. 
 
 Cruikshank (G.) THE LOVING BALLAD OF LORD BA I EM IN. With u Plate-. 
 
 Crown i6»io. is. 6d. net. 
 From the edition published by C. Tilt, 1811. 
 Crump (B.). See A. L. 1 leather. 
 Cunliffe (F. H. E.), Fellow of All Souls' College, Oxford. THE HISTORY OF 111! 
 
 BOER WAR. With many Illustrations, Plan-, and Portraits. lnivols. Quarto. \$s. 
 
 each. 
 CuttS (E. L.V D. D. See Leaders of Religion. 
 UanielKG. W.V. M K. Sei Leaders ofReligion. 
 Danson (Mary C.) and Crawford (F. G.). FATHERS IN THE FAITH Small Zvo. 
 
 u. 6d. 
 Dante. LA COMMEDLA DI DANTE. The Italian Text edited by Paget Toynbee, M.A. , 
 
 D.Litt. Crown Zi>o. 6s. See also Paget Toynbee, Little Library, and Methuen's Universal 
 Library. 
 Darley (George). See Little Library. 
 
 Davenport (Cyril). See Connoisseur's Library and Little Books on Art. 
 Dawson (A. J.). MOROCCO. Being a bundle of jottings, notes, impressions, tales, 
 
 and tributes. With many Illustrations. Demy Zvo. zos.6d.net. 
 Deane (A. C). See Little Library. 
 
 Delbos(LeonX THE Ml TRIC SYSTEM. CrvumBm. is. 
 Demosthenes: THE OLYNTHIACS AND PHILIPPICS. Translated upon a new 
 
 principle by Otiio Holland Crown Svo. is. 64.
 
 General Literature 7 
 
 Demosthenes. AGAINST CONON AND CALLICLES. Edited with Notes and 
 
 Vocabulary, by F. Darwin Swift, M.A. Pea/. Svo. 2.5. 
 Dickens (Cilarles). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Dickinson (Emily). POEMS. First Series. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 Dickinson (G. L.), M.A., Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. THE GREEK VIEW 
 
 OF LIFE. Third Edition. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 DiCkSOn (H. N.), F.R.S.E., F.R.Met. Soc. METEOROLOGY. Illustrated. Crown. 
 
 Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 Dilke (Lady). See Social Questions Series. 
 Dillon (Edward). See Connoisseur's Library. 
 DitChfield (P. H.), M.A., F.S.A. ENGLISH VILLAGES. Illustrated. Crown Svo. 
 
 ?s. 6d. net. 
 THE STORY OF OUR ENGLISH TOWNS. With an Introduction by Augustus Jesschf, 
 
 D.D. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 OLD ENGLISH CUSTOMS: Extant at the Present Time. An Account of Local Observ- 
 ances, Festival Customs, and Ancient Ceremonies yet Surviving in Great Britain. Crown 
 
 Svo. 6s. 
 Dixon (W. M.), M.A. A PRIMER OF TENNYSON. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 
 
 2S. 6d. 
 ENGLISH POETRY FROM BLAKE TO BROWNING. Second Edition. Croxvn 
 
 Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 Dole N. H.). FAMOUS COMPOSERS. With Portraits. Two Volumes. Demy Svo. 12s. 
 
 net. 
 Do Wden (J.), D.D., Lord Bishop of Edinburgh. See Churchman's Library. 
 Drage (G. ) See Books on Business. 
 Driver (S. R.), D.D., Canon of Christ Church, Regius Professor of Hebrew in the University 
 
 of Oxford. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH THE OLD TESTA- 
 
 MENT. Crown Svo. 6s. See also Westminster Commentaries. 
 DryhUTSt (A. R.). See Little Books on Art. 
 DugUid (Charles), City Editor of the Morning- Post, Author of the 'Story of the Stock 
 
 Exchange,' etc. See Books on Business. 
 Duncan (S. J.) (Mrs. Cotes), Author of 'A Voyage of Consolation.' ON THE OTHER 
 
 SIDE OF THE LATCH. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Dunn (J. T.), D.Sc, and MundeUa(V. A.). GENERAL ELEMENTARY SCIENCE. 
 
 With 114 Illustrations. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 Dunstan (A. E.), B.Sc. . Head of the Chemical Department, East Ham Technical College. 
 
 See Junior School Books. 
 'Durham (The Earl Of). A REPORT ON CANADA. With an Introductory Note. 
 
 De»iy Svo. 4J. 6«'. net. 
 Dutt(W. A.). A POPULAR GUIDE TO NORFOLK. Medium Svo. 6d. net. 
 THE NORFOLK BROADS. With coloured and other Illustrations by Frank Southgate. 
 
 Large Demy Svo. 21s. net. See also The Little Guides. 
 Earle(John), Bishop of Salisbury. MICROCOSMOGRAPHE, or A PIECE OF THE 
 
 WORLD DISCOVERED ; in Essayes and Characters. Post i6mo. 2s net. 
 Reprinted from the Sixth Edition published by Robert Allot in 1633. 
 Edwards (Clement). See Social Questions Series. 
 Edwards (W. DOUglaS). See Commercial Series. 
 'Edwards (Betham). HOME LIFE IN FRANCE. With many Illustrations. 
 
 Demy Svo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 Egan (Pierce). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Egerton(H. E.), M.A. A HISTORY OF BRITISH COLONIAL POLICY. Demy Svo. 
 
 12s. 6d. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Ellaby (C. G.). See The Little Guides. 
 Ellerton (F. G.). See S. J. Stone. 
 EllWOOd (Thomas), THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF. Edited by C. G. Ckimf, 
 
 M.A. Crotvn Svo. 6s. 
 Engel (E.). A HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE: From its Beginning to 
 
 Tennyson. Translated from the German. Demy Svo. ys. 6d. net. 
 FaiTbrother (W. H.), M.A. THE PHILOSOPHY OF T. H. GREEN. Second Edition. 
 
 Crown Svo. y. 6d. 
 FELISSA ; OR, THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF A KITTEN OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 With 12 Coloured Plates. Post 161110. 2s. 6d. net. (5JX3J). 
 From the edition published by J. Harris, 1811.
 
 8 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 Fairer (Reginald). THE GARDEN OF ASIA. Second Edition. CrovmBvt. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also publish 
 
 Ferrler (Susan). See Utile Library. 
 
 Fidler (T. Claxtom, M.Inst. C.E., Professor of Engineering, University College, Dundee 
 
 in the University of St. Andrews. See Books en Hum: 
 Fielding (HeEry). Sec Melhuen's I niversal Library. 
 Finn (S. W.), M.A. See Junior Examinati 
 Firth (C. H.), M.A. CROMWELL'S ARMY: A History of the English Soldier during the 
 
 Civil Wars, the Commonwealth, and the Protectorate. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Fisher (O. W.), M.A. ANNALS OK SHREWSBURY S< HOOL with num. 
 
 Illustrations. PemvZvo. jos. 6d. 
 FitzGerald (Edward). THE RUB'AIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYXM. Printed from the 
 
 Fifth and last Edition. With a Commentary by Mr>. Stbphxn BATSON, and a Biography 
 
 of Omar by E. D. Ross. Crown Zvo. 6s. See also Miniature Library. 
 Flecker (W. H.), M.A., D.C.L., Headmaster of the Dean Close School', Cheltenham. . 111. 
 
 STUDENT'S PRAYER BOOK. Part i. Morning and Evening Prayer and Litany. 
 
 With an Introduction and Notes. Crown &z>o. us. 6 J. 
 FlUX (A W.), M.A., William Dow Professor of Political Economy in M'Gill University, 
 
 Montreal : sometime Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, and formerly Stanlcy- 
 
 Jevons Professor of Political Economy in the Owens Coll., Manchester. ECONOMIC 
 
 PRINCIPLES. DemyZvo. 7s.6d.tut. 
 Fortescue (Mrs. 0.) See Little Books on Art 
 
 Fraser (David). A MODERN CAMPAIGN; OR, WAR AND WIRELESS TELE- 
 GRAPHY IN THE FAR EAST. Illustrated. Cro-.rnZvo. 6s. 
 Fraser (J. F.). ROUND THE WORLD ON A WHEEL With too Illustrations. 
 
 Third Edition Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 French (W.). See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Freudenreich (Ed. von). DAIRY BACTERIOLOGY. A Short Manual for the Use 
 
 of Students. Translated by J. R. Ainsworth Davis, M.A. Second Edition. Revised. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 2S. 6d. 
 Fulford(H. WA M.A. See Churchman's Bible. 
 C. G., and F. C. G. JOHN BULL'S ADVENTURES IN THE FISCAL Wl 
 
 LAND. By Charles Geake. With 46 Illustrations by E. Cakrutiiers Gould. 
 
 Second Edition. CrotvnZvo. is. 6d. net. 
 Gallichan (W. M.). See The Little Guides. 
 GambadO (Geoffrey, Esq.). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Gaskell(MrS.). Sec Little Library. 
 
 Gasquet, the Right Rev. Abbot, O.S.B. See Antiquary's Books. 
 George (H. B.), M.A., Fellow of New College, Oxfoi BATTLES OF ENGLISH 
 
 HISTORY, with numerous Plans. Fourth Edition. Revised, with a new Chap: r 
 
 including the South African War. CrownSvo. 6s. 
 A HISTORICAL GEOGB \IMIY OK THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Crown Boo. 3s. 6V. 
 Gibbins (H. de B.), Litt.D., M.A INDUSTRY IN I N'GLAND : HISTORICAL 
 
 OUTLINES. With 5 Maps. Third Edition. DemyBvo. ms. o<i. 
 A COM PAN ION ( ! E RM \ N GR A M M A R. Crown Zvo. is. bd. 
 THE INDUSTRIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. Tenth Edition. Revised. With 
 
 Maps and Plans. Crown Zi'O. -;r. 
 ENGLISH SOCIAL REFORMERS. Second Edition. CrownZvo. as.6d. 
 
 Sec also Commercial Series and Social Questions Seri 
 
 Gibbon (Edward). THE limine and FALL OF r/H] ROMAN EMPIRE. 
 
 A New Edition, edited wiih Not< Appendices, and Maps, by I. !!• Bury, M.A., Litt.D., 
 
 Regius Professor of Gi eek at Cambridge. In Seven 1 1 iumes. I \-»iy Zvo. Gilt top, Ss. 6d. 
 
 each. Also, Crown Zvo. 6s. each. 
 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINl 1 Sited, with an Introduction and Notes, 
 
 by G. Birkbeck Hn 1 , I L. I>. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 See also Methuen's Universal Libn 
 Gibson (E. C. S.), D.D., Vicar of Leeds. Sec Westminster Commentaries, Handbooks of 
 
 Theology, and Oxford Biographies. 
 Gilbert (A. R). See Little I Art. 
 
 Godfrey (Elizabeth). A BOOK 01 REMEMBRANCE. Fcap.Zvo. 11.6d.net. 
 Godley <A. D.t, M.A., Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford. L\ KA I R1V0LA. Third 
 
 Edition. It up. Zto. ss. 6d. 
 VERSES TO ORDER. Se '■■ Sr-o. ?s.6d. 
 
 SECOND STRINGS. Fcap.Zvo. •-■*. fid.
 
 General Literature g 
 
 Goldsmith (Oliver), the vicar of wakefield. with 24 cioured Plates by 
 
 T. Rowlandson. Royal Zvo. One Guinea net. 
 Reprinted from the edition ofi8i7. Also Fcap. 32)110. With 10 Plates in Photogravure 
 
 by Tony Johannot. Leather, 2s. 6d. net. See also Illustrated Pocket Librar- and 
 
 Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Goudge(H. L.),M. A., Principal of Wells Theological College. See Westminster Comment; ries. 
 Graham (P. Anderson). See Social Questions Series. 
 
 Granger (F. S.), M. A., Litt.D. PSYCHOLOGY. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. ■zs. 6d. 
 THE SOUL OF A CHRISTIAN. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Gray (E. M'Queen). GERMAN PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION. Crown 
 
 Zvo. is. 6d. 
 Gray (P. L.h B.Sc, formerly Lecturer in Physics in Mason University College, Birmingham. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF MAGNETISM AND ELECTRICITY: an Elementary Text- 
 Book. With 1S1 Diagrams. Crown Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 Green (G. BllCklandl, M. A. , Assistant Masterat Edinburgh Academy, late Fellow of St. John's 
 
 College, Oxon. NOTES ON GREEK AND LATIN SYNTAX. Crmvn&vo. 3s. 6d. 
 Green (E. T.), M.A. See Churchman's Library. 
 Greenidge (A. H. J.), M.A. A HISTORY OF ROME: During the Later Republic and 
 
 the Early Principate. In Six Volumes. DemyZvo. Vol. I. (133-104 B.c ). 10s.6d.net. 
 Greenwell (Dora). See Miniature Library. 
 Gregory (R. A.) THE VAULT OF HEAVEN. A Popular Introduction to Astronomy. 
 
 With numerous Illustrations. Crown Zvo. 2s. 6d. 
 Gregory (Miss E. C). See Library of Devotion. 
 Greville Minor. A MODERN JOURNAL. Edited by J. A. Spender. Crown Zvo. 
 
 V. 6d. net. 
 Grinling (C. H.). A HISTORY OF THE GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY, 1045.95. 
 
 With Illustrations. Revised, with an additional chapter. DemyZvo. 10s. 6d. 
 Gmbb (H- C). See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Guiney (Louisa I.). HURRELL FROUDE: Memoranda and Comments. Illustrated. 
 
 Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Gnvynn(M. L.). A BIRTHDAY BOOK. Royal Zvo. 12s. 
 
 Hackett ( John), b.d. a history of the orthodox church of Cyprus. 
 
 With Maps and Illustrations. Demy Zvo. 15s. net. 
 Haddon(A. C), Sc.D.,F.R.S. HEAD-HUNTERS, BLACK, WHITE, AND BROUN. 
 
 With many Illustrations and a Map. Demy Zvo. 15s. 
 Hadtield (R. A.). See Social Questions Series. 
 Hall (R. N.) and Neal (W. G.). THE ANCIENT RUINS OF RHODESIA. Witl. 
 
 numerous Illustrations. Second Edition, revised. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Hall (R. N.). GREAT ZIMBABWE. With numerous Plans and Illustrations. Royal Zvo. 
 
 21s. net. 
 Hamilton (F. J.), D.D. See Byzantine Texts. 
 
 Hammond (J. L.). CHARLES JAMES FOX : A Biographical Study. DemyZvo. 10s. 6d. 
 Hannay (D.). A SHORT HISTORY OF THE ROYAL NAVY, From Earlv 
 
 Times to the Present Day. Illustrated. Two Volumes. Demy Zvo. 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 Vol. I. 1200-168S. 
 Hannay (James O.t, M.A. THE SPIRIT and ORIGIN OF CHRISTIAN 
 
 MONASTICISM. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE WISDOM OF THE DESERT. Crown Zvo. v. 1 I. net. 
 
 Hare, (A. T.), M.A. THE CONSTRUCTION OF LARGE INDUCTION COIL>. 
 With numerous Diagrams. Demy Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Harrison (Clifford). READING AND READERS. Fcap. Zvo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Hawthorne (Nathaniel). See Little Library. 
 
 HEALTH, WEALTH AND WISDOM. Crown Zvo. is. net. 
 
 Heath (Frank R.). See The Little Guides. 
 
 Heath (Dudley). See Connoisseur's Library. 
 
 HellO (Ernest). STUDIES IN SAINTSHIP. Translated from the French by V. M. 
 Crawford. Fcap Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Henderson (B. W.), Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. THE LIFE AND PRINCIPATE 
 OF THE EMHEROR NERO. With Illustrations. Demy Zvo. ios. 6d. net. 
 
 Henderson (T. F.). See Little Library and Oxford Biographies. 
 
 Henley (W. E.). ENGLISH LYRICS. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 2s.6d.net. 
 
 Henley (W. E.) and Whibley (C). A BOOK OF ENGLISH PROSE. Crown Zvo. 
 Buckram, gilt top. 6s. 
 
 Henson (H. H.), B.D., Canon of Westminster. APOSTOLIC CHRISTIANITY: As Illus- 
 trated by the Epistles of St. Paul to the Corinthians. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A 2
 
 io Messrs. Mkthuen's CATALOGUE 
 
 HT wi) LEAVEN ! Historical and Sociai 6s. 
 
 DIS< IPLINE AND LAW. Ecnf. too. 
 Herbert (George i. n. 
 
 Herbert of Cherbury (Lord*. Sec Miniature Library. 
 Hcwins (W. A. S.i, l'..A. ENGLISH TRADE AM" FINANCE IN I UK SEVEN- 
 
 rEENTH CENTURY. Croumtoo, is. 6d. 
 Heywood (W.). PALIO AND PONTE: \ B of Tuscan Games. Illustrated. 
 
 Royal Svo. iis.net. 
 Hilbert |T.). See Little Blue Bu 
 Hill (Clare), Registered Teacher to the City and Guilds of London Institute. Sec Textbooks 
 
 chnofogy. 
 Hill (Henry*,' B.A., Headmaster of the Boy's High School, Worcester, Cape Colony. A 
 
 SOUTH AFRICAN ARITHMETIC Crovmtoo. is. 6d. 
 
 This book has been specially written for use in South African Bel ■ 
 
 Hillegas (Howard C.). WITH THE BOER FORCES. With 24 Illustrations. Second 
 
 HobhOUSe (Emily). THE BRUNT OF THE WAR. With Map and Illustrations. 
 
 Crown Zl'O. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Hobhouse (L. T.I. Fellow of C.C.C., Oxford. THE THEORY OF KNOW I. Fix. I . 
 
 Demy 8:<j. 10s. 6tL net. 
 Hobsoh (J. A.I, MA. INTERNATIONAL TRADE: A Study of Economic Principles. 
 
 Croivn 8r'c>. 26'. n./. net. See also Social Questions Series, 
 H0dgkin(T.», D.C.I . See Leaders of Religion. 
 Hogg (Thomas Jefferson). SHELLEY AT OXFORD. With an Introduction by 
 
 R. A. S tkka ifeild. Fcap. 8vo. is. net. 
 Holden-Stone (G. del See Books on Bus less. 
 Holdich (Sir T. H.I, K.C.I. K. THE INDIAN BORDERLAND: being a Pei 
 
 Record of Twenty Years. Illustrated. Demy too. ios. fd. net. 
 Holdsworth (W. S.I, M.A. A HISTORY OF ENGLISH LAW, U Two VoUtnus. 
 
 Vol. I. Demy too. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Holyoake (G. J. 1. See Social Questions Series. 
 Hoppner. See Little Galleries. 
 Horace. See Classical Translations. 
 Horsburgh (E. L. S.), M.A. WATERLOO: A Narrative and Criticism. With Plans. 
 
 Second Edition. Crvwntoo. 5s. See also Oxford Biographic 
 Horth (A. C). , Master of Art and Manual Training Departments, Roan School, Greenwich. 
 
 See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Horton (R. F.l, D.D. See Leaders of Religion. 
 Hosie (Alexander). MANCHURIA with Illustrations and a Map. Steond Edition. 
 
 Demy too. 7s. 6d. net. 
 How (F. D.). SIX GREAT SCHOOLMASTERS. With Portraits and Illustrations. 
 
 Dewy too. 74-. 6d. 
 Howell (G.I. See Social Qui ries. 
 
 Hudson (Robert). MEMORIALS OF A WARWICKSHIRE VII l \(.E. With many 
 
 Illustrations. Demy too. ist.net. 
 Hughes (C. E.l. THE PRAISE OF SHAKESPEARE. An English Anthology. With 
 
 a Preface by Sidney Lee. Demy l-'o. 3$. M. net. 
 Hughes (Thomas). TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS. With an Introduction and 
 
 Notes by Vj Rendu. i,. r. Royal \2n10. as.6d.no/. 
 
 Hutchinson (Horace G.I. THE NEW FOREST. Described by. Illustrated in colour 
 
 with 50 Pictures by Walter TvNDALEand 4 by Miss Lucy Kemp Welch. Large Demy 
 
 ton. CIS. net. 
 
 HuttOnfA. W.), M.A. See Leaders of Religion. 
 
 Hutton (R. Hi- S I rs of Religion. 
 
 Hutton (W. H.I. M.A. THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. With Portraits. 
 Second Edition. Crown too. $*. See also I. Religion. 
 
 HyettlF.A.l. A SHORT HISTORY Ol FLORENCE. Dt . 6d. net. 
 
 Ibsen (Henrik). BRAND. A Drama. 1 ranslated by William Wilson. Third Edition. 
 Croivn too. u Sd. 
 
 Inge (W. R.I, M. V, Fellov and Tutor of Hertford College, Oxford. CHRIS I I \ N MYS- 
 TICISM. Th n Lectures for 1859. Demy Zvo. 12s.6d.net. See also Library of 
 Devotion. 
 
 Innes (A. D.). M \. \ HISTORY OF THE BRITISH IN INDIA. With Maps and 
 Plans. Croivn too. 6s.
 
 General Literature ii 
 
 Jackson (S.), If. A. See Commercial Series. 
 
 Jackson (F. Hamilton). See The Little Guides. 
 
 Jacob (F.), M.A. See Junior Examination Series. 
 
 Jeans (J. Stephen). See Social Questions Series. 
 
 Jeffreys (D. Gwyn). DOLLY'S THEATRICALS. Described and Illustrated with 24 
 
 Coloured Pictures. Super Royal \6tno. 2s. 6d. 
 JenkS (E.), M.A., Reader of Law in the University of Oxford. ENGLISH LOCAL 
 
 GOVERNMENT. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 JeSSOPP (Augustus), D.D. See Leaders of Religion. 
 Jevons(F.B-), M.A., Litt.D., Principal of Hatfield Hall, Durham. See Churchman's Library 
 
 and Handbooks of Theology. 
 Johnson (Mrs. Barhami: WILLIAM BODHAM DONNE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 With Illustrations. Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Johnston (Sir H..H.K K.C.B. BRITISH CENTRAL AFRICA. With nearly 200 
 
 Illustrations and Six Maps. Second Edition. Crown ^io. 18s.net. 
 Jones (H.). See Commercial Series. 
 
 Jones (L. A. Atherley), K.C.. M.P., and Bellot (Hugh H. L.). THE MINERS' 
 
 GUIDE TO THE COAL MINES' REGULATION ACTS. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 Jonson (Ben). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 
 Julian (Lady) of Norwich. REVELATIONS OF DIVINE LOVE. Edited by Grace 
 
 Warrack. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 Juvenal. See Classical Translations. 
 Kaufmann (M.). See Social Questions Series. 
 
 Keating (J. F.), D.D. THE AGAPE AND THE EUCHARIST. Crown Svo. 3 i. 6d. 
 Keats (John). THE POEMS OF. Edited with Introduction and Notes by E. deSelhv 
 court, M.A. Demy Svo. ys. 6d. net. See also Little Library and Methuen's Universal 
 Librarv. 
 Keble (John). THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. With an Introduction and Notes by W. 
 L'iCK, D.D., Warden of Keble College. Illustrated by R. Anning Bell. Third Edition. 
 Fcap. Svo. 3^. 6d._; padded morocco, $s. See also Library of Devotion. 
 KeiupiS (Thomas A). THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. With an Introduction by Dean 
 Fakkar. Illustrated by C. M. Gere. Third Edition. Fcap. Svo. y.td.; padded mor- 
 occo, 5-r. See also Library of Devotion and Methuen's L'niversal Library. 
 Also Translated by C. Bigg, D.D. Crown Svo. $s. 6d. 
 Kennedy (James HOUghtOnt, D.D., Assistant Lecturer in Divinity in the University of 
 Dublin. ST. PAUL'S SECOND AND THIRD EPISTLES TO THE CORIN- 
 THIANS. With Introduction, Dissertations and Notes. CrownSvo. 6s. 
 Kestell (J. D.). THROUGH SHOT AND FLAME : Being the Adventures and Experi- 
 ences of J. D. Kestell, Chaplain to General Christian de Wet. Cro-.vn Svo. 6s. 
 Kimmins (C. W.I. MA. THE CHEMISTRY OF LIFE AND HEALTH. Illustrated. 
 
 Crozt'K Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 Kinglake (A. W.>. See Little Library. 
 
 Kipling (Rudyard). BARRACK -ROOM BALLADS. 73rd Thousand. Cr. Svo. 
 Twentieth Edition. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 THE SEVEN SEAS. 62nd Thousand. Ninth Edition. Crown Svo, gilt top, 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 THE FIVE NATIONS. 41st Thousand. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. Sixteenth Edition. Crown Svo. Buckram. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also p lblished. 
 Knowling (R. J.), M.A., Professor of New Testament Exegesis at King's College, London. 
 
 See Westminster Commentaries. 
 Lamb (Charles and Mary), THE WORKS OF. Edited by E. V. Lucas. With 
 
 Numerous Illustrations. In Seven Volumes. Demy Svo. 7s. 6d. each. 
 THE ESSAYS OF ELIA. With over 100 Illustrations by A. Garth Jones, and an Intro- 
 duction by E. V. Lucas. Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. 
 THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS: An 1805 Book for Children. Illustrated by 
 William Mulready. A new edition, in facsimile, edited by E. V. Luca=. is. 6d. 
 See also Little Library. 
 Lambert (F. A. H.). See The Little Guides. 
 LambrOS (Professor). See Byzantine Texts. 
 
 Lane-Poole (Stanley). A HISTORY OF EGYPT IN THE MIDDLE AGES. Fully 
 Illustrated. Crown Svo. 6s.
 
 12 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 Langbridge (F.) M a. BALI kDS 01 CHE BJ iVE: Poems of Chivalry. Lnteiprise, 
 
 Courage, and Constancy. Secomi Edition. Crown Zvo. is. 6d. 
 Law (William). See Library of Devotion. 
 Leach (Henry). THE DUKE Or DEVONSHIRE. A Biography. With :-■ Illustrations. 
 
 DemyZzo. 12s. 6d. net. 
 A Colonial Editi in is also published. 
 'Lee(Captain L. Melville.'. A HIS rORY OF POLICE IN ENGLAND. CrownSvo. 
 
 Leigh (PercivaK Till COMK ENGLISH GRAMMAR. Embellished with upwards of 
 
 50 characteristic Illustrations by I H i Li bch. Postibmo. is. 6d. net. 
 LeweB(V.B.), M.A. AIR AND WATER Illustrated. Crown 6l>0. is. 6d. 
 
 Lisle (Fortunee de). See Little Books on Art. 
 
 Littlehales |H.). See Antiquary's Books. 
 
 Lock(Walter), D.D., Warden of Keble College. ST. PAUL, THE MASTER-BUILDER. 
 
 Second Edition. Crvwn&VO. 3s. 6d. Sec also Leaders of Religion. 
 Locke (John). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Locker (F.). See Little Library. 
 
 LongfellOW (H. W.) See Little Library. 
 
 Lorimer (George Horace). LETTERS FROM A SELF-MAUL MERCHANT IO 
 
 HIS SON'. Twelfth Edition. Crozvn&ro. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 OLD GORGON GRAHAM. Second Edition. Crown Sro. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Lover (Samuel). Sec Illustrated Pocket Li' 
 E. V. L. and C. L. G. ENGLAND DAY B1 DAY: Or, The Englishman's Handbook to 
 
 F-fnciency. Illustrated bj I • Fourth Edition. Eca/>. 410. U, net. 
 
 A burlesque Year-Book and Almanai . 
 LUCaS (E. V.). THE LIFE OF CH VRLES LAMB. With numerous Portraits and Illus- 
 trations. Two I'ots. DcmyZyo. zn. net. 
 Lucian. See Classical Translations. 
 Lyde (L. W.), M.A. See Commercial Series. 
 Lydon (Noel S.). See funior School Books. 
 
 LytteltonfHon. Mrs. A.). WOMEN AND THEIR WORK. CroumSvo. is. td. 
 M. M. HOW TO DRESS AND WHAT I W] VR. I ■ :rnZvo, is. net. 
 Macaulay(Lord). CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Edited by I . C. M l - 
 
 tactic, M.A. Three Volumes. Cr.Zvo. iZs. 
 The only edition of this book completely annotated. 
 M'Allen(J. E. B.>, M.A. See Commercial Series. 
 MacCulloch (J. A.). See Churchman's Library. 
 MacCunn(F.). See Leaders of Religion. 
 McDermott. (E. R.t, Editor of the Railway News, City Editor ol the Daily News, bee 
 
 Books on Business. 
 M'Dowall (A. S.). See Oxford Biographies. 
 Mackay (A. M.). Sec Churchman s Library. 
 
 Magnus (Laurie), M.A. A. PRIMER OF WORDSWORTH. 1 -. f. 
 
 MaSaffy (J. P.). Litt.D. A HISTORY OF rHE EGYPT "I Mil PTOLEMH 
 
 Fully Illustrated. C>ozvnZvo. 6s. 
 Maitland(F. W. ) LL.D., Downing Professor of the Laws of England in tbi 
 
 Cambridge. CANON LAW INENGLAND 
 Malden(H. E), M.A ENGLISH RECORDS. A Companion to the Histoiyol 
 
 THE*ENGL'iSH" CITIZEN: HIS RIGHTS AND DUTIES. ( is. (td, 
 
 Marchant (E. C), M.A., Fellow of Pel rhouse, Car *. GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Second Edition. < 8V0. 3* . 6d. __. 
 
 Marchant (E. C. >, M.A. , and Cook (A.M.), M.A. PASSAGES FOR UNSE] - l FAN •• 
 
 LATION. Second Edition. Crown ivo. v. o</. 
 Marlowe (Christopher). Sec Methuen's Univer al Library. 
 Marr (J. E.\ F.R.S., Fellow of St John's College, Cambnd e. THE < UN I 111' 
 
 STUDY OF SCENERY. Second Edition. Illustrated. 1 00. os. 
 
 \GRICU1 n I IL GEOLOGY. With numerous Illustrations. CrenvnZvo. os. 
 Marvell (Andrew). See Little Library. 
 MaskelHA.) See Connoisseur's Library. 
 Mason(A. J.t. D.D. See Leaders of Religion. 
 
 Massee (George). THE EVOLUTION 01 PI \M FIFE: Lowei Forms. With 
 nations. CrowuBvo. as.6d.
 
 General Literature 13 
 
 Masterman(C.F. G.), M.A.TENNYSON AS A RELIGIOUS TEACHER. Cr.tvo. -6s. 
 
 May (PMl). THE PHIL MAY ALBUM. Second Edition. A to. is.net. 
 
 MellOWS (Emma S.). A SHORT STORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Crown %vo. 
 
 3$. 6d. 
 MichelKE. B). THE ART AND PRACTICE OF HAWKING. With 3 Photogravures 
 
 by G.-E. Lodge, and other Illustrations. Demy %vo. ios. 6d. 
 -Millais (J. G.). THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF SIR JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS, 
 
 President of the Royal Academy. With 319 Illustrations, of which 9 are in Photogravure, 
 
 New Edition. Demy Bto. js. id. net. 
 Millais (Sir John Everett). See Little Galleries. 
 MilliS(C. T.), M.I.M.E., Principal of the Borough Polytechnic College. See Textbook" of 
 
 Technology. 
 Millie (J. G.), M. A. A HISTORY OF ROMAN EGYPT. Fully Illustrated. Crownivo, 6s. 
 MiltOll, John, THE POEMS OF, BOTH ENGLISH AND LATIN, Compos'd at several 
 
 times. Printed by his true Copies. 
 The Songswere set in Musick by Mr. Henry Lawes, Gentleman of the Kings Chappel, 
 
 and one of His Majesties Private Musick. 
 Printed and publish'd according to Order. 
 Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Mosei.ey, and are to be sold at the signe of the 
 
 Princes Armes in Pauls Churchyard, 1645. 
 See also Little Library and Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Minchin (H. C), M.A. See Little Galleries. 
 Mitchell (P. Chalmers), M. A. OUTLINES OF BIOLOGY. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 Crown 8?'o. 6s. 
 A text-book designed to cover the Schedule issued by the Royal College of Physicians 
 
 and Surgeons. 
 'Moil (A-).' See Books on Business. 
 Moir (D. M.). See Little Library. 
 Moore (H. E.). See Social Questions Series. 
 Moran (Clarence G.). See Books on Business. 
 More (Sir Thomas). See Methuen's Universal Library. 
 MorfiU (W. R.), Oriel College, Oxford. A HISTORY OF RUSSIA FROM PETER 
 
 THE GREAT TO ALEXANDER II. With Maps and Plans. CrvwhSvo. V . td. 
 Morich(R. J.), late of CI' ton College. See School Examination Series. 
 Morris (J. E.). See The Little Guides. 
 Morton (Mi .8 Anderson). See Miss Brodrick. 
 
 M'OUle (H. C. G.), D.D.,Lord Bishop of Durham. See Leaders of Religion. 
 Muir (M. M. Pattison), M.A. THE CHEMISTRY OF FIRF. The Elementary 
 
 Principles of Chemistry. Illustrated. Crown Z~'o. ?.s. 6d. 
 Mundella (V. A.), M.A. See J. T. Dunn. 
 Munro (R.), LL D. See The Antiquary's Books. 
 Naval Officer (A). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Neal (W. G). See R. N. Hall. 
 
 Newman (J. H.) and Others. See Library of Devotion. 
 NiCholS (J. B. B.). See Little Library. 
 
 NiCklin(T-), M. A. EXAMINATION PAPERS IN THUCYDIDES. Crown&vo. 2s. 
 Nimrod. See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 
 Northcote (James), R.A. the conversations of james northcote, 
 
 R.A., AND JAMES WARD. Edited by Ernest Fletcher. With many Portraits. 
 Demy Z-jo 10s. 6d. 
 -Norway (A. H.), Author of 'Highways and Byways in Devon and Cornwall.' NAPLES. 
 With 24 Coloured Illustrations by Maurice Greiffenhagen. A New Edition. Crown 
 
 Novalis. ' THE DISCIPLES AT SAIS AND OTHER FRAGMENTS. Edited by Miss 
 Una Birch. Fcap. %vo. y 6d. 
 
 Oliphant (Mrs.). See Leaders of Religion. 
 
 Oman <C. W. C), M.A., Fellow of All Souls', Oxford. A HISTORY OF THE ART OF 
 WAR. Vol. 11.: The Middle Ages, from the Fourth to the Fourteenth Century. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Zvo. zos. 6d net. 
 
 Ottley (R. L.), D.D., Professor of Pastoral Theology at Oxford and Canon of Christ Church. 
 See Handbooks of Theology and Leaders of Religion. 
 
 Owen (Douglas), Barrister-at-Law, Secretary to the Alliance Marine and General Assurance 
 Company. See Books or. Business. 
 
 Oxford (M. N.), of Guy's Hospital. A HANDBOOK OF NURSING. Second Edition. 
 Crown Zvo. 3*. 6d,
 
 i4 Messrs! Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 PakeB (W. C. 0.). THE SCIENCE OF HYGIENE. With numerous Illustrations. Demy 
 
 Palmer (Frederick). WITH KUROKI IN MANCHUPIA With many Illustrations. 
 Second Edition, Demy Zvo. is. 6d. tiff. 
 A Colonial Edition is ako published. 
 Parker (Gilbert). A LOVER'S DIARY: SONGS IN SEQUENCE, leaf,. Zvo. 5 r. 
 r-.trklnson (John). PARADISI IN SOLE I'ARADLSUS TKRRISTKIS, OR A 
 GARDEN OF ALL SORTS OF PI.EASAN C FLOWERS. Folio. £5, 5*. tit.'. 
 Also an Edition uf ro copies on Japanese vellum Ten Guintas net. 
 
 Parmenter (John), in I.IO-TROPES, OR NEW POSIES 1 OK SUNDIALS, 1625. 
 
 I ditad by rJ RCIVAL LaNDON. Quarto, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Parmentier (Prof. Leon). See Byzantine text 
 
 Pascal. See Library of Devotion. 
 
 Paston (George). SOCIAL caricatures of the eighteenth CENTURY. 
 
 Imperial Quarto. £2, 12s. 6d. net. See also Little Books on Art and Illustrated Pocket 
 
 Library. 
 Paterson (W. R.)(Benjamin Swift). LI FE'S QUESTIONINGS. Crown 8rv>. 3s. 6d. net. 
 Patterson (A. H.). NOTES OF AN EAST COAST NATURALIST. Illustrated in 
 
 Colour by F. Southgate. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 Peacock (N.). See Little Books on Art. 
 Pearce (E. H.), M.A. ANNALS OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL. With many Illustra- 
 
 tions. Demy Zvo. ys. 6rf. 
 Peary (R. E.), Gold Medallist of the Royal Geographical Society. NORTHWARD OVER 
 
 THE GREAT ICE. With over 800 Illustrations, s po/i. Royal Zvo. 32s.net. 
 Peel (Sidney), late Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, and Secretary to the Royal Commission 
 
 on the Licensing Laws. PRACTICAL LICENSING REFORM. Second Edition. 
 
 frown Zvo. is. 6d. 
 Peters (J. P.), D.D. See Churchman's Library. 
 PetrieiW.M. Flinders), D.C.L., LL.D., Professor of Egyptology at University College. A 
 
 HISTORY OF EGYPT, feom the Earliest Times to the Present Day Fully 
 
 Illustrated. In six volumes. Crown Zvo. 6s. each. 
 Vol. 1. Prehistoric Times to XVIth Dynasty. Fifth Edition. 
 Vol. 11. The XVIIth and XVIIIth Dynasties. Fourth Edition, 
 Vol. hi. XIXth to XXXth Dynasties. 
 
 Yol. iv. The Egyit of the Ptolemies. J. P. Mahaffy, Litt.D. 
 Yol. v. Roman Egypt. J. G. Milne, M.A. 
 
 Vol. vi. Egyit in the Middle Ages. Stanley Lane-Poole, M.A. 
 RELIGION AND CONSCIENCE IN ANCIENT EGYPT. Fully Illustrated. Crow,: 
 
 Zvo. 2S. 6d, 
 SYRIA AND EGYPT, FROM THE TELL EL AMAKNA TABLETS. Crown Zvo. 
 
 as. 6d. 
 EGYPTIAN TALES. Illustrated by Tristram Ellis. In Two Volumes. Cro-.un Zvo. 
 
 3s. 6d. each. 
 EGYPTIAN DECORATIVE ART. With 120 Illustrations. Crown Zvo. 3.1. Cd. 
 Phillips (W. A.). Ser Oxford P.iographies. 
 Phillpotts (Eden). MY DEVON YEAR. With 38 Illustrations by J. Lev Pbthybridgb. 
 
 Second and C heater Edition. Large Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Pienaar (Philip). WITH STEYN AND DE WET. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 3s. 6d. 
 PlautUB. THE CAPTIVI. Edited, with an Introduction, Textual Notes, and a Com- 
 mentary, by W. M. LlNDSAT, Fellow of Jesus College, Oxford. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Plowden-Wardlaw ( J. T. I, I'.. A., King's Coll. Camb. See School Examination Series. 
 Pocock (Roger). A FRONTIERSMAN. Third Edition, Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Podmore (Frank). MODERN SPIRITUALLY. TwoVolnnm. DemyZvo. 21s.net. 
 
 A History and a Criticism. 
 Poer (J. Patrick Le). A MODERN LEGIONARY. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 
 Pollard (Alice). See Little Books on Art. 
 
 Pollard (A. W.). OLD PICTURE LOOKS. With many Illustration'. Demy Zvo. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Pollard (Eliza F.I. See Little Looks on Ai l. 
 
 Pollock (David), M.I.N. A., Author of ' Modern Shipbuilding and the Men engaged in it, 
 etc., etc. See Books on Business. 
 
 Potter (M. O, MA. F.L.S. A TFXT- BOOK OF AGRICULTURAL BOTANY. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Crown i:v. 4s. l.i.
 
 General Literature 15 
 
 Potter Boy (An Old). WHEN I WAS A CHILD. Crown Zvo. bs. 
 
 PradeaiMG.). A KEY to the time allusions in the divine comedy. 
 
 With a Dial. Small quarto. ■$$. 6d. 
 Prance (G.). See R. Wyon. 
 Preacott (0. L.). ABOUT MUSIC, AND WHAT IT IS MADE OF. Crown Zvo. 
 
 3s. 6d. net. 
 Price (L. L.), M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxon. A HISTORY OF ENGLISH 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY. Fourth Edition. Crown Zvo. as. 6d. 
 
 Primrose (Deborah). A modern bceotia. Crown zvo. 6s. 
 
 PROTECTION AND INDUSTRY. By various Writers. Crown Zvo. ts.6d.nct. 
 Pugin and Ro-Wlandson. .THE MICROCOSM OF LONDON, or London in Minia-', 
 
 turE. With 104 Illustrations in colour. In Three Volumes. Small qto. £$, 3s. net. 
 'Q'(A. T. Quiller Couch). THE GOLDEN POMP. A Procession of English Lyrics. 
 
 Second Edition. CrcnvnZvo. 2s.6d.net. 
 QuevedO Villegas. See Miniature Library. 
 
 G.R. and E. S. THE WOODHOUSE CORRESPONDENCE. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 RaCkham (R. B.), M.A. See Westminster Commentaries. 
 
 Randolph (B. W.), D.D., Principal of the Theological College, Ely. See Library of Devotion. 
 RannleCD. W.), M.A. A STUDENT'S HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. Cr. Zvo. 3 s. M. 
 Rashdall (Hastings), M.A., Fellow and Tutor of New College, Oxford. DOCTRINE 
 
 AND DEVELOPMENT. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Rawstome (Lawrence, Esq.). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 A Real Paddy. See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 Reason (W.), M.A. See Social Questions Series. 
 Redfem (W. B.), Author of 'Ancient Wood and Iron Work in Cambridge,' etc. ROYAL 
 
 AND HISTORIC GLOVES AND ANCIENT SHOES. Profusely Illustrated in 
 
 colour and half-tone. Quarto, £2, 2s. net. 
 Reynolds. See Little Galleries. 
 Roberts (M. E.). See C. C. Channer. 
 Robertson, (A.), D.D., Lord Bishop of Exeter. REGNUM DEI. The Bampton Lectures 
 
 ofigoi. Demy Zvo. 12s. 6d. net. 
 Robertson (C. Grant), M.A., Fellow of All Souls' College, Oxford, Examiner in the Honour 
 
 School of Modern History, Oxford, 1901-1904. SELECT STATUTES, CASES, AND 
 
 CONSTITUTIONAL DOCUMENTS, 1660-1832. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 'Robertson (Sir G. S.) K.C.S.I. CHITRAL: The Story of a Minor Siege. With numerous 
 
 Illustrations, Map and Plans. Fourth Edition. Crown Zvo. 2s.6d.net. 
 Robinson (A. W.), M.A. See Churchman's Bible. 
 Robinson (Cecilia). THE MINISTRY OF DEACONESSES. With an Introduction by 
 
 the late Archbishcp of Canterbury. Crown Zvo. 3.C 6d. 
 ROChefOUCauld (La), See Little Library. 
 Rodwell(G), B.A. NEW TESTAMENT GREEK. A Course for Beginners. With a 
 
 Preface by Walter Lock, D.D. , Warden of Keble College. Fcap. Zvo. -\s. 6d. 
 Roe (Fred). ANCIENT COFFERS AND CUPBOARDS : Their History and Description. 
 
 With many Illustrations. Quarto. £3, 3s. net. 
 Rogers (A G. L.), M.A., Editor of the last volume of 'The History of Agriculture and 
 
 Prices in Engand.' See Books on Business. 
 Romney. See Little Galleries. 
 
 R0SC0e(E. S.). ROBERT HARLEY, EARL OF OXFORD. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 7 s.6d. 
 This is the only life of Harley in existence. 
 See also The Little Guides. 
 Rose (Edward). THE ROSE READER. With numerous Illustrations. Crown Zvo. 
 
 2s. 6d. Also in 4 Parts. Farts I. and II. 6d. each ; Fart III. Zd. ; Fart IV. lod. 
 Rubie(A. E.), D.D., Head Master of College, Eltham. See junior SchoolBooks. 
 Russell (W. Clark). THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COLLINGWOOD. With 
 
 Illustrations by F. Brangwyn. Fourth Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 St. Anselm. See Library of Devotion. 
 St. AUgUStine. See I ibrary of Devotion. 
 
 'SakiHH. Munro). REGINALD. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 2s.6d.net. 
 Sales (St. Francis de). See Library of Devotion. 
 Salmon (A. L.). A POPULAR GUIDE TO DEVON. Medium Zvo. 6d.net. See also 
 
 The Little Guides. 
 Sargeaunt (J.), M.A. ANNALS OF WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. With numerous 
 
 Illustrations. Demy Zvo. js. 6d. 
 SathaS (C). See Byzantine Texts
 
 16 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 Schinitt(John>. Bee Byzantine Texts. 
 
 SC0tt,(A.'M.) WINSTON 5PENC1 R CHURCHILL With Portraits and 1 1! nitrations. 
 
 Croivn Zvo. -,s. > ■.:'. 
 Seeley(H. G.)F. KS. DRAGONS OF THE AIR. With many Illustrations. Cr.Svo. 6s. 
 •SeltnCOUrt (E. del. M A. Illl POEMS OP JOHN KEATS. With an Introduction 
 
 and Notes, and a rorti 'it in P njr %vo. is. (><i. net. 
 
 Sells (V. PA. MA. [ECHANIl OFDAILYLIFE. Illustrated. Cr.Svo. is.'.f. 
 
 Selous Udmund). TOMMY SMITHS ANIMALS. Illustrated by G. W. Ord. 
 
 oh. Feafi. Zvo. is.bd. 
 Settle (J. H.). ANECDOTES OF SOLDIERS. Crown %vo. 3s.6J.ntt. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Shakespeare (William). 
 i HE FOUR FOLIOS, 1623; to;--; 1664; 1685. Each Four Guineas net, or a complete 
 
 set, Twtlvt Guineas net. 
 The Arden Shakespeare. 
 
 Demy S:\>. 2s. 6</. net each volume. General Editor, W. J. Craig. An Edition of 
 Shakespeare in single Plays. Edited with a full Introduction, Textual Notes, and a 
 Commentary at the foot of the page. 
 HAMI.E r. Edited by EDWARD DoWDBN, Litt.D. 
 ROMEO AND J UI.IET. Edited by Edward Dowden, I.itt.D. 
 KING LEAK. Edited by W. J. Craig. 
 JULIUS CAESAR. Edited by M. Macmillan, M.A. 
 1 1 1 E TEMPEST. Edited by Moreton Luce. 
 OTHELLO. E lited by H. C. Hart. 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. Edited by H. B. Baildon. 
 CYMBELINE. Edited by Edward Dowden. 
 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSl >K. Edited by H. C. Hart. 
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. Edited by H. Ciningiiam. 
 KING HENRY V. Edited by H. A. Evans. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Edited by W. O. Brigstockb. 
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. Edited by R. Warwick Bond. 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. Edited by K. Dfighton. 
 
 The Little Quarto Shakespeare. Edited by W, J. Craig. With Introduction* and Notes. 
 Pott i(»iw. In 40 I'oltimes. Leather, price IS. net each volume. 
 See al-o Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Sharp (A.). VICTORIAN POETS. CrmvnZvo. 2s. 6d. 
 Sharp (Mrs. E. A.). See Little Books on Art. 
 ShedlOCk (J. S.). THE PIANOFORTE SONATA: Its Origin and Development. 
 
 Crown %z'o. 5.?. 
 Shelley (Percy B.). ADONAIS ; an Elegy on the death of John Keats, Author of 
 1 ndymion,' etc. Pisa. From the types of Didot, 1821. 7s.net. 
 See also Methuen's X T niversal Library. 
 Sherwell (Arthur), M.A. See Social Questions Series. 
 Shipley (Mary EA. AN ENGLISH CHURCH HISTORY FOR CHILDREN. 
 Wtth a Preface by t 1 • Bishop of Gibraltar, late Professor of Ecclesiastical History at King's 
 College, London. With Maps and Illustrations. Part I. Cro~.vn%vo. is.kd.net. 
 SiChel (Walter). DISRAELI : A Study in Personality and Ideas. With 3 Portrait. 
 /'< 1 2 s. 6d. net. 
 
 ial Edition is also published. 
 Jxford Biographies. 
 Sime'J. '. See Little Hooks on Art. 
 
 SlmonaoaCO.A.). Francesco guardi. with 4 i Plates. Royal/olio. &,is.net. 
 
 SkOtClllP l (R. E. D.). See Little Books on Art. 
 
 Skim >U LP. K.). See Little Hooks on Art. 
 
 Sladen( Douglas). SICILY. With over 200 Illustrations. CroVmZvo. $s.net. 
 
 Small (Evan), MA. THE EARTH. An Introduction to Physiography. Illustrated. 
 
 Crown 90, is. < .!. 
 SmallWOOd, (M. G.). See Little Books on Art. 
 Smedley (F. E.). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 
 Smith (Adam). THE WEALTH OF NATIONS. Edited with an Introduction and 
 terou Motes by I u-hCanman, M.A. Two volumes, Demy&vo. 21s. net. 
 See also Methuen's Universal Library. 
 Smith (Horace and James). See Little Library. 
 
 SnelKF. J.\ A LOOK OF F.XMOOK. Illustrated. Crenvn ivo. 6s. 
 Sophocles. See Classical Translations.
 
 General Literature 17 
 
 Sornet (L. A.), Modarn Language Master at King Edward School, Birmingham. 
 
 See Junior School Books. 
 South (Wilton E.), M.A. See Junior School Books. 
 
 S0Utney(K.) ENGLISH SEAMEN. Edited, with an Introduction, by David Hannay. 
 Vol. I. (Howard, Clifford, Hawkins, Drake, Cavendish). Second Edition. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 Vol. n. (Richard Hawkins, Grenville, Essex, and Raleigh). Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Spence (C. H.), M.A., Clifton College. See School Examination Series. 
 Spooner (W. A.), M. A., Warden of New College, Oxford. See Leaders of Religion. 
 Stanbridge (J. W.), B.D., late Canon of York, and sometime Fellow of St. John's College, 
 
 Oxford. See Library of Devotion. 
 'Stancliffe.' GOLF DOS AND DONT'S. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 
 Stedman (A. M. M.), M.A. 
 
 INITIALATINA : Easy Lessons on Elementary Accidence. Seventh Edition. Fcap.Zvo. is. 
 FIRST LATIN LESSONS. Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo. 2s. 
 FIRST LATIN READER. With Notes adapted to the Shorter Latin Primer and Vocabulary. 
 
 Sixth Edition revised. i8mo. is. 6d. 
 EASY SELECTIONS FROM OESAR. The Helvetian War. Second Edition. iSmo. is. 
 EASY SELECTIONS FROM LIVY. Part 1. The Kings of Rome, tfitno. Second 
 
 Edition, is. 6d. 
 EASY LATIN PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION. Tenth Edition Fcap. 
 
 8vo. is. 6d. 
 EXEMPLA LATINA. First Exercises in Latin Accidence. With Vocabulary. Third 
 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. is. 
 EASY LATIN EXERCISES ON THE SYNTAX OF THE SHORTER AND 
 
 REVISED LATIN PRIMER. With Vocabulary. Ninth and Cheaper Edition, re- 
 written. Crown 8vo. is. 6d. Original Edition, is. 6d. Key, 3s. net. 
 THE LATIN COMPOUND SENTENCE : Rules and Exercises. Second Edition. 
 
 Crown Zvo. is. 6d. With Vocabulary. 2s. 
 NOTANDA QUAEDAM : Miscellaneous Latin Exercises on Common Rules and Idioms. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Fcap. %vo. is. 6d. With Vocabulary, is. Key, is. net. 
 LATIN VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION: Arranged according to Subjects. 
 
 Twelfth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d. 
 A VOCABULARY OF LATIN IDIOMS. iZmo. Second Edition, is. 
 STEPS TO GREEK. Second Edition, revised. 181110. is. 
 A SHORTER GREEK PRIMER. Crown 8vo. is. 6d. 
 EASY GREEK PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION. Third Edition, revised. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d. 
 GREEK VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION. Arranged according to Subjects. 
 
 Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d. 
 GREEK TESTAMENT SELECTIONS. For the use of Schools. With Introduction, 
 
 Notes, and Vocabulary. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d. 
 STEPS TO FRENCH. Sixth Edition. i8mo. 8d. 
 FIRST FRENCH LESSONS. Sixth Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. is. 
 EASY FRENCH PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION. Fifth Edition. 
 
 revised. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d. 
 EASY FRENCH EXERCISES ON ELEMENTARY SYNTAX. With Vocabulary. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Crown Zvo. is. 6d. Key. 3J. net. 
 FRENCH VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION: Arranged according to Subjects. 
 
 Tzvelfth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. is. 
 Steel (R. Elliott), M.A., F.C.S. THE WORLD OF SCIENCE. Including Chemistry, 
 
 Heat, Light, Sound, Magnetism, Electricity, Botany, Zoology, Physiology, Astronomy, 
 
 and Geology. 147 Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. is. 6d. See also School 
 
 Examination Series. 
 Stephenson (C), of the Technical College, Bradford, and SuddardS (F.) of the Yorkshire 
 
 College, Leeds. ORNAMENTAL DESIGN FOR WOVEN FABRICS. Illustrated. 
 
 Demy 8vo. Second Edition, is. 6d. 
 Stephenson (J.), M.A. THE CHIEF TRUTHS OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH 
 
 Crown Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 Steme (Laurence). See Little Library. 
 Steiry (W.), M.A. ANNALS OF ETON COLLEGE. With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 Demy 8vo. ys. 6d. 
 Steuart (Katherine). BY ALLAN WATER. Second Edition. Crown ivo. 6s. 
 Stevenson (R. L.). THE LETTERS OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TO HIS 
 
 FAMILY AND FRIENDS. Selected and Edited, with Notes and Introductions, by 
 
 Sidney Colvin. Sixth and Cheaper Edition. Cro%un8vo. 11s. 
 
 A3
 
 1 8 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 Library Edition. De»iy %vo. 2 vols. 25*. net. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 VAILI.MA LETTERS. With an Etched Portiait by William Strang. Fourth Edition. 
 Croivn 8r \ Bit .ram. 6s. 
 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 
 THE I.I IT OF R. L, Ml VI NSON. See G. Balfour. 
 
 Stevenson (M. I.). PROM SARANAC TO THE MARQU1 : e I etters written 
 
 by Mrs. M. I. Sthvbnson during 1887-8 to her sister. Mi [any Wirt 1 Balfour. With 
 
 an Introduction by George W. Balfour, M.D., LLD., F.R.S.S. CrowuBvo. 6s.net. 
 \. Col inial Edition is also published. 
 StOddart (Anna M.). See Oxford Biographies. 
 Stone (E. D.), M.A., late Assistant Master at Eton. SELECTIONS FROM THE 
 
 ODYSSEY. Fcap. Zvo. \s.6d. 
 Stone (S. J.). POEMS AND HYMNS. With a Memoir by F. G. EllBRTON, M.A. 
 
 With Portrait. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Straker (F. ), Assoc, of the Institute of Bankers, and Lecturer to the London Chamber of 
 
 Commerce. See Books on Business. 
 Streane (A W.), D.D. See Churchman's Bible. 
 Stroud !H.),D.Sc, M. A., Professor of Physics in the Durham College of Science, Ncwcastle- 
 
 on-Tyne. See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Strutt (Joseph). THE SPORTS AND PASTIMES OF THE PEOPLE OF 
 
 ENGLAND. Illustrated by many engravings. Revised by J. CharlesCox, LL.D., F.S.A. 
 
 Quarto. 21J. net. 
 Stuart (Capt. Donald). THE STRUGGLE FOR PERSIA. With a Map. Cro-.vn Zvo. 6s. 
 Sturch (FA. Manual Training Instructor to the Surrey County Council. SOLUTIONS I I I 
 
 THE CITY AND GUILDS QUESTIONS IN MANUAL INSTRUCTION DRAW- 
 
 I N't '.. Imp. uto. 2S. 
 
 Suckling (Sir JolmK .FRAGMENTA AUREA: a Collection of all the Incomparable 
 
 Peeces, written by. And published by a friend to perpetuate his memory. Printed by his 
 
 own copies. 
 Printed for Humphrey Moself.y, and are to be sold at his shop, at the sign of the Princes 
 
 Arms in St. Pauls Churchyard, 1646. 
 SuddardS (F.). See C. Stephenson. 
 Surtees (R. S.). See Illustrated Pocket Library. 
 
 Swift (Jonathan). THE IOURNALTOSTELLA. Edited by G. A Aitkbm. Cr. Sro. 6s. 
 SymesiJ. E.). M.A. THE 'FRENCH REVOLUTION. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. ?s.6d. 
 Syrett (Netta). See Little Blue Books. 
 Tacitus. AGRICOLA. With Introduction, Notes, Map, etc. By R. F. Davis, M.A, 
 
 late Assistant Master at Weymouth College. Fca/>. Zvo. 2s. 
 GERMANIA. By the same Editor. Fcap. Zvo. is. See also Classical Translations. 
 Tauler (J.). Sec Library of Devotion. 
 Taunton (E. L.). A HISTORY OF THE JESUITS IN ENGLAND. With Illu 
 
 tions. Demy Zvo. i\s. net. 
 Taylor (A. E.)'. THE ELEMENTS OF METAPHYSICS. Demy Zvo. 1es.6d.net. 
 Taylor (F. G.), MA. See Commercial Series. 
 Taylor (I. A.). See Oxford Biographies. 
 
 Taylor (T. M.), M A.. Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. A CONSTI- 
 TUTIONAL AND POLITICAL HISTORY OF ROME. Crmvn Zvo. 7s. 6d. 
 Tennyson (Alfred, Lord). THE EARLY POEMS OF. Edited, with Notes and an 
 
 Introduction, bv J. Churton Collins, M.A. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 IN MEMORIAM, MAUD, AND THE PRINCESS. Edited by J. Churton Collins, M. \. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. See also Little Library. 
 Terry (C. S.). See Oxford Biographies. 
 
 Terton (Alice). LIGHTS AND SHADOWS IN A HOSPITAL. tV«w»8w. 3*. 6d. 
 Thackeray (W. M.I. See Little Library. 
 
 Theobald (F. W.), M.A. INSECT LIFE. Illustrated. Second Ed. Revised. Cr.Zvo. is.6d. 
 Thompson (A. HA. See The Little Guides. 
 Tileston (Mary W.). DAILY STRENGTH FOR DAILY NEEDS. Tenth Edition. 
 
 Fcaf. Zvo. 2?. 6./. net. Also editions in superior binding 5*. and 6s. 
 Tompkins (H. W.), F.K.H.S. See The Little Gi 
 Townley (Lady Susan). MY CHINESE NOTE-BOOK With 16 Illustrations and 2 
 
 Maps. F/tird Edition. Demy Zvo. 101. 6d. net. 
 A Colonial Edition i-, also published. 
 Toynbee (Paget). M.A, D.I.itt. DANTE STUDIES AND RESEARCHES. Demy 
 
 Zvo. ioj. 6d. net. See also Oxford Biographies.
 
 General Literature 
 
 19 
 
 Trench (Herbert). DEIRDRE WED: and Other Poems. Crown Zvo. ss. 
 
 Trevelyan (G. M.), Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. ENGLAND UNDER THE 
 
 STUARTS. With Maps and Plans. Demy 8z>o. 10s. 6d. net. 
 TrOUtbeck (G. E.). See The Little Guides. 
 Tuckwell (Gertrude). See Social Questions Series. 
 Twining (Louisa). See Social Questions Series. 
 Tyler (E. A.), B.A., F.C.S., Head of Chemical Department, Swansea Technical College. 
 
 See Junior School Books. 
 Tyrell-Gill (Frances). See Little Books on Art. 
 Vaughan (Henry). See Little Library. 
 Voegelin (A.), M.A. See Junior Examination Series. 
 Wade (G. W.), D.D. OLD TESTAMENT HISTORY. With Maps. Third Edition. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Wagner (Richard). See A. L. Cleather. 
 Wall (J. 0.) DEVILS. Illustrated by the Author and from photographs. Demy Zvo. 
 
 4s. 6d. net. See also The Antiquary's Books. 
 Walters (H. B.). See Little Books on Art. 
 
 Walton (Izaac) and Cotton (Charles). See Illustrated Pocket Library, Methuen's Uni- 
 versal Library, and Little Library. 
 WarmelO (D. S. Van). ON COMMANDO. With Portrait. Crown Zvo. y. 6d. 
 Waterhouse (Mrs. Alfred). WITH THE SIMPLE-HEARTED: Little Homiliesto 
 
 Women in Country Places. Small Pott Zvo. 2S. net. See also Little Library. 
 Weatherhead (T. C), M.A. EXAMINATION PAPERS IN HORACE. Crown Zvo. zs. 
 
 See also Junior Examination Series. 
 Webb (W. T.). See Little Blue Books. 
 Webber (F. C. ). See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Wells (Sidney H.). See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Wells (J.), M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Wadham College. OXFORD AND OXFORD LIFE. 
 
 By Members of the University. Third Edition Crown Zvo. is. 6d. 
 A SHORT HISTORY OF ROME. Fifth Edition. With 3 Maps. Cr. Zvo. is. 6d. 
 
 This book is intended for the Middle and Upper Forms of Public Schools and for Pass 
 
 Students at the Universities. It contains copious Tables, etc. See also TheLittle Guides. 
 Wetmore (Helen C). THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS ('Buffalo Bill"). With 
 
 Illustrations. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 6s. 
 Whibley (C). See Henley and Whibley. 
 
 Whibley (L.), M.A., Fellow of Pembroke College, Cambridge. GREEK OLIGAR- 
 CHIES : THEIR ORGANISATION AND CHARACTER. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Whitaker (G. H.), M.A. See Churchman's Bible. 
 White (Gilbert). THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. Edited by L. C. 
 
 Miall, F.R.S., assisted by W. Warde Fowler, M.A. Crown Zvo. 6s. See also Methuen's 
 
 Universal Library. 
 Whitfield (E. E.). See Commercial Series. 
 Whitehead (A. W.). GASPARD DE COLIGNY With many Illustrations. Demy Zvo. 
 
 12s. 6d. net. 
 Whitley (Miss). See Social Questions Series. 
 
 Wliyte (A. G.), B.Sc, Editor of Electrical Investments. See Books on Business. 
 Wilberforce (Wilfrid) See Little Books on Art. 
 Wilde (Oscar).. DE PROFUNDIS. Crown Zvo. 5 s. net. 
 
 Also a Limited Edition on Japanese Vellum. Demy Zvo. £2, 2s. net ; and a Limited 
 
 Edition on hand-made paper. Demy Zvo. 21s.net. A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Wilkins (W. H.), B. A. See Social Questions Series. 
 Wilkinson (J. Frome). See Social Questions Series. 
 
 Williamson (W.). THE BRITISH GARDENER. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. 
 Williamson (W.), B.A. EASY DICTATION AND SPELLING. Third Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. \s. See also Junior Examination Series and Junior School Books. 
 WUmot-Buxton(E. M.). MAKERS OF EUROPE. Crown Zvo. Third Edition, is. 6d. 
 
 A Text-book of European History for Middle Forms. 
 THE ANCIENT WORLD. With Maps and Illustrations. Crown Zvo. 3 s. 6d. 
 
 See also The Beginner's Books. 
 Wilson (Bishop). See Library of Devotion. 
 Willson (Beckles). LORD STRATHCONA : the Story of his Life. Illustrated. Demy 
 
 Zvo. is. 6d. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Wilson (A. J.), Editor of the Investor's Review, City Editor of the Daily Chronicle. See 
 
 Books on Business. 
 Wilson (H. A.). See Books on Business.
 
 20 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 Wilton (Richard), M.A. LYRA PASTORALIS: Songs of Nature, Church, and Home. 
 
 Pott St'O. 25. 6d. 
 
 A volume of devotional poems. 
 Winb0lt(S. E), M.A., A :stant Master in Christ's Hospital. EXERCISES IN LATIN 
 
 ACCIDENCE. Crown ivo. is. 6d. 
 
 An elementary book adapted for Lower Forms to accompany the Shorter Latin Primer. 
 LATIN HLXAMl. IT. R VERSE: An Aid to Composition. Crown Svo. 3*. 6</. Key, 5s. net. 
 Windle (B. C. A. 1, l >. Sc., F.R.S. See Antiquary's Books and The Little Guides. 
 Winterbotham (Canon), M.A., B.Sc, LL.B. See Churchman's Library. 
 Wood (J. A. E.). See Textbooks of Technology. 
 Wordsworth (Christopher). See Antiquary's Books. 
 Wordsworth (W.I. See Little Library. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.) and Coleridge (S. T.). See Little Library. 
 
 Wright (Arthur), M A., fellow of Queen's College, Cambridge. See Churchman's Library. 
 Wright (Sophie 1. GERMAN VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION. Fcaf.Svo. is.6d. 
 "Wrong, (George M.), Professor of History in the University of Toronto. THE EARL OF 
 
 ELGIN. With Illustrations. Demy Svo. ji.6d.net. 
 Wylde (A. B.). MODERN ABYSSINIA. With a Map and a Portrait. Demy Svo. 
 
 1 $5. net. 
 Wyndham(G), M.P. THE POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. With an Intro- 
 duction and Notes. Demy ivo. Buckram, gilt top. 10s. 6d. 
 Wyon(R.) and Prance (G.). THE LAND OF THE BLACK MOUNTAIN. Being a 
 
 description of Montenegro. With 40 Illustrations. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 A Colonial Edition is also published. 
 Yeats (W. B.). AN ANTHOLOGY OF IRISH VERSE. Revised and Enlarged 
 
 Edition. Crown Svo. 3$. 6d. 
 Yendis(M.). THE GREAT RED FROG. A Story told in 40 Coloured Pictures. Fcap. 
 
 Svo. is. net. 
 Young (FilSOn). THE COMPLETE MOTORIST. With 13S Illustrations. Third 
 
 Edition, Demy Svo. 125. 6d. net. 
 Young (T. M.). THE AMERICAN COTTON INDUSTRY: A Study of Work and 
 
 Workers. With an Introduction by Elijah Helm, Secretary to the Manchester Chamber 
 
 of Commerce. Crown Svo. Cloth, 2s. 6d. ; paper boards, is. 6d. 
 Zenker (E. V.). ANARCHISM. Demy Svo. 7 s. 6d. 
 Zimmern (Antonia). WHAT DO WE KNOW CONCERNING ELECTRICI l \ 
 
 Crown Svo. is. 6d. net. 
 
 Antiquary's Books, The 
 
 General Editor, J. CHARLKS COX, LL.D., F.S.A. 
 A series of volumes dealing with various branches of English Antiquiti< 
 comprehensive and popular, as well as accurate and scholarly. 
 
 English Monastic Life. By the Right Rev. Abbot Gasquet, O.S.B. Illustrated. Second 
 Edition, revised. Demy Svo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Remains op the Prehistoric Age in England. By B. C. A. Windle, D.Sc, F.R.S. 
 With numerous Illustrations and Plans. Demy Svo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Old Service Books of the English CHURCH. By Christopher Wordsworth, M.A. , and 
 Henry Littlehales. With Coloured and other Illustrations. Demy Svo. js. 6a. int. 
 
 Celtic Art. By J. Romilly Allen, F.S.A. With numerous Illustrations and Plans. Demy 
 Svo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 ♦Archaeology and False Antiquities. By R. Munro, LL.D. With numerous Illus- 
 trations. Demy Svo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Shrines of British Saints. By J. C. Wall. With numerous Illustrations and Plans. 
 Demy Svo. js. fid. net. 
 
 Beginner's Books, The 
 
 "Easy French Rhymes. By Henri Blouet. Illustrated. Fceit. Svo. is. 
 1 JV Stories from English History. By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, Author of Makers of 
 Europe.' Fcap. Svo. is. 
 
 Business, Books on 
 
 Croivn Si'J. 2s. 6d. ?ict. 
 A series of volumes dealing with all the most important aspects of commercial and 
 financial activity. The volumes are intended to treat separately all the considerable
 
 General Literature 21 
 
 industries and forms of business, and to explain accurately and clearly what they do 
 
 and how they do it. The first Twelve volumes are — 
 
 Ports and Docks. By Douglas Owen. 
 
 Railways. By E. R. McDermott. 
 
 The Stock Exchange. By Chas. Duguid. Second Edition. 
 
 The Business of Insurance. By A. J. Wilson. 
 
 The Electrical Industry : Lighting, Traction, and Power. By A. G. Whyte, B.Sc. 
 
 The Shipbuilding Industry. By David Pollock, M.I.N.A. 
 
 The Money Market. By F. Straker. 
 
 The Business Side of Agriculture. By A. G. L. Rogers, M.A. 
 
 Law in Business. By H. A. Wilson. 
 
 The Brewing Industry. By Julian L. Baker, F.I.C., F.C.S. 
 
 The Automobile Industry. By G. de H. Stone. 
 
 Mining and Mining Investments. By 'A. Moil.' 
 
 *The Business of Advertising. By Clarence G. Moran, Bar.ister-at-Law. Illustrated. 
 
 *Trade Unions. By G. Drage. 
 
 *Civil Engineering. By T. Claxton Fidler, M.Inst. C.E. Illustrated. 
 
 *The Coal Industry. By Ernest Aves. Illustrated. 
 
 Byzantine Texts 
 
 Edited by J. B. BURY, M.A., Litt.D. 
 
 A series of texts of Byzantine Historians, edited by English and foreign scholars. 
 Zachariah of Mitylene. Translated by F. J. Hamilton, D.D., and E. W. Brooks. Demy 
 
 Zvo. 12s. 6d. net. 
 Evagrius. Edited by Leon Parmentier and M. Bidez. Demy Zvo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 The History of Psellus. Edited by C. Sathas. Demy Zvo. 15*. net. 
 Ecthfsis Chronica. Edited by Professor Lambros. Demy Zvo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 The Chronicle of Morea. Edited by Jobn Schmitt. DemySvo. iss.net. 
 
 Churchman's Bible, The 
 
 General Editor, J. H. BURN, B.D., F.R.S.E. 
 
 A series of Expositions on the Books of the Bible, which will be of service to the 
 general reader in the practical and devotional study of the Sacred Text. 
 
 Each Book is provided with a full and clear Introductory Section, in which is 
 stated what is known or conjectured respecting the date and occasion of the com- 
 position of the Book, and any other particulars that may help to elucidate its meaning 
 as a whole. The Exposition is divided into sections of a convenient length, corre 
 sponding as far as possible with the divisions of the Church Lectionary. The 
 Translation of the Authorised Version is printed in full, such corrections as are 
 deemed necessary being placed in footnotes. 
 
 The Epistle to the Galatians. Edited by A. W. Robinson, M. A. Second Edition. Fcap. 
 
 Zvo. is. 6d. net. 
 Ecclesiastes. Edited by A. W. Streane, D.D. Fcap. Zvo. is. 6d. net. 
 The Epistle to the Philippians. Edited by C. R. D. Biggs, D.D. Fcap Zvo. 1s.6d.net. 
 The Epistle of St. James. Edited by H. W. Fulford, M.A. Fcap. Zvo is. 6d. net. 
 Isaiah. Edited by W. E. Barnes, D.D. Two Vohunes. Fcap. Zvo. 2s. net each. With Map. 
 The Epistle of St. Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians. Edited by G. H. Whitaker, 
 
 M.A. Fcap. Zvo. is. 6d. net. 
 
 Churchman's Library, The 
 
 General Editor, J. H. BURN, B.D., F.R.S.E., 
 A series of volumes upon such questions as are occupying the attention of Church 
 people at the present time. The Editor has enlisted the services of a band of 
 scholars, who, having made a special study of their respective subjects, are in a 
 position to furnish the best results of modern research accurately and attractively. 
 
 The Beginnings of English Christianity. By W. E. Collins, M.A. With Map. 
 
 Crown Zvo. y. 6d. 
 Some New Testament Problems. By Arthur Wright, M.A. Crown Zvo. 6s.
 
 22 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 J HI KINGDOM ok Heaven Here and KbrsAI iek. By Canon Winterbotham, .M.A., B.Sc, 
 
 LL. B. Croumtvo, ;s. 6d. 
 1'iie Workmanship of the Prayrr Book: Its Literary and Litui ical A pects. By 
 
 J. Dowden, D. D. Stcond Edition, Crown Svo. y. 6d. 
 I i;y F. B. I ran . M.A.. 1 nt.l). Crown Svo. ys. Cd. 
 
 I hi: Old Testamknt and the New Scholarship. ByJ. W. Peters, D.D. Crc.ontvo. 6s. 
 I hi: Churchman's In production to the Old Testament. By A. M. Mackay, B.A. 
 
 Crown Svo. 3 
 The CHURCH ok Christ. By E. T. Green, M.A. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Comparative Theology. By J. A. MacCulloch. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Classical Translations 
 Edited by II. F. Fox, M. A., Fellow and Tutor of Brasenose College, Oxford. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 
 A scries of Translations from the Greek and Latin Classics. The Publishers have 
 enlisted the services of some of the best Oxford and Cambridge Scholars, and it is 
 their intention that the series shall be distinguished by literary excellence as v.: 
 by scholarly accuracy. 
 
 .1 \ men ion, Choephoroe, Eumenides. Translated by Lewis Campbell, LL.D. 5s. 
 
 Cicero — De Oratore I. Translated by E. N. P. Moor, M.A. 3*. 6d. 
 Cicero — Select Orations (Pro Milone, Pro Mureno, Philippic II., in Catilinam). Translated 
 
 by H. E. D. BlakiSTON, M.A. 5*. 
 Cicero — De Natura Deorum. Translated by F, Brook . M.A. .s. 
 Ciceuo — De Officiis. Translated by G. B. Gardiner, M.A. as. 
 Horace — The Odes and Kpodes. Translated by A. D. Godley, M.A. is. 
 Lucian — Six Dialogues (Ni-rinus, Icaro-Menippus, The Cock, The Ship, The Parasite, The 
 Lover of Falsehood). Translated by S. T. Irwin, M.A. 3.?. 6d. 
 iocles — Electra and Ajax. Translated by E. D. A. Morshcid, M.A. as. 6d. 
 ITUS — Agricola and Germania. Translated by R. B. Townshend. 2^. 6d. 
 The Satirhs of Juvenal. Translated by S. G. Owen. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Commercial Series, Methuens 
 
 Edited by H. de B. GIBBINS, Litt.D., M.A. 
 Crown Svo. 
 A series intended to assist students and young men preparing for a commercial 
 career, by supplying useful handbooks of a clear and practical character, dealing 
 with those subjects which are absolutely essential in the business life. 
 Commercial Education in Theory and Practice. By E. E. Whitfield, M.A. $s. 
 
 An introduction to Methuens Commercial Series treating the question of Commercial 
 Education fully from both the point of view of the teacher and of the parent. 
 British Commerce and ( is prom Elizabeth ro \ ictoria. By H. de B. Gibbins, 
 
 Litt.D., M.A. Third Edition, as. 
 
 ibrcial Examination Papers. By H. de B. Gibbins, Litt.D., M.A. is. dJ. 
 Tin: Economics ok I B, By II- de B. Gibbins, LittD. , M A. is.6d. 
 
 A German Commercial Reader. ByS. I'.. Bally. With Vocabulary, is. 
 \ Commercial Geographv ok the British Empire. By L. W. Lyde, M.A. Fourth 
 
 .'ion. as. 
 A Commercial Geography op Foreign Nations. By F. C. Boon, B.A 
 A Primer op Bi ini . ByS. Jackson, M.A. Third Edition. 1 
 Commercial Arithmetic. By F. G. fay lor, M.A- Third Edition, \s.6d. 
 French I ial Correspondence. By S. E. Bally. With Vocabulary. Third 
 
 Edition, as. 
 :an Commercial Correspondence ByS. E. Bally. With Vocabulary. 2s. 6d. 
 A I mmbrcial Reader. Bj -. 1 Bally. With Vocabulary. Second Edition. 2s. 
 
 Precis Writing and Okkice Correspondence. By F. E. Whitfield, M.A. 
 
 Edition. 2s. 
 A (',! |DB TO I 0N9 AND BUSINESS. By II. [ones. 15. I 
 
 The PrINCIPLI 01 BOOK-KEEPING BY DOUBLE I iv By I.I. B. M ' Allen, M. A. 2S. 
 
 Commercial Law. By w. Douglas Edwards. 2s.
 
 General Literature 23 
 
 Connoisseur's Library, The 
 
 Wide Royal 8vo. 2$s. net. 
 
 A sumptuous series of 20 books on art, written by experts for collectors, superbly 
 illustrated in photogravure, collotype, and colour. The technical side of the art is 
 duly treated. The first volumes are — 
 
 Mezzotints. By Cyril Davenport. With 40 Plates in Photogravure. 
 Porcelain. By Edward Dillon. With 19 Plates in Colour, 20 in Collotype, and 5 in 
 
 Photogravure. 
 *Miniatures. By Dudley Heath. With 9 Plates in Colour, 15 in Collotype, and 15 in 
 
 Photogravure. 
 *Ivories. By A. Maskell. With 80 Plates in Collotype and Photogravure. 
 
 Devotion, The Library of 
 
 With Introductions and (where necessary) Notes. 
 Small Poii Svo, cloth, 2s. ; leather, 2s. 6d. net. 
 The masterpieces of devotional literature. The books are furnished with such 
 
 Introductions and Notes as may be necessary to explain the standpoint of the author 
 
 and the obvious difficulties of the text, without unnecessary intrusion between the 
 
 author and the devout mind. 
 
 The Confessions of St. Augustine. Edited by C. Bigg, D.D. Third Edition. 
 
 The Christian Year. Edited by Walter Lock, D. D. Second Edition. 
 
 The Imitation of Christ. Edited by C. Bigg, D.D. Fourth Edition. 
 
 A Book of Devotions. Edited by J. W. Stanbridge. B.D. Second Edition. 
 
 Lyra Innocentium. Edited by Walter Lock, D.D. 
 
 A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life. Edited by C. Bigg, D.D. Second Edition. 
 
 The Temple. Edited by E. C. S. Gibson, D.D. 
 
 A Guide to Eternity. Edited by J. W. Stanbridge, B,D. 
 
 The Psalms of David. Edited by B. W.Randolph, D.D. 
 
 Lyra Apostolica. Edited by Canon Scott Holland and Canon H. C. Beeching. M. A. 
 
 The Inner Way. By J. Tauter. Edited by A. W. Hutton, M.A. 
 
 The Thoughts of Pascal. Edited by C. S. Jerram, M.A. 
 
 On the Love of God. By St. Francis de Sales. Edited by W. J. Knox-Little, M.A. 
 
 A Manual of Consolation from the Saints and Fathers. Edited by J. H. Burn, B.D. 
 
 The Song of Songs. Edited byB. Blaxland, M.A. 
 
 The Devotions of St. Ansf.lm. Edited by C. C. J. Webb, M.A. 
 
 Grace Abounding. By John Bunyan. Edited by S. C. Freer, M.A. 
 
 Bishop Wilson's Sacra Privata. Edited by A. E. Burn, B.D. 
 
 Lyra Sacra: A Book of Sacred Verse. Edited by H. C. Beeching, M.A, Canon of West- 
 minster. 
 
 A Day Book from the Saints and Fathers. Edited by J. H. Burn, B.D. 
 
 Heavenly Wisdom. A Selection from the English Mystics. Edited by E. C. Gregory. 
 
 Light, Life, and Love. A Selection from the German Mystics. Edited by W. R. Inge, M.A. 
 
 Illustrated Pocket Library of Plain and Coloured Books, The 
 
 Fcap Svo. y. 6d. net each volume. 
 A series, in small form, of some of the famous illustrated books of fiction and 
 general literature. These are faithfully reprinted from the first or best editions 
 without introduction or notes. 
 
 COLOURED BOOKS 
 Old Coloured Books. By George Paston. With 16 Coloured Plates. Fcap. Zvo. 2s. net. 
 The Life and Death of John Mytton, Esq. By Nimrod. With 18 Coloured Plates by 
 Henry Aiken and T. J. Rawlins. Third Edition, y. 6d. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30.?. net. 
 The Life of a Sportsman. By Nimrod. With 35 Coloured Plates by Henry Aiken. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 Handley Cross. By R. S. Surtees. With 17 Coloured Plates and 100 Woodcuts in the 
 Text by John Leech. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30$. net. 
 Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour. By R. S. Surtees. With 13 Coloured Plates and 90 Wood- 
 cuts in the Text by John Leech. 3J. 6d. net. 
 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30J. net.
 
 24 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 Jorrockk' Jaunts and Jollities. By R. S. Surtees. With 15 Coloured Plates by H. 
 Aiken, ir. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 
 This volume is reprinted from the extremely rare and costly edition of 1843, which contains 
 Aiken's very fine illustrations instead of the usual ones by Phiz. 
 
 Mamma. By R. S. Surtees. With 13 Coloured Plates and 70 Woodcuts in the Text by 
 John Leech. 3*. id. net. 
 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 The Analysis of the Hunting Field. By R. S. Surtees. With 7 Coloured Plates by 
 
 Henry Aiken, and 43 Illustrations on Wood. 3s. id. net. 
 The Tour of Dk. Syntax in Search of the Picturesque. By William Combe. With 
 30 Coloured Plates by T. Rowlandson. 3s. id. net. 
 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search ok Consolation. By William Combe. With 
 24 Coloured Plates by T. Rowlandson. 3s. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 The Third Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of a Wife. By William Combe. With 
 24 Coloured Plates by T. Rowlandson. 3s. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 THE History of Johnny Quae Genus : the Little Foundling of the late Dr. Syntax. By 
 the Author of ' The Three Tours.' With 24 Coloured Plates by Rowlandson. 3*. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30*. net. 
 The English Dance of Death, from the Designs of T. Rowlandson, with Metrical Illus- 
 trations by the Author of ' Doctor Syntax.' Two Volumes. Js. net. 
 This book contains 76 Coloured Plates. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30$. net. 
 The Dance of Life: A Poem. By the Author of 'Doctor Syntax.' Illustrated with 26 
 Coloured Engravings by T. Rowlandson. 3s. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30s. net. 
 Life in London : or, the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., and his Elegant 
 Friend, Corinthian Tom. By Pierce Egan. With 36 Coloured Plates by I. R. and G. 
 Cruikshank. With numerous Designs on Wood. 3s.i1i.net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30J. net. 
 •Real Life in London: or, the Rambles and Adventures of Bob Tallyho, Esq., and his 
 Cousin, The Hon. Tom Dashall. By an Amateur (Pierce Egan). With 31 Coloured Plates 
 by Aiken and Rowlandson, etc. Two I 'olumes. js. net. 
 The Life ob an Actor. By Pierce Egan. With 27 Coloured Plates by Theodore Lane, 
 
 and several Designs on Wood. 3s. id. net. 
 The Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. With 24 Coloured Plates by T. Row- 
 landson. 3s. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japenese paper. 30*. net. 
 A reproduction of a very rare book. 
 I'm- Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome. By an Officer. With 15 Coloured 
 
 Plates by T. Rowlandson. 3s. id. net. 
 The National Si'Orts of Great Britain. With Descriptions and 51 Coloured Plates by 
 Henry Aiken. 3,1. id. net. 
 Also a limited edition on large Japanese paper. 30J. net. 
 
 This book is completely different from the large folio edition of 'National Sports' by the 
 same artist, and none of the plates are similar. 
 Tin Adventures of a Post Caitain. By A Naval Officer. With 24 Coloured Plates by 
 
 Mr. Williams. 3s. id. net. 
 GAMONIA : "i , ih" Art of Preserving Game ; and an Improved Method of making Plantations 
 and Covers, explained and illustrated by Lawrence Rawstorne, Esq. With 15 Coloured 
 PlatCS by T. Rawlins. 3s.id.net. 
 An Academy POrGrown Housemen: Containing the completest Instructions for Walking, 
 Trotting, Cantering, (lallopin^, Stumbling, and Tumbling. Illustrated with 27 Coloured 
 Plates, and adorned with a Portrait of the Author. By Geoffrey Gambado, E«q. 
 3s. id. net. 
 Real Like in Ireland, or, the Day and Night Scenes of Brian Boru, Esq., and his Elegant 
 Friend, Sir Shawn O'Dogherty. By a Real Paddy. With 19 Coloured Plates by Heath, 
 Marks, etc. 3*. id. net. 
 Tin- Adventures of Johnny Newco.me in the Navy. By Alfred Burton. With 16 
 
 Coloured Plates by T. Rowlandson 3s. id. net. 
 'Tin: Old English Squire: A Poem. By John Careless, Esq. With 20 Coloured Plates 
 after the style of T. Rowlandson.
 
 General Literature 25 
 
 plain books 
 
 The Grave : A Poem. By Robert Blair. Illustrated by 12 Etchings executed by Louis 
 
 Schiavonetti from the original Inventions of William Blake. W ith an Engraved Title Page 
 
 and a Portrait of Blake by T. Phillips, R. A. 3*. 6d. net. 
 
 The illustrations are reproduced in photogravure. Also a limited edition on large Japanese 
 
 paper, with India proofs and a duplicate set of the plates. 15.?. net. 
 Illustrations of the Book of Job. Invented and engraved by William Blake. 3s. 6d. net. 
 These famous Illustrations — 21 in number — are reproduced in photogravure. Also a limit.'. 
 
 edition on large Japanese paper, with India proofs and a duplicate set of the plates. 151. net. 
 ^Esop's Fables. With 3S0 Woodcuts by Thomas Bewick. 3s. td. ttet. 
 Windsor Castle. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. With 22 Plates and 87 Woodcuts in the Text 
 
 by George Cruikshank. y 6d. net. 
 Thb Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. With 40 Plates and 58 Woodcuts i- 
 
 the Text by George Cruikshank. 3s. 6d. net. 
 Frank Fairlegh. By F. F. Smedley. With 30 Plates by George Cruikshank. 3^. 6d. net. 
 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. With 24 Illustrations by the Author. 3s. 6d. net. 
 The Compleat Angler. By Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton. With 14 Plates and 77 
 
 Woodcuts in the Text. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 This volume is reproduced from the beautiful edition of John Major of 1824. 
 The Pickwick Papers. By Charles Dickens. With the 43 Illustrations by Seymour and 
 
 Phiz, the two Buss Plates, and the 32 Contemporary Onwhyn Plates. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Junior Examination Series 
 
 Edited by A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Fcap. 8vo. is. 
 
 This series is intended to lead up to the School Examination Series, and is intended 
 for the use of teachers and students, to supply material for the former and practice 
 for the latter. The papers are carefully graduated, cover the whole of the subject 
 usually taught, and are intended to form part of the ordinary class work. They 
 may be used vivd voce or as a written examination. 
 Junior French Examination Papers. By F. Jacob, M.A. 
 Junior Latin Examination Papers. By C. G. Botting, M.A. Third Edition. 
 Junior English Examination Papers. By W. Williamson, M.A. 
 Junior Arithmetic Examination Papers. By W. S. Beard. Second Edition. 
 Junior Algebra Examination Papers. By S. W. Finn, M.A. 
 Junior Greek Examination Papers. By T. C. Weatherhead, M.A. 
 Junior General Information Examination Papers. By W. S. Beard. 
 Junior Geography Examination Papers. By W. G. Baker, M.A. 
 Junior German Examination Papers. By A. Voegelin, M.A. 
 
 Junior School-Books, Methuen's 
 
 Edited by O. D. Inskip, LL.D., and W. Williamson, B.A. 
 
 A series of elementary books for pupils in lower forms, simply written 
 
 by teachers of experience. 
 
 AClass-Bookof Dictation Passages. By W.Williamson, B.A. Tenth Edition. Cr.Zvo. is.6d. 
 
 The Gospel According to St. Matthew. Edited by E. Wilton South, M.A. With Three 
 
 Maps. Crown 8z>o. is. 6d. 
 The Gospel According to St. Mark. Edited by A. E. Rubie, D.D. With Three Map-;. 
 
 Crozun Sz'O. is. 6d. 
 A Junior English Grammar. By W. Williamson, B.A. With numerous passages for 
 
 parsins and analysis, and a chapter on Essay Writing. Second Edition. Crownivo. ss. 
 A Junior Chemistry. By E. A. Tyler, B.A., F.C.S. With 73 Illustrations. Second 
 
 Edition. Crown %vo. zs. 6d. 
 The Acts of the Apostles. Edited by A. E. Rubie, D.D. Crown Sr>o. 2s. 
 A Junior French Grammar. By L. A. Sornet and M. J. Acatos. Crown Zro. 2s. 
 Elementary Experimental Science. Physics by W. T. Clough, A.R.C.S. Chemistry 
 
 by A. E. Dunstan, B.Sc. With 2 Plates and 154 Diagrams. Crown Zvo. 2s. 6d. 
 A Junior Geometrv. By Nod S. Lydon. With 230 Diagrams. Crown Zvo. 2s. 
 *A Junior Magnetism and Electricity. By W. T. Clough. With many Illustrations. 
 
 Crown 5z'0. 2s. 6d. 
 *Elementary Experimental Chemistry. By A. E. Dunstan, B.Sc. With many Illus- 
 trations. Crown 870. 2s. 
 A Junior French Prose. By R. R. N. Baron, M.A. Crown ivo. 2s. 
 "The Gospel According to St. Luke. With an Introduction and Notes by William 
 
 Williamson, B.A. With Three Maps. Crown Svo. is. 6d.
 
 20 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 Leaders of Religion 
 
 Edited by H. C. BEECHING, M.A , Canon of Westminster. With Portraits. 
 
 tm 8: v. is. net. 
 A series of short biographies of the most prominent leaders of religious life 
 and thought of all ages and countries. 
 
 William Laid. By W. H. Hutton, M.A. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 John Knox, By F. MacCunn. Second Edition. 
 Iohn Howf. By R. f. llorton, D.I) 
 Bishop Kb*. By l . A. Clarke, M.A. 
 George Fox, thr Quaker. ByT. Hodgkin, 
 
 D.C.L. 
 John Donne. By Augustus Jessopp, D.D. 
 Thomas Crasmi-.r. By A. J. Mason, D.D. 
 Bishop Latimer. By K. M. Carlyle and A. 
 
 J. Carlyle, M.A. 
 Bishop Butler. By W. A. Spooner, M.A. 
 
 Cardinal Newman. By R. H. Hutton. 
 JohmWbslky. l . I. H. Overton, M.A. 
 Bishop Wildbrforck. By G. W. Daniell, 
 
 M.A. 
 Cardinal Mannino. By A. W. Hutton, M.A. 
 i'imrlks Si ikon. By H. C. G. Motile, D.D. 
 [OHM Keui.k. By Walter Lock, D.D. 
 Thomas Chalmers. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 Lancelot Andrewes. By R. L. Ottley, 
 
 D. D. Second Edition. 
 Augustine of Canterbury. By 1 I 
 
 Cutts, D.D. 
 
 Little Blue Books, The 
 
 General Editor, E. V. LUCAS. 
 Illustrated. Demy \6mo. 2s. 6 J. 
 
 A series of books for children. The aim of the editor is to get entertaining or 
 exciting stories about normal children, the moral of which is implied rather than 
 expressed, 
 i. The Castaways of Meadowbank. By Thomas Cobb. 
 
 The Beechnut Book. By Jacob Abbott. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 
 
 The Air Gun. By T. Hilbert. 
 
 A School Year. By Netta Syrett. 
 
 The Peeles at the Capital. By Roger Ashton. 
 
 The Treasure of Princegate Priory. ByT. Cobb. 
 
 Mrs. Babbbrry'S GkNBBAX Shop. By Roger Ashton. 
 
 A Book of Bad Children. By W. T. Webb. 
 
 The Lost Ball. By rhumbs Cobb. 
 
 Little Books on Art 
 
 With many Illustrations. Demy \6tno. 2s. 6J. net. 
 A series of monographs in miniature, containing the complete outline of the 
 subject under treatment and rejecting minute details. These books are produced 
 with the greatest care 1 u h volume consists of about 200 pages, and contains from 
 30 to 40 illustrations, including a frontispiece in photogravure. 
 
 Greek Art. H. B. Walters. 
 
 Bookplates. E. Almack. 
 
 Keynolds. J. Sime. 
 
 Komney. C< irge Paston. 
 
 Watts. Miss R. K. D. Sketchley. 
 
 I.pighton. Alice Corkran. 
 
 \ 1 LASQUKZ, Wilfrid Wilberfone a 
 
 Gilbert. 
 Greuze and Boucher. Eliza F. Pollard, 
 Vandvck. M. G. S.mallwood. 
 
 R. 
 
 Turner. F. Tyrell-Gill. 
 D< rer. Jessie Allen. 
 Hoppner. H. P. K.. Skipton. 
 Holbein. Mrs. *'■. Fortescue. 
 
 -Jones. Roi ranee de Lisle. 
 
 IBRANDT. Mr^. E. A. Sharp 
 1 '.iij.rr. Alice Pollard and Ethel Birnstingl. 
 Millet. Netta Peacock. 
 ' K.uiiaf.i. A. R. Dryhurst. 
 
 Illuminated MSS. J. W. Bradley. 
 
 Little Galleries, The 
 
 Demy 16 •no. 2s. 6J. vet. 
 A seiies of little books containing examples of the best work of the great painters. 
 Each volume contains 20 plat' s in photogravure, together with a short outline of the 
 life and work of the master to whom the book is devoted. 
 
 A LirrLR Gallery or Reynolds. A I.iiile Gallery ok Hoppnrk. 
 
 A Lit tlr Gallery ok Romnby. \ 1 iitlk Gallery of Millau, 
 
 A I it 1 1 e < i \li 1 ky ■ mi .11 11 Ports.
 
 General Literature 27 
 
 Little Guides, The 
 
 Small Po ft 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. vet.; leather, 3*. 6d. net. 
 Oxford and its Colleges. By J. Wells, M.A. Illustrated by E. H. New, Fourth 
 
 Edition. 
 Cambridge and its Colleges. By A. Hamilton Thompson. Second Edition. Illustrated 
 
 byE. H. New. 
 The Malvern Country. By B. C. A. Windle, D.Sc, F.R.S. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 Shakespeare's Country. By B. C. A. Windle, D.Sc, F.R.S. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 Sussex. By F. G. Brabant, M.A. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 Westminster Abbey. By G. E. Troutbeck. Illustrated by F. D. Eedford. 
 Norfolk. By W A. Dutt. Illustrated by B. C. Boulter. 
 Cornwall. By A. L. Salmon. Illustrated by B. C. Boulter. 
 Brittany. By S. Baring-Gould. Illustrated by J. Wylie. 
 Hertfordshire. By H. W. Tompkins, F.R.H.S. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 The English Lakes. By F. G. Brabant, M.A. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 Kent. By G. Clinch. Illustrated by F. D. Bedford. 
 Rome By C. G Ellaby. Illustrated by B. C. Boulter. 
 The Isle of Wight. By G. Clinch. Illustrated by F. D. Bedford. 
 Surrey. By F. A. H. Lambert. Illustrated by E. H. New. 
 Buckinghamshire. By E. S. Roscoe. Illustrated by F. D. Bedford. 
 Suffolk. By W. A. Dutt. Illustrated by J. Wylie. 
 Derbyshire. By J. C. Cox, LL.D., F.S.A. Illustrated by J. C. Wall. 
 The North Riding of Yorkshire. By J. E. Morris. Illustrated by R. J. S. Bertram. 
 Hampshire. By J. C. Cox. Illustrated by M. E. Purser. 
 Sicily. By F. H. Jackson. With many Illustrations by the Author. 
 "Dorset. By Frank R. Heath. Illustrated. 
 *Cheshire. By W. M. Gallichan. Illustrated by Elizabeth Hartley. 
 
 Little Library, The 
 
 With Introductions, Notes, and Photogravure Frontispieces. 
 Small Pott Svo. Each Volume, cloth, is. 6d. net ; leather, 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 A series of small books under the above title, containing some of the famous works 
 in English and other literatures, in the domains of fiction, poetry, and belles lettres. 
 The series also contains volumes of selections in prose and verse. 
 
 The books are edited with the most sympathetic and scholarly care. Each one 
 contains an introduction which gives (1) a short biography of the author; (2) a 
 critical estimate of the book. Where they are necessary, short notes are added at 
 the foot of the page. 
 
 Each volume has a photogravure frontispiece, and the books are produced with 
 great care. 
 
 English Lyrics, A Little Book of. Anon. 
 
 Pride and Prejudice. By Jane Austen. Edited by E. V. Lucas. Two Volumes. 
 Northanger Abbey. By Jane Austen. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 
 The Essays of Lord Bacon. Edited by Edward Wright. 
 
 The Ingolsby Legends. By R. H. Barham. Edited by J. B. Atlay. T'.vc Volumes. 
 A Little Book of English Prose. Edited by Mrs. P. A. Barnett. 
 
 The History of the Chliph Vathek. By William Beckford. Edited by E. Denison Ross. 
 >f.lections from William Blake. Edited by M. Perugini. 
 Lavengro. By George Borrow. Edited by F. Hindes Groome. Two Volumes. 
 The Romany Rye. By George Borrow. Edited by John Sampson. 
 
 Selections from the Early Poems of Robert Browning. Edited by W. H?ll Griffin, M.A. 
 Selections from the Anti-Jacolin ; with George Canning's additional Poems. Edited by 
 
 Lloyd Sanders. 
 The Essays of Abraham Cowley. Edited by H. C. Minchin. 
 Selections from George Crabbe. Edited by A. C. Deane. 
 
 John Halifax Gentleman. By Mrs. Craik. Kdited by Annie Matheson. Two Volumes. 
 The English Poems of Richard Crawshaw. Edited by Edward Hutton. 
 The Inferno of Dante. Translated by II. F. Cary. Edited by Paget Toynbee. M.A., 
 
 D.Litt. 
 The Purgatorio of Dante. Translated by H. F. Cary. Edited by Paget Toynbee. M.A. 
 
 D.Litt.
 
 28 Messrs Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 The Paradiso of Dantf. Translated by H. F. Cary. Edited by Paget Toynbce, M.A.. 
 
 D.Litt. 
 Selections from THE Pobms of Grorgb Dakley. Edited by k. A. Streatfeild. 
 A Lit i lb Book of I se. Edited by A CD 
 
 Maukiagr. By Sana Ferrier. Edited by Mia* Goodrich Freer and Lord Iddesleigh. 
 
 Volumes. 
 The INHERITANCE. Bj Susan terrier. Edited by Miss Goodrich Freer and I .jd Iddesleigh. 
 
 / ;io I oiumes. 
 
 d. BV Mrs. Gaskell. Edited by E. V. Lucas. Stand Edition. 
 I HH SCARLET LBT1 RS. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. F.dited by Percy Denrmer. 
 \ Little Bo ■>: OF SCOTTISH VbRSE. Edited by T. F. Hendei- 
 
 Poems. )iy John Keats. With an Litr.jdncti.jii by L. Binyon and Notes bv J. Masi hi id. 
 Eothkn. By A. W. Kinglake. With an Introduction and Notes. Second Edition. 
 Ei.ia, and i in: LAST Ens VYS OP Ei.ia. By Charles Lanib. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 
 London Lvrics. Bv I . Loi kcr. Edited by A. D. Codley, M.A. 
 
 A reprint of the First Edition. 
 Selections from Longfellow. Edited by L. M. Paithfull. 
 Tkb Poems of Andrew Marvell, Edited by E. Wi 
 
 The Minor POEMS ok John .Milton. Edited by II. ( . Bl BCHINC, M.A. 
 Mansib Walxh. By 1>. M. M iir. Edited by T. F. Hende 
 A Little Book of English Sonnets. Edited by J. B. B. Ni> hols. 
 The Maxims of la Rochepoucai (ld. Translated by Dean Stanhope. Edited by C. II. 
 
 Powell. 
 Rl :ecteu ADDRESSES. By Horace and James Smith. Edited by A. D. Godley. M.A. 
 A Sentimental Journey. By Laurence Sterne. lidited by H. W. Paul. 
 Tin: Early Poems of Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Edited by J. Churton Collins. M.A. 
 I . Mbmoriah. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Edited by H. C. Beeching, M.A. 
 The Princess. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Edited by Elizabeth Wordsworth. 
 Maud. By Alfred, Lurd Tennyson. Edited by Elizabeth Wordsworth. 
 Vanity Fair. By W. M. Thackeray. Edited by S. Gywnn. Three Volumes. 
 I'indennis. By W. M. Thackeray. Edited by S. Gwynn. Three Volumes. 
 i mono. By w. M. Thackeray. Edited by S. Gwynn. 
 Christmas Books. By W, M. Thackeray. Edited" by S. Gwynn. 
 The Poems of Henry VaUGHAN. Edited by Edward Hutton. 
 The Compleat Anoi i I.. By Izaak Walton. Edited by 1. Buchan. 
 
 A Little Book of Life and Death. Edited by Mrs. Alfred Waterhouse. Sixth Edition. 
 Si I BCTIONS i ROM WORDSWORTH. Edited by Nowcll C. Smith. 
 Lyrical P.ai i .^ds. I'.y W. Wordsworth and S. T. Coleridge. Edited by George Sampson. 
 
 Miniature Library, Methuen's 
 
 Reprints in miniature of a few interesting books which have qualities of 
 
 humanity, devotion, or literary genius. 
 
 Euphranok : A Dialogue on Youth. By Edward FitzGerald. From the edition published by 
 
 W. Pickering in 1851. Demy yimo. Leather, ?.r. tut. 
 Polonius: or Wise Saws and Modem Instances. By Edward FitzGerald. From the edition 
 
 published by W. Pi kerins in 185 •. Demy 321*0. Leather, is. net. 
 The Rubaiyat of Omar KHAYYAM. By Edward FitzGerald. From the 1st edition of 1859, 
 
 Second Edition. Leather, as. net. 
 The Life cf Edward, Lord Herbert of Cherri-iov. Written by himself. From the 
 
 edition printed at Strawberry lull in the year 1764. Medium yamo, Le.ither, ?.c. net. 
 The Visions of Dom I dQ do Viii.ei.as, Knight of the Order of St. James 
 
 Made English by R. 1 . From the edition printed for II. Herringman 1668. Leaf 
 
 ?s. net. 
 P im. r. !> raGreenwell. From the edition of 1848. Leather, 2s. net. 
 
 The Oxford Biographies 
 
 Fcap. Srv>. E,uh volume, cloth, 2s. 6d. net; leather, 3*. 6d. vet. 
 These books an- written dv scholars of repute, who combine knowledge and 
 literary skill with the power of popular presentation. They are illustrated from 
 authentic materia). 
 
 Dante Aligiiieri. Bv Paget Tovnbee, M.A., D.Litt. With ia Illustrations. Second Edition. 
 Savonarola. By E. I rforsbui rh, M.A. With 17 Illustrations. Second Edition. 
 
 John Howard. Ly E. C S. Gibson, D. D Vie-i of Leeds. With 12 lllustratiui^>.
 
 General Literature 29 
 
 Tennyson. By A. C. Benson, M.A. With 9 Illustrations. 
 
 Waltek Raleigh. By I. A. Taylor. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 ERASMUS. By E. F. H. Capey. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 The Young Pretender. By C. S. Terry. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 Robert Burns. By T. F. Henderson. With la Illustrations. 
 
 Chatham. By A. S. M'Dowall. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 St. Francis of Assisi. By Anna M. Stoddart. With 16 Illustrations. 
 
 Canning. By W. A. Phillips. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 Beacoxsfield. By Walter Sichel. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 Goethe. By H. G. Atkins. With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 School Examination Series 
 
 Edited by A. M. M. STEDMAN, M.A. Crown Svo. zs. 6J. 
 
 French Examination Papers. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Thirteenth Edition. 
 
 A Key, issued to Tutors and Private Students only to be had on application to the 
 Publishers. Fifth Edition. Cr<mm%vo. 6s.net. 
 Latin Examination Papers. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Twelfth Edition. 
 
 Key (Fourth Edition) issued as above. 6s. net. 
 < Ikeek Examination Papers. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Seventh Edition. 
 
 Key {Second Edition) issued as above. 6s. net. 
 German Examination Papers. By R. J. Morich. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Key (Second Edition) issued as above. 6s. net. 
 History and Geography Examination Papers. By C. H. Spence, M.A. Second Edition. 
 Physics Examination Papers. By R. E. Steel, M.A., F.C.S. 
 
 General Knowledge Examination Papers. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Fourth 
 Edition. 
 
 Key ( Third Edition) u-sued as above. 7.S. net. 
 Examination Papers in English History. By J. Tait Plowden-Wardlaw, B.A. 
 
 Social Questions of To-day 
 
 Edited by H. DE B. GIBBIXS, Litt.D., M.A. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 A series of volumes upon those topics of social, economic, and industrial interest 
 that are foremost in the public mind. 
 
 Each volume is written by an author who is an acknowledged authority upon the 
 subject with which he deals. 
 
 Trade Unionism — New and Old. By G. Howell. Third Edition. 
 The Co-operative Movement To-day. By G. J. Holyoake. Fourth Edition. 
 Mutual Thrift. By J. Frame Wilkinson, M.A. 
 Problems of Poverty. By J. A. Hobson, M.A. Fourth Edition. 
 The Commerce of Nations. By C. F. Bastable, M.A. Third Edition. 
 The Alien Invasion. By W. H. Wilkins, B.A. 
 The Rural Exodus. By P. Anderson Graham. 
 Land Nationalization. By Harold Cox, B.A. 
 A Shorter Working Day, By H. de Gibbins and R. A. Hadlield. 
 Back to the Land. An Inquiry into Rural Depopulation. By H. E. Moore. 
 Trusts, Pools, and Corners. By J. Stephen Jeans. 
 The Factoky System. By R. W. Cooke-Taylor. 
 The State and its Children. By Gertrude Tuckwell. 
 Women's Work. By Lady Dilke, Miss Bulley, and Miss Whitley. 
 Socialism and Modkkn Thought. By M. Rauffmann. 
 The Problem of the Unemployed. By J. A. Hobson, M.A. 
 Life in West London. By Arthur Sherwell, M.A. Third Edition. 
 Railway Nationalization. By Clement Edwards. 
 Workhouses and Pauperism. By Louisa Twining. 
 University and Social Settlements. By W. Reason, M.A. 
 
 Technology, Textbooks of 
 
 Edited by Professor J. WERTHEIMER, F.I.C. 
 Fully Illustrated. 
 How to Make a Dress. By J. A. E. Wood. Third Edition. Crown Svo. is. 6d. 
 Carpentry and Joinery. By F. C. Webber. Third Edition. Cro^vn%vo. 3s. 6d. 
 Practical Mechanics. By Sidney H. Wells. Second Edition. Croivn Zvo. 3s. 6d.
 
 30 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 Pra« tical Physics. Hy 11. Stroad, D.& ■, M.A. I n .'« 6vo. $s. 6J. 
 Millinery, Ti Practical. By Clare Hill. Second Edition. < 
 
 Practical Cnii.MiM kv. Part l ByW. French, M.A. ( roumOoc. Second Edition, u.ftd. 
 Practical Chemistry. I'.ut II. By W. French, M.A., and T. II. Boardman, M.A 
 
 Croiun 8t'C. is. 6d. 
 
 Tbchnical Arithmetic and Geometry. By C T. Millis, M.I.M.E. . 6d. 
 
 An Introduction to the Study or Textile Desk.-. ByAldred P. Barker. Demyivo. 
 
 js. 6ti. 
 Builders' Quantitii s. By II. C. Grobb. Crown Sr<\ +s. 6d. 
 
 "Mi i Ai. Work (RePOUSSSJ. I'.y A. C. Ilorth. Cro".vnZvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Theology, Handbooks of 
 
 Edited by R. L. OttLSY, D.D., Professor of Pastoral Theology at Oxford, 
 
 and Canon of Christ Church, Oxford. 
 
 The series is intended, in part, to furnish the clergy and teachers or students of 
 Theology with trustworthy Text-books, adequately representing the present position 
 of the questions dealt with; in part, to make accessible to the reading public an 
 accurate and concise Statement of facts and principles in all questions bearing on 
 Theology and Religion. 
 The XXXIX. Articles of the Church ok Km. land. Edited by K. C. S. Gibson, D.D. 
 
 Third and Cheaper Edition in one Volume. Demy 8t' ( >. \is. 6d. 
 An Introduction to the History of Religion. By F. B. Jcvons, M.A.. l.itt.D. Third 
 
 Edition. Demy %vo. las. 6d. 
 The Doctrine of the Incarnati"-.. By R. I.. Ottley, J >. D. Second and Cheaper Edition. 
 
 Demy 8n>. 1 W. 6d. 
 An Introduction to the History of the Creeds. By A. K. Bum, B.I). Pan) 
 
 10s. td. 
 The Philosophy of Religion in England and America. By Alfred Caldecott, D.D. 
 
 Demy Zvo. \o\. <V. 
 A History of Early Christian Doctrine. By J. 1". Bethune Baker, M.A. Demy 
 
 ior. 6d. 
 
 Methuen's Universal Library 
 
 Edited by SIDNEY LEE. In Sixpenny Volumes. 
 Messrs. METHUEN are preparing a new series of reprints containing both bonks of classical 
 repute, which are aocessiMein various forms, and also some rarer books, of which no satisfactory 
 edition at a moderate price is in existence. It is their ambition to place the best books of all 
 nations, and paiticularly of the Anglo-Saxon race, within the reach of every reader. All the 
 great masters of Poetry, Drama, Fiction, History, Biography, and Philosophy will be 1 
 sented. Mr. Sidney Lee will be the General Editor of the Library, and bo will contribute a 
 Note to each book. 
 
 The characteristics of MkTHI 1 N's UNIVERSAL LIBRARY arc live : — 
 
 1. Sound: 1 so Text. A pure and unabridged text is the primary object of the series, 
 
 the books will be carefully reprinted under the direction of competent scholars from the 
 ' est editions. In a series intended for popular use not less than for students, adherence to the 
 old spelling would in many cases leave the matter unintelligible to ordinary readers, and, as the 
 appeal of a classic is universal, the spelling has in general been modernised. 
 
 2. Compli 11 'ESS. Where it seems advisable, the complete works of such masters as Mill 
 Bacon, Ben Jouson and Sir Thomas Browne will be given. These will be issued in separate- 
 volumes, so that the reader who d oes not desire all the works of an author will have the oppor- 
 tunity of acquit big a single masterpiece. 
 
 3. Cheapness. The books will be well pri paper at a.prii ewhii b on the whole 
 is without parallel in the history ofpublishing. La. b volume Will contain from 100 to 350 pi 
 and will be issued in paper covers, Crown 8vo, at Sixpence net. In a few cases a long book v iil 
 
 e i -urd as a I >ouble Volume at One Shilling net. 
 
 4. Clearness of Type. The type will be a very legible one. 
 
 5. SIMPLICITY. There will be no editorial maitcr except a short biographical and biblio- 
 graphical note by Mr. Sidney Lee at the beginning of each volume. 
 
 The volumes may also be obtained in cloth at One Shilling net, or in the case of a Double 
 Volume at One and Sixpence net. Thus Tom Jones maybe bought in a Double paper volume 
 at One Shilling net, or in one cloth volume at is. 6d. net. 
 
 The Library will be issued at regular intervals after the publication of the first six books, all 
 of which will be published together. Due notice will be given "f ; issues. The orders
 
 General Literature 31 
 
 of publication will be arranged to give as much variety of subject as possible, and the volume 
 composing the complete works of an author will be issued at convenient intervals. 
 
 These are the early Books, all of which are in the Press. 
 The Works of William Shakespeare. In 10 volumes. 
 
 Vol. i.— The Tempest; The Two Gentlemen of Verona ; The Merry Wives of Windsor; 
 Measure for Measure ; The Comedy of Errors. 
 
 Vol. 11.— Much Ado About Nothing ; Love's Labour's Lost ; A Midsummer Nights' Dream ; 
 The Merchant of Venice ; As You Like It. 
 
 Vol. hi.— The Taming of the Shrew; All's Well that Ends Well; Twelfth Night; The 
 Winter's Tale. 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. By John Bunyan. 
 The Novels ok Jane Austen. In 5 volumes. 
 
 Vol. 1. — Sense and Sensibility. 
 The English Works of Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam. 
 
 Vol. I. — Essays and Counsels and the New Atlantis. 
 The Poems and Plays of Oliver Goldsmith. 
 On the Imitation of Christ. By Thomas a Kempis. 
 The Works of Ben Johnson. In about 12 volumes. 
 
 Vol. 1. — The Case is Altered ; Every Man in His Humour ; Every Man out of His Humour, 
 The Prose Works of John Milton. 
 
 Vol. 1. — Eikonoklastes and The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. 
 Select Works of Edmund Burke. 
 
 Vol. I. — Reflections on the French Revolution 
 
 Vol. 11. — Speeches on America. 
 The Works of Henry Fielding. 
 
 Vol. I. — Tom Jones. (Double Volume.) 
 
 Vol. II. — Amelia. (Double Volume. ) 
 The Poems of Thomas Chatterto.n. In 2 volumes. 
 
 Vol. 1. — Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
 Vol. 11. — The Rowley Poems. 
 Tut Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. Translated by R. Graves. 
 The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By Edward Gibbon. 
 
 In 7 volumes. 
 The Notes have been revised by J. B. Bury, Litt.D. 
 The Plays of Christopher Marlowe. 
 
 Vol. I. — Tamburlane the Great ; The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus. 
 
 Vol. 11. — The Jew of Malta : Edward the Second ; The Massacre at Paris; The Tragedy of 
 Dido. 
 The Natural History and Antiquities of Selbokne. By Gilbert White. 
 The Complete Angler. In 2 volumes. 
 
 Vol. 1.— By Izaak Walton. 
 
 Vol. 11. — Part 2, by Cotton, and Part 3 by Venables. 
 The Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley. In 4 volumes. 
 
 _ Vol. I. — Alastor; The Daemon of the World ; The Revolt of Islam, etc. 
 The Works of Sir Thomas Browne. In 6 volumes. 
 
 Vol. 1.— Religio Medici and Urn Burial. 
 The Poems of John Milton. In 2 volumes. 
 
 Vol. I. — Paradise Lost. 
 
 Vol. 11. — Miscellaneous Poems and Paradise Regained. 
 Humphrey Clinker. By T. G. Smollett. 
 Select Works of Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Vol. I. — Utopia and Poems. 
 The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed. By Joseph Butler, D.D. 
 On Human Understanding. By John Locke. In 3 volumes. 
 The Poems of John Keats. In 2 volumes. 
 The Divine Comedy of Dante. The Italian Text edited by Paget Toynbee, M.A., D.Litt. 
 
 (A Double Volume.) 
 
 Westminster Commentaries, The 
 
 General Editor, WALTER LOCK, D.D., Warden of Keble College, 
 
 Dean Ireland's Professor of Exegesis in the University of Oxford. 
 
 The object of each commentary is primarily exegetical, to interpret the author's 
 
 meaning to the present generation. The editors will not deal, except very subor- 
 
 dinately, with questions of textual criticism or philology ; but, taking the English
 
 32 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 t<-\t in the Revised Version as their l>.i is, they will try to combine .1 hearty accept- 
 ance of critical principles with I ' .uliolic Faith. 
 The Book ok 1 1 Edited with Introduction and Notes by S. R. Driver, D.D. Third 
 
 .ion Demy Svo. n>*. &/. 
 I in: Book of Jor. Edi C. S Gibson. D.D. Second Edition. Demy %-.'o. 6s. 
 
 The Acts ok THE ' Edited by I-'. B I' jcham, M. \. Demy $vo. Second mid 
 
 Cheaper Edition. \os. 6d. 
 The First Epistle op Paul nik Apostli ro nm Corinthians, l-.uited by H. I. 
 
 Soudge, M.A. DemyZoo. 6s. 
 tin Epistle oi St. Jam] . Edited with Introduction and Notes by R. J. Knowling, M.A. 
 Dar.y %vo. 6s. 
 
 Part II. — Fiction 
 
 Marie Corelli's Novels 
 Crown 87/0. 6.f. each. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. Twenty-Fifth Edition. 
 
 VENDE I "I A. Twenty-First Edition. 
 
 TH ELM A. Thirty-First Edition. 
 
 ARDATI1 : THE STORY OK A DEAD SELF. Fifteenth Edition. 
 
 rHESOULOF 1.11.11 H. Twcifth Edition. 
 
 WORMWOOD. Fourteenth Edition. 
 
 BARABBAS: A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY. Thirty-Ninth Edition. 
 
 ' The tender reverence of the treatment and the imaginative heauty of the writing have 
 reconciled us to the daring of the conception. This "Dream of the World's Tragedy" 
 is a lofty and not inadequate paraphrase of the supreme climax of the inspired narra- 
 tive.' — Dublin Review. 
 THE SORROWS OK SATAN. Forty-Eighth Edition. 
 
 'A very powerful piece of work The conception is magnificent, and is likely 
 
 to win an abiding place within the memory of man. . . . The author has immense command 
 of language, and a limitless audacity. . . . This interesting and remarkable romance will 
 live long after much of the ephemeral literature of the day is forgotten. ... A literary 
 phenomenon . . . novel, and even sublime.' — W. T. Stead in the Review of Re'iews. 
 THE MASTER CHRISTIAN. [165M Thousand. 
 
 1 It cannot be denied that "The Master Christian" is a powerful book; that it is one 
 likely to raise uncomfortable questions in all but the most self-satisfied readers, . 
 that it strikes at the root _ of the failure of the Churches— the decay of faith— in a 
 manner which shows the inevitable disaster heaping up 1 . . The good Cardinal Honpre is a 
 beautiful figure, fit to stand beside the good Ui^hop in " Les Miserables." It i^ a b 
 with a serious purpose expressed with absolute unconvenlionaliiy and passion . . . And this 
 is to say it is a book worth reading.' — Examiner. 
 "TEMPORAL POWER: A ST1 DY IN SUPREMACY. [150/// Thousand. 
 
 ' It is impossible to read such a work as "Temporal Power without becoming convinced 
 that the story is intended to convey certain criticisms on the ways of the world and certain 
 :1011s for the betterment of humanity. ... If the chief intention of the book was to 
 Id the minor up to shams, injustice, dishonesty, cruelty, and neglect of conscience, 
 thing but praise can b 1 1 that intention.' — Morning Post. 
 
 GOD'S GOOD MAN : A SIMP] 1 LOVE STORY. Sixth Edition. 
 
 Anthony Hope's Novels 
 Crown 87 V. 6s. each. 
 
 THE GOD IV I HI. CAR. Tenth Edition. 
 
 'A very remarkable book, deserving of critical analysis impossible within our limit; 
 brilliant, but not superficial ; well considered, but not elaborated ; constructed with 
 the proverbial art that conceals, but yet allows itself to be enjoyed by readers to whom 
 fine literary method is a keen pleasure.'— The World. 
 A CH ANGE OK AIR. Sixth Edition. 
 
 'A graceful, vivacious comedy, true to human nature. The characters are traced with a 
 masterly hand.' — Times. 
 A MAN OK MARK. Fifth Edition. 
 
 'Of all Mr. Hope's books, "A Man of Mark" is the one which be*t compares with 
 The Prisoner of Zenda." ' — Xatienai Observer.
 
 Fiction 33 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO. Fifth Edition. 
 
 'It is a perfectly enchanting story of love and chivalry, and pare romance. The Count 
 is the most constant, desperate, and modest and tender of lovers, a peerless gentleman, 
 an intrepid fighter, a faithful friend, and a magnanimous foe.' — Guardian. 
 PHROSO. Illustrated by H. R. Millar. Sixth Edition. 
 
 ' The tale is thoroughly fresh, quick with vitality, stirring the blood.' — St. James s Gazette. 
 SIMON DALE. Illustrated. Sixth Edition. 
 
 'There is searching analysis of human nature, with a most ingeniously constructed plot. 
 Mr. Hope has drawn the contrasts of his women with marvellous subtlety and delicacy.' 
 — Times. 
 THE KING'S MIRROR. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' In elegance, delicacy, and tact it ranks with the best of his novels, while in the wide 
 range of its portraiture and the subtilty of its analysis it surpasses all his earlier ventures. ' 
 — Spectator. 
 QUISANTE. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' The book is notable for a very high literary quality, and an impress of power and 
 mastery on every page.' — Daily Chronicle, 
 THE DOLLY DIALOGUES. 
 
 W. W. Jacobs' Novels 
 
 Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 MANY CARGOES. Twenty-Seventh Edition. 
 
 SEA URCHINS. Eleventh Edition. 
 
 A MASTER OF CRAFT. Illustrated. Sixth Edition. 
 
 1 Can be unreservedly recommended to all who have not lost their appetite for wholesome 
 laughter. ' — Spectator. 
 
 ' The best humorous book published for many a day.' — Black and White. 
 LIGHT FREIGHTS. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' His wit and humour are perfectly irresistible. Mr. Jacobs writes of skippers, and mates, 
 ai.d seamen, and his crew are the jolliest lot that ever sailed.' — Daily News. 
 
 ' Laughter in every page.' — Daily Mail. 
 
 Lucas Malet's Novels 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. each. 
 
 COLONEL ENDERBY'SWIFE. Third Edition. 
 A COUNSEL OF PERFECTION. New Edition. 
 LITTLE PETER. Second Edition, y. 6d. 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. Fourteenth Edition. 
 THE CARISSIMA. Fourth Edition. 
 THE GATELESS BARRIER. _ Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' In " The Gateless Barrier " it is at once evident that, whilst Lucas Malet has preserved 
 her birthright of originality, the artistry, the actual writing, is above even the high level of 
 the books that were born before.' — Westminster Gazette. 
 THE HISTORY OF SIR RICHARD CALMADY. Seventh Edition. A Limited 
 Edition in Two Volumes. Crown Svo. 12s. 
 
 'A picture finely and amply conceived. In the strength and insight in which the story 
 has been conceived, in the wealth of fancy and reflection bestowed upon its execution, 
 and in the moving sincerity of its pathos throughout, "Sir Richard Calmady" must rank a~ 
 the great novel of a great writer.' — Literature. 
 
 'The ripest fruit of Lucas Malet's genius. A picture of maternal love by turns tender 
 and terrible.' — Spectator. 
 
 'A remarkably fine book, with a noble motive and a sound conclusion.' — Pilot. 
 
 Gilbert Parker's Novels 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. Fifth Edition. 
 
 'Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr 
 Parker's style.' — Daily Telegraph. 
 MRS. FALCHION. Fifth Edition. 
 
 ' A splendid study of character.' — Athenttum. 
 THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. Second Edition. 
 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. Illustrated. Eighth Edition. 
 
 'A rousing and dramatic tale. A book like this is a joy inexpressible.' — Daily Chronicle.
 
 34 Messrs. Metiiuen's Catalogue 
 
 WHEN VALMOND CAME rO PONTIAC: The Story of a Lost Napoleon. Fifth 
 Edition. 
 
 ' Here we find romance — real, breathing, living romance. The character of Valmond 
 is drawn unerringly.' — Pall Mall Ga -.ette 
 \X ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH: The Last Adventures of 'Pretty Pieir. ' 
 Third Edition. 
 ' The present hook is full of fine and moving stories of the great North.' — Glasgow Herald. 
 I HE SKATS OF THE MIGHTY. Illustrated. Thirteenth Editum. 
 ' Mr. Parker has produced a really fine historical novel.' — Atheturum. 
 ' A grt-at book.' — Black and II Ait*. 
 I UK BATTLE OF THE STRONG : a Romance of Two Kingdoms. Illustrated, to 
 Edition. 
 
 1 Nothing more vigorous or more human has come from Mr. Gilbert Parker than this 
 novel.' — Literature. 
 
 THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES. Second Edition. 3 s. 6d. 
 
 'Unforced pathos, and a deeper knowledge of human nature than he has displayed before.' 
 —Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Arthur Morrison's Novels 
 Crown &vo. 6s. each. 
 
 TALES OF MI. AN STREETS. Sixth Edition. 
 
 ' A great book. The author's method is amazingly effective, and produces a thrilling 
 sense of reality. The writer lays upon us a master hand. The book is simply appalling 
 and irresistible in its interest. It is humorous also ; without humour it would not make the 
 mark it is certain to make.' — Weld. 
 A CHILD OK THE JAGO. Fourth Edition. 
 
 ' The book is a masterpiece.'— Pall Mali Gazette. 
 TO LONDON TOWN. Second Edition. 
 
 'This is the new Mr. Arthur Morrison, gracious and tender, sympathetic and human.' — 
 Daily Telegraph. 
 ' INNING MURRELL. 
 
 ' Admirable. . . Delightful humorous relief ... a most artistic and satisfactory 
 achievement.' — Spectator. 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL. Third Edition. 
 
 'A masterpiece of artistic realism. It has a finality of touch that only a master may 
 command.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 ' An absolute masterpiece, which any novelist might be proud to claim.'— Graphic. 
 ' "The Hole in the Wall" is a masterly piece of work. His characters are drawn with 
 amazing skill. Extraordinary power.' — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Eden Phillpotts' Novels 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. each. 
 LYING PROPHETS. 
 
 CHILDREN OK THE MIST. Fifth Edition. 
 THE HUMAN BOY. With a Krontispiecc. Fourth Edition 
 
 'Mr. Phillpotts knows exactly what school-boys do, and can lay bare their inmost 
 thoughts ; likewise he shows an all-pervading sense of humour. ' — Academy. 
 SONS OF THE MORN INC. Second Edition. 
 
 ' A book of stranvzo power and fascination.' — Morning Post. 
 THE STRIKING HOl'RS. Second Edition. 
 
 ' Tragedy and comedy, pathos and humour, are blended to a nicety in this volume.' — World. 
 ' The whole book is redolent of a fresher and ampler air than breathes in the circumscribed 
 life of great towns.' — Spectator. 
 THE RIVER. Third Edition. 
 
 '"The River" places Mr. Phillpotts in the front rank of living novelists '—Punch. 
 ' Since " Lorna Doone" we have had nothing so picturesque as this new romance.' — Sir. 
 fni'ifham Gazette. 
 
 ' Mr. Phillpotts's new book is a masterpiece which brings him indisputably into the front 
 rank of English novelists.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' This great romance of the River Dart. The finest book Mr. Ed«n Phillpotts has writ U .' 
 — Morning Post. 
 THE AMERICAN PRISONER. Third Edition. 
 THE SECRET WOMAN. Second Edition.
 
 Fiction 35 
 
 S. Baring-Gould's Novels 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 ARMINELL. Fifth Edition. THE PEXNYCOMEQUICKS. TterU 
 
 URITH. Fifth Edition. Edition. 
 
 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. Seventh 
 
 Edition. 
 CHEAP JACK ZITA. Fourth Edition. 
 MARGERY OF QUETHER. Third 
 
 Edition. 
 THE QUEEN OF LOVE. Fifth Edition. 
 TACQUETTA. Third Edition. 
 KITTY ALONE. Fifth Edition. 
 NOEMI. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 THE BROOM-SQUIRE. Illustrated. 
 
 Fourth Edition. 
 DARTMOOR IDYLLS. 
 
 GUAVAS THE TINNER. Illustrated. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 BLADYS. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 DOMITIA. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 PABO THE PRIEST. 
 
 WINIFRED. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 THE FROBISHERS. 
 ROYAL GEORGIE. Illustrated. 
 MISS QUILLET. Illustrated. 
 LITTLE TU'PENNY. A New Edition. 6d. 
 CHRIS OF ALL SORTS. 
 IN DEWISLAND. Second Edition. 
 
 Robert Barr's Novels 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS. Third Edition. 
 
 ' A book which has abundantly satisfied us by its capital humour.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 THE MUTABLE MANY. Second Edition. 
 
 ' There is much insight in it, and much excellent humour.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 THE YICTORS. 
 THE COUNTESS TEKLA. Third Edition. 
 
 ' Of these mediaeval romances, which are now gaining ground, "The Countess Tekla ' 
 is the very best we have seen.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 THE LADY ELECTRA. Second Edition. 
 THF TEMPESTUOUS PETTICOAT. 
 
 E. Maria Albanesi's Novels 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 SUSANNAH AND ONE OTHER. Fourth Edition. 
 THE BLUNDER OF AN INNOCENT. Second Edition. 
 CAPRICIOUS CAROLINE. Second Edition. 
 LOVE AND LOUISA. Second Edition. 
 PETER, A PARASITE. 
 
 B. M. Croker's Novels 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 ANGEL. Fourth Edition. 
 
 PEGGY OF THE BARTONS. Sixth Edit. 
 
 THE OLD CANTONMENT. 
 
 A STATE SECRET. Third Edition. 
 
 JOHANNA. Second Edition. 
 
 THE HAPPY VALLEY. Second Editio, 
 
 J. H. Findlater's Novels 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 THE GREEN GRAVES OF BALGOWRIE. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Mary Findlater's Novels 
 Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 \ NARROW WAY. Third Edition. THE ROSE OF JOY. Second Edition. 
 
 OVER THE HILLS. I 
 
 Robert Hichens' Novels 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 THE PROPHET OF BERKELEY SQUARE. Second Edition 
 
 TONGUES OF CONSCIENCE. Second Edition. 
 
 FELIX. Fourth Edition. 
 
 THE WOMAN WITH THE FAN. Fifth Edition. 
 
 BYEWAYS. w. td. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH Seventh Edition.
 
 36 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 Henry James's Novels 
 Crown %vo. 6.s'. each, 
 
 THE SOFT SIDK. Second Edition. I THE EMBASSADORS. 
 
 THE BETTER SORT. , THE GOLDEN BOWL. 
 
 Mary E. Mann's Novels 
 Crown Svo. 6s. each. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
 OLIVIA'S SUMMER. Second Edition. 
 A LOST ES 1ATE. A New Edition. 
 THE PARISH OF HILBY. A A 
 
 Edition. 
 *THE PARISH NURSE. 
 GRAN'MA'S JANE. 
 MRS. PETER HOWARD. 
 
 A WINTER'S TALE. A New Edition. 
 
 ONE ANOI HER - BURDENS, A 
 Edition. 
 
 THERE WAS ONCE A PRINCE. Illus- 
 trated. is. 6d. 
 
 WHEN ARNOLD COMES HOME. Illus- 
 trated, v- 6d. 
 
 W. Pett Ridge's Novels 
 Crown St'o. 6s. each. 
 
 LOST PROPERTY. Second Edition. 
 
 ERB. Second Edition. 
 
 A SON OF THE STATE. 3 s. 6d. 
 
 6d. 
 
 A BREAKER OF LAWS, y 
 MRS. GALER'S BUS1N1 
 SECRETARY TO BAYNE, M.P 
 
 i. 
 
 Adeline Sergeant's Novels 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. each. 
 
 THE MASTER OF BEECHWOOD. 
 BARBARA'S MONEY. Second Edition. 
 \NTHE.VS WAY. 
 THE YELLOW DIAMOND. Second 
 
 Edition. 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 
 
 THE LOVE THAT OVERCAME. 
 
 THE ENTHUS1 EST. 
 
 ACCUSED AND ACCUSER. Second 
 
 Edition. 
 THE PROGRESS OF RACHE1 . 
 TIIi': MYSTERY OF THE MOAT. 
 
 FROM 
 3-r. 6d. 
 
 BENGAL. Illustrated by 
 
 6s. 
 
 See also Sliil- 
 
 Albanesi (E. Maria). See page 35. 
 
 Anstey (F.), Author of 'Vice Versa.' A BAYARD 
 
 Bernard PARTRIDGE. Third Edition. Crown Svo. 
 Bacheller (Irving). Author of 'Eben Holden.' DARR'EL OF THE BLESS: 
 
 Third Edition. Crown Sr'<\ 6s. 
 Bagot (Richard). A ROMAN MYSTERY. Third Edition. Crown Svo. 
 BalfOUr (Andrew). See Shilling Novels. 
 Baring-Gould (S.). See page 35 and Shilli- N 
 Barlow (Jane). THE LAND OF THE SHAMROCK. Crownivo. 6s. 
 
 lint; Novels. 
 
 Barr (Robert). See p., ,c 15 and Shilling Novels. 
 
 Begbie (Harold). THE ADVENT1 RES 01 MR JOHN SPARROW. Crownivo. 6s. 
 BellOO (Hilairel. EMMANUEL BURDEN, MERCHANT, With 36 Illustration* by 
 
 G. K. Ciir.sTiiRTO.v. Second Edition. Crownivo. 6s. 
 Benson (E. F.). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Benson (Margaret). SUBJECT TO VANITY. c>w»8w. y.6d. 
 
 Besant (Sir Walter). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Bowles (C. Stewart). A STRET( II OIF THE LAND. Cre:un Svo. 
 
 Bullock (Snan. F.). THE SQUIREEN. CrownSvo. 6>. 
 
 THE RED LEAGUERS. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 See also Shilling Novels. 
 Burton (J. Bloundelle). THE YEAR ONE : 
 
 trated. Croivn Svo. 6s. 
 THE FATE OF VALSEC. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 A BRANDED NAME. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 See also Shilling Novels. 
 Capea (Bernard), Author of 'The Lake of Wine. 
 
 I ESSIONS OF DIANA PLEASE. Third Edition. CrovnSvo. 
 Che8ney (Weatherby). THE BAPTST RING. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 THE TRAGEDY OF THE GREAT EMERALD. CrownSvo. 6s. 
 
 A Page of l he French Revolution. Illus- 
 
 THE EXTRAORDINARY CON- 
 6s.
 
 Fiction 37 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF A BUNGALOW. Second Edition. Crown %vo. 6s. 
 Clifford (Hugh). A FREE LANCE OF TO-DAY. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 Clifford (Mrs.W. K.). See also Shilling Novels and Books for Boys and Girls. 
 CObb (Thomas). A CHANGE OF FACE. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Cobban (J. Maclaren). See Shilling Novels. 
 Corelli (Marie). See page 32. 
 
 Cotes (Mrs. Everard). See Sara Jeannette Duncan. 
 
 Cotterell (Constance), the virgin and the scales. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 
 Crane (Stephen) and Barr (Robert). THE O'RUDDY. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 
 Crockett (S. R.), Author of 'The Raiders,' etc. LOCHINVAR. Illustrated. Second 
 
 Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE STANDARD BEARER. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 Croker (B. M.). Seepage 35. 
 
 Dawson (A. J.). DANIEL WHYTE. Crown Zvo. y. 6d. 
 Doyle (A. Conan). Author of 'Sherlock Holmes,' 'The White Company,' etc. ROUND 
 
 THE RED LAMP. Ninth Edition. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 Duncan (Sara Jeannette) (Mrs. Everard Cotes). THOSE DELIGHTFUL AMERI. 
 
 CANS. Illustrated. Third Edition. Crc-wnZvo. 6s. 
 THE POOL IN THE DESERT. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 A VOYAGE OF CONSOLATION. Crown Zvo. 3 s. 6d. 
 Findlater (J. H.). See page 35 and Shilling Novels. 
 
 Findlater (Mary). See page 35. 
 
 Fitzpatrick (K ) THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN. Illustrated. Crcnun Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Fitzstephen (Gerald). MORI. KIN THAN KIND. Crcnvn Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Fletcher ( J. S.). LUCIAN THE DREAMER. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 DAVID MARCH. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Francis (M. E.). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Fraser (Mrs. Hugh), Author of 'The Stolen Emperor.' THE SLAKING OF THE 
 
 SWORD. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Gallon (Tom), Author of 'Kiddy.' RICKERBY'S FOLLY. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Gerald (Dorothea). Author of 'Lady Baby.' THE CONQUEST OF LONDON. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 HOLY MATRIMONY. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 MADE OF MONEY. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE BRIDGE OF LIFE. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Gerard (Emily). THE HERONS' TOWER. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 GiSSing (George), Author of 'Demos," 'In the Year of Jubilee,' etc. THE TOWN 
 
 TRAVELLER. Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE CROWN OF LIFE. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 
 Glanville (Ernest). THE I NCA'S TREASURE. Illustrated. CtwnZvo. 3s. 6d. 
 Gleig (Charles). BUNTER'S CRUISE. Illustrated. CrownZvo. 3s. 6d. 
 GOSS (C. F.). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Herbertson (Agnes G.). PATIENCE DEAN. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 Hichens (Robert). See page 35. 
 Hobbes (John Oliver), Author of 'Robert Orange.' THE SERIOUS WOOING. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Hope (Anthony). See page 32. 
 
 Hough (Emerson). THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. Illustrated. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 
 Hyne (C. J. Cutcliffe), Author of 'Captain Kettle.' MR. HORROCKS, PURSER. 
 
 Third Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Jacobs (W. W.). See page 33. 
 
 James (Henry). See page 36. 
 
 Janson (Gustaf ). ABRAHAM'S SACRIFICE. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 
 Keays (H. A. Mitchell). HE THAT EATHETH BREAD WITH ME. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Lawless (Hon. Emily). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Lawson (Harry), Author of 'When the Billy Boils.' CHILDREN OF THE BUSH. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Le vett- YeatS (S.). ORRAIN. Second Edition. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 Linden (Annie). A WOMAN OF SENTIMENT. CrownZvo. 6s. 
 Linton (E. Lynn). THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON, Christian and 
 
 Communist. Twelfth Edition. Medium Zvo. 6d. 
 Long (J. Luther), Co-Author of 'The Darling of the Gods.' MADAME BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 SIXTY JANE . Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Lyall(Edna). DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. 42nd Thousand, Cr.Bvo. 3*. 6d.
 
 33 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 IN THE DESERT. Crown ton. 6s. 
 CHRISTINA MACNAB. Third Edition. 
 
 GENEVRA. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 Second Edit-on. CroivnZvo. 
 
 6s. 
 6s. 
 
 M'Carthy (Justin H.), Am' or of If I were King.' THE LADY OF LOYALTY HOUSE. 
 
 I'iiird Edition. Crown Zvo. os. 
 THE DRYAD. Coown Zvo. 6s. 
 Mackie (Pauline Bradford), i 1 1 E YOICE 
 Macnaughtan (S.). THE FORTUNE OF 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Malet (Lucas). See page 33. 
 Mann (Mrs. M. E.). -■.•page 36. 
 
 Marriott (Charles), Author of 'The Column. 
 
 Marsh (Richard). 1 HETWICKENHAM PEERAGE. 
 
 A METAMORPHOSIS. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 (1ARNERED. Crown too, 6s. 
 
 A DUEL. Croivn Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Mason (A. E. W.), Author of ' The Courtship of Morrice Buckler,' ' Miranda of the Balcony, 
 
 etc. CLEMENTINA. Illustrated. Crown Zvo. Second Edition. 6s. 
 Mathers (Helen), Author of 'Comin' thro' the Rye.' HONEY. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 GRIFF OF GR1FEITHSCOURT. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 Meade (LT.). DRIFT. Crown tow. 6s. 
 RESURGAM. Crown to*. 6s. 
 
 Meredith (Ellis). HI -'ART OF MY HEART. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 ' Miss Molly' (The Author oO. THE GREAT RECONCILER. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 Mitford (Bertram). THE SIGN OF THE SPIDER. Illustrated. Sixth Edition 
 
 Crown Hz'O. 3s. 6d. 
 IN THE WHIRL OF THE RISING. Third Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE RED DERELICT. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Montresor (F. F.), Author of 'Into the Highways and Hedges.' THE ALIEN. Third 
 
 Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 
 RED HOUSE. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 
 6s. 
 THE 
 
 COUNTY. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 6s. 
 
 6s. 
 
 Seventh Edition. 
 
 Morrison (Arthur). See page 34. 
 Nesbit (E.). (Mrs. E. Bland). THE 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE LITERARY SENSE. Crown Zvo. 
 Norris (W. E.). THE CREDIT OF 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE EMBARRASSING ORPHAN. Croivn Zvo. 
 NIGEL'S VOCATION. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 LORD LEONARD THE LUCKLESS. Crown Zvo. 
 BARHAM OF BELTAN'A. Crown toio. 6s. 
 Oliphant (Mrs.). See Shilling Novels. 
 Ollivant (Alfred). OWD BOB, THE GREY DOG OF KENMUIR. 
 
 Croivn Zvo. 6s. 
 Oppenheim (E. Phillips). MASTER OF MEN. Third Edition. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 Oxenham (John), Author of 'Barhe of Grand Bayou." A WEAVER OF WEBS. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 THE GATE OF THE DESERT. Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Pain (Barry). THREE FANTASIES. Crotvn Zvo. is. 
 LINDLEY KAYS. Third Edition. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 
 Parker (Gilbert). See page 03. 
 
 Pemberton (Max). THE FOOTSTEPS OF A THRONE. 
 
 Crotvn Zvo. 6s. 
 I CROWN THEE KING. With Illustrations hy Frank 
 
 Crown Zvo. 6s. 
 Penny (Mrs. F. E.). Sec Shilling Novels. 
 PhillpottS (Eden). See page 34 .and Shilling Novels. 
 Pickthall (Marmaduke). SATO THE FISHERMAN. Fifth Edition. 
 •1SRENDLE. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 
 •Pryce (Richard). Winifred mount. A New Edition. 
 
 •Q/ Author of 'Dead Mans Rock.' 1 111. Will II. WOLF. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 QU6UX(W. le). THE HUNCHBACK OF WESTMINSTER. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 THE CLOSED BOOK. Second Edition. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. Illustrated. CroivnZvo. 6s. 
 Rhys(Grace). THE WOOING OF SHEILA. Second Edition. Crown to 
 THE PRINCE OF LISNOVER Cr, urn °.-.\ Cs. 
 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Dadd and A. Forrestier. 
 
 Croivn Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Croivn Zvo. 6s. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Croivn 
 
 Third Edition, Croivn 
 
 6s.
 
 Fiction 39 
 
 Rhys (Grace) and Another. THE DIVERTED VILLAGE. With Illustrations by 
 
 Dorothy Gwyn Jeffreys. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Ridge (W. Pett). See page 36. 
 
 Ritchie (Mrs. David G.). THE TRUTHFUL LIAR. Crow n Svo. 6s. 
 Roberts (C. G. D.). THE HEART OB' THE ANCIENT WOOD. Crowntoo. 3s. 6d, 
 ^Robertson (Frances Forbes). THE TAMING OF THE BRUTE. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 RUSSell (W. Clark). MY DANISH SWEETHEART. Illustrated. Fourth Edition 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. 
 ABANDONED. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 HIS ISLAND PRINCESS. Illustrated. Crown 6vo. 6s. 
 
 Sergeant (Adeline). See page 36. 
 
 Shannon (W. F.). THE MESS DECK. Crown Svo. y. 6d. 
 JIM TWELVES. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 Sonnichsen (Albert). DEEP SEA VAGABONDS. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Stringer (Arthur). THE SILVER POPPY. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 Sutherland (Duchess of). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Swan (A nni e). See Shilling Novels. 
 
 Tanqueray (Mrs. B. M.). the ROYAL Quaker. Crowntoo. 6s. 
 
 Thompson (Vance). SPINNERS OF LIFE. Crown too. 6s. 
 
 Waineman (Paul). BY A FINNISH LAKE. Crown too. 6s. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE FOREST. Crown too. 6s. See also Shilling Novels. 
 
 Watson (H. B. Marriott). ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. Crowntoo. 6s. 
 
 CAPTAIN FORTUNE. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 6s. 
 
 Wells (H.G.) THE SEA LADY. Croivn Svo. 6s. 
 
 Weyman (Stanley), Author of 'A Gentleman of France.' UNDER THE RED ROBE 
 
 With Illustrations by R. C. Woodville. Eighteenth Edition. Crown S?'0. 6s. 
 White (Stewart R). Author of ' The Blazed Trail.' CONJUROR'S HOUSE. A Romance 
 
 of the Free Trail. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 White (Percy). THE SYSTEM. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Williamson (Mrs. C. N.), Author of 'The Barnstormers.' PAPA. Second Edition. 
 
 Crown Svo. 6s. 
 THE ADVENTURE OF PRINCESS SYLVIA. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 THE WOMAN WHO DARED. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 THE SEA COULD TELL. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 6s. 
 THE CASTLE OF THE SHADOWS. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 Williamson (C. N. and A. M.). THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR : Being the 
 
 Romance of a Motor Car. Illustrated. Tenth Edition. Crown S?'0. 6s. 
 THE PRINCESS PASSES. Illustrated. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 6s. 
 
 Methuen's Shilling Novels 
 
 Cloth, is. net. 
 
 Encouraged by the great and steady sale of their Sixpenny Novels, Messrs. Methuen have 
 determined to issue a new series of fiction at a low price under the title of ' Methuen's Shilling 
 Novels.' These books are well printed and well bound in cloth, and the excellence of their 
 quality may be gauged from the names of those authors who contribute the early volumes of 
 the series. 
 
 Messrs. Methuen would point out that the books are as good and as long as a six shilling 
 novel, that they are bound in cloth and not in paper, and that their price is One Shilling net. 
 They feel sure that the public will appreciate such good and cheap literature, and the books can 
 be seen at all good booksellers. 
 The first volumes are — 
 
 Adeline Sergeant. A GREAT LADY. 
 
 Richard Marsh. MARVELS AND MYSTERIES. 
 
 Tom Gallon, rickerbvs folly. 
 
 H. B. Marriott-Watson. THE SKIRTS OF HAPPY CHANCE. 
 
 Bullock (Shan F.). THE BARRYS. 
 
 THE CHARMERS. 
 
 Gissing (George). THE CROWN OF LIFE. 
 
 Francis (M. E.). MISS ERIN. 
 
 Sutherland (Duchess of), one hour and THE NEXT. 
 
 Burton (J. Bloundelle). ACROSS THE SALT SEAS. 
 
 Oliphant (Mrs.). THE prodigals. 
 
 Balfour (Andrew), vengeance is MINE.
 
 4 o 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's Catalogue 
 
 Barr (Robert*. Author of ' The Countess Tekla. '1 HE VICTOR^ 
 
 Penny (Mrs. F. A.). A MIXED MARRIAGE. 
 
 Hamilton (Lord Ernest). MARY HAMILTON. 
 
 Glanvllle (Ernest). THE LOST REGIMENT. 
 
 Benson (E. F.), Author of Dodo.* THE CAPSINA. 
 
 Goss(C.F.). THE R] DFMPTION OF D\Y1D (.ORSON. 
 
 Flndlater (J. H.), Author of 'The Green Graves of I'.algowrie.' A DAUGHTER OF 
 
 STRIFE. 
 Cobban, (J. M.) THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 Clifford (Mrs. W. K.). A WOMAN ALONE 
 Phillpotts (Eden). FANCY FREE. 
 
 Books for Boys and Girls. 
 Crown 8vo. 2 s - 6flf. 
 
 The Getting Well of Dorothy. By Mrs. 
 W. K. Clifford. Illustrated by Gordon- 
 Browne. ScconJ Edition. 
 
 Thb Icelander's Sword. By S. Baring- 
 Gould. 
 
 Only a Guard-Room Dog. By Edith E. 
 Cuthell. 
 
 The Doctor of the Juliet. By Harry 
 Collingwood. 
 
 Little Peter. By Lucas Malet. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Master Rockafeli.ar's Voyage. By W. 
 
 Clark Russell. 
 The Secret of Madamr de Mokl.DC. By 
 
 the Author of " Mdlle. Mori." 
 Syd Belton : Or, the Boy who would not go 
 
 to Sea. By G. Manville Fenn. 
 The Red Grange. By Mrs. Molcsworth. 
 A Girl of the People. By L. T. Meade. 
 Hepsy Gipsy. By L. T. Mrade. -is. < d. 
 The Honourable Miss. By L. T. Meade. 
 
 The Novels of Alexandre Dumas. 
 
 Price 6d. Double Volume, is. 
 
 The Three Musketeers. With a long 
 Introduction by Andrew Lang. Double 
 volume. 
 
 The Prince of Thieves. Second Edition. 
 
 Robin Hood. A Sequel to the above. 
 
 The Corsican Brothers. 
 
 Georges. 
 
 Crop-Eared Jacquot; Jane; Etc. 
 
 Twenty Years After. Double volume. 
 
 Amaury. 
 
 The Castle of Eppstein. 
 
 The Snowball, and Sultanetta. 
 
 Cf.cile; or, The Wedding Gown. 
 
 ACTB. 
 
 The Black Tulip. 
 
 The Yicomte db Bragf.lonnf. 
 
 Part I. Louis de la Valliere. Double 
 
 Volume. 
 Part ii. The Man in the Iron Mask. 
 Double Volume. 
 The Convict's Son. 
 The Wolp-Leam k. 
 Nanon ; or, The Women's War. Double 
 
 volume. 
 Pauunb; Murat; and Pascal Bruno. 
 The Adventures of Captain Pamphilk. 
 i i rnande. 
 ( iABKIBL I.AMnERT. 
 
 I'iik Reminiscences ok Antony. 
 ( a i herine Blum. 
 The Chevalier D'Harmental. 
 Sylvandire. 
 The Fencing Master. 
 •Conscience. 
 
 ' I he Regent's Daughter. A Sequel to 
 Chevalier d'Harmental. 
 
 Illustrated Edition. 
 
 The Three Musketeers. Illustrated in 
 
 Colour by Frank Adams, vs. iul. 
 The Prince of Thieves. Illustrated in 
 
 Colour by Frank Adams. 2j. 
 Robin Hood the Outlaw. Illustrated in 
 
 Colour by Frank Adams. 2S. 
 The Corsican Bkothers. Illustrated in 
 
 Colour by A. M. M'Ldlan. is.(xl. 
 Fernande. Illustrated in Colour by Munro 
 
 Orr. 
 The Black Tulip. Illustrated in Colour bv 
 
 A. Orr. 
 Georges. Illustrated in Colour by Munro Orr. 
 
 2S. 
 
 Twenty Years After. Illustrated in Colour 
 by Frank Adams, 3s. 
 
 Amauky. Illustrated in Colour by Gordon 
 Browne, is. 
 
 'I'm Snowball, and Sultanetta. Illus- 
 trated in Colour by Frank A. lams. 2s. 
 
 "The Vico.mte db Bragelonne. Part 1. 
 Illustrated in Colour by Frank Adam-;. 
 
 *Crop-Eakei> Jacquot; Jam:; Etc. Illus- 
 trated in Colour by Gordon Browne. 
 
 "The Castle of Eppstein. Illustrated in 
 Colour by Stewart Orr. 
 
 *Acte. Illustrated in Colour by Gordon 
 Browne. 
 
 'Cecils; or, The Wedding Gown, Illus- 
 trated in Colour by D. Murray Smith. 
 
 "The Adventures of Captain Pamphilk. 
 Illustrated in Colour by Fr.mk Adams. 
 
 "The WOLF-LEADER. Illustrated in Colour 
 by Frank Adams, is. 6d.
 
 I MM RSI IN <>l ( U NORMA LIBRARY 
 I. os Ingeles 
 
 I his book is Di i. on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form I.'.i-s. -i-ies 4939
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 364 773 2