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THE
TALES OF OLD LIVERPOOL.
BY
JOHN P. EIFFE
LIVERPOOL;
Printed and Published by Mackie &• Co., Limited, Albion Office,
55, Victoria Street.
1S86.
TALES OF OLD LIVERPOOL.
[FEOil THE LIVERPOOL WEEKLY " ALBIOX."]
CALEB CROSSLEY'S BUTLER.
BY JOnX p. EIFPE.
CHAPTER I.
Mr. Caleb Crossley was a wealthy man. He
lived ia a style of great magniticecice at his
mansion, a short distance from town; gave
frequent routs and parties to his contemporary
magnates and their families; kept his coach and
pair and a large retinue of servants; and,
ia a manner, richly merited the pseudonym
which old Liverpudlians christened him — namely,
Caleb Croesus.
Melville House was the name by which his
mansion was known, and the most important
person in that establishment, after himself and
family, was a Mr. George Brown, his major
doino, butler, and right hand man. Brown,
who hailed from somewhere in Cumberland, had
wormed himself cleverly into his master's confi-
dence, until he became as indispensable to him
as his head cashier or managing clerk at the
office. He had the entire control of everything
that took place in Melville House ; the arrange-
ment of balls and festivities of all kinds ; the
engaging and supervision of the servants; and
the personal regulation of the outlay and
requirements iuiraical to the wants of such an
establishment. Mr. Crossley being a widower
with two grown up daughters, who took little
interest in household matters, the duty devolved
on Brown to fill the hiatus, and this he succeeded
in doing to the fullest satisfaction.
4
It was one evening in mitlsummei, wliile the
family were away spending their holirlays, that
our friend, brown, took the opportunity to visit
the lower parts of the establishment, where a
fiiend and admirer of his, Mrs. Hujigins, the
cook, was the presiding genius. She was a
fresh-faced, well-iiroportioued lady of forty —
very plump and good-looking, and, what is more,
a widow ; S' > that he could not have selected a
more agreeable companion to while away an
idle hour with. The good lady may have
encouraged, in her own breast, feelings deeper
than ordinary admiration for the butler, although
he was ten years her junior, but, if such were
the case, they were so well controlled by a dis-
creet and deferential manner that there was no
room left fur him to suspect anything of the
kind. He entered the kitchen with a somewhat
conscious air of condescension, such as a prince
might assume on visiting some wretched hovel,
and in the blandest and must genial manner
addressed the cook.
"Well, and how ai-e you this evening, Mrs.
Huggins ? I daresay well pleased for your short
rest while the folk upstairs are away P Ah ! I
am sorry to say they will soon be back ajj;ain —
to-morrow or the next day at lat st ; so
Crossley, at least, informs me " He always
referred to his master in this familiar way when
speaking before the servants.
Mrs. Huggins was all of a flutter as he came
in upon her unexpectedly. However, she soon
pulled herself together, and assumed her best
smile and most winning manner to give liim a
pleasant reception.
" As for rest and such like, sir," said she," I'm
sure it's yourself that has more need of it. I
often wonder how you can stand the worrit
and upset that one in your position has to
contend with. From morning till niglit you
have not a moment to call your own while the
family is at home, and, for the matter of that,
it's about the same when tliey are away."
Tliis considerate language of Ihe cook evi-
dently pleased him. He smiled with conscious
dignity, and acknowledged —
" That it was no child's play to keep the place
in order; that Crossley had his weather eye
open when he gave him the post; that, by his
systematic economy and vigilance, ho saved his
master thousands a year; and that there was
not another man in England who would plague
and worrit himself as he did about another's
interests."
" All you say, sir, is perfectly true," remarked
she, sympathetically. " I have often said the
same to my friends when we happened to talk
on the subject. But won't you take a little
drop of something, now that you are here, sir ?
— a little gin or whiskey toddy or "
"If you'll allow me," said he, with a gracious
bow and drawing forth his bunch of keys, " I'll
take the liberty of asking you this time. Give
it a name, Mrs. Huggins, and you shall have
the best that Crossley's cellar contains."
The cook was overwhelmed by this generous
offer, and profusely poured forth her acknow-
ledgments of the great honour intended her.
" You are too kind, indeed, sir." protested she;
"but I suppose you gentlemen are bound to have
your way. If it must be so, I have no particular
choice of my own ; I leave that in your hands,
Mr. Brown, as who should be a better judge than
yourself in these things ?"
While the butler proceeded to the cellar to
carry out his proposal, Mrs. Huggins took the
precaution to give the maid servants some work
in another part of the house, so that she and
her companion could liave theiv tefe-a-fete in the
kitchen without fear of interruption. It was
evident to the cook that Mr. Brown was unusu-
ally generous and good tempered this evening,
and it was not at all unlikely that there might
be something in the wind : that is to say, he
might be going to talk very seriously to her.
When the bottle was produced— one of the
best, in fact, in Crossley's bin— they took their
seats vis a vis, and indulged in a little compli-
mentary talk on common-place subjects, until
at length the butler suddenly changed the topic,
and seemed desirous of turning the conversation
into another channel. It was clearly evident to
6
his companion that he had something on his
mind, and did not know how to broach it. After
beating about the bush for some time, he seemed
at last to screw his courage to the sticking point,
and the confidence wliich he reposed in the good
lady had the effect, as if by magic, of dissipating
any castles in the air which she was imprudent
or silly enough to have erected.
"You have always been a friend of mine,
Mrs. Huggins," he said, in a serious tone of
voice ; " a person I can talk to as confidentially
and familiarly as to my own mother. I am,
therefore, going to tell you a great secret — one
known only to myself and another party — and
I want you to assist me by your advice and
experience in a very delicate and interesting
matter."
The cook acknowledged as graciously as she
could the; great honour conferred upon her
by what his words implied, but she was, never-
theless, a little troubled and uneasy at the
disappointment of her first conjectures.
"Women can always manage these things
better than men," continued he; "especially
women of a certain age — a motherly age, I
mean." This was gall and wormwood to the
cook, but she had too much sense to reveal her
feelings.
" I am in love, Mrs. Huggins ! " He blurted
this out as though greatly relieved to have thus
far broken the ice; "and now who do you
suppose is the particular young lady I am in
love with.^"
"I'm sure I couldn't say, Mr. Brown," replied
she, with a forced and chilly laugh of indiflerence.
" Can't you guess, Mrs. Huggins ; you a per-
son of experience and years ; you surely must
have suspected something of the kind by this
time. She has spoken to you daily; she is, I
believe, a great friend of yours — a confidante,
in fact?"
"You don't mean Miss Edith Crossley, do
you ?" said she, with killing sarcasm.
He simply shook his head, and puckered his
mouth with sovereign contempt in reply.
•'Well then, Miss Amy Rogers, that calls here
so often, and plays the piano so beautifully ?"
"I thought you had a better opinion of my
taste," said he, apparently hurt at this con-
jecture.
" But, if all accounts be true, she is very rich,
and no bad match for — for " — she was going to
say a butler, but supplemented the word gentle-
man instead.
"Mrs. H.uggins,you don't quite understand my
character. I'm not one of them gents that looks
for money and money only. I can appreciate as
well as anyone else beauty, talents, grace, and
manners — something to adorn a home, and make
the hours of life pass away like a beautiful
dream. Oh ! you are very dull to-night ; cannot
you think of the sweetest and prettiest girl in
all Liverpool ?"
"You surely don't mean Miss Lillie Jackson,
the governess ?" ventured the cook, opening her
eyes, and staring fixedly at him.
"You've hit it at last !" exclaimed he, giving
his leg a terrific slap, and exhibiting unusual
agitation and delight at the mere chance guess
of her name. " Now, don't you admire and
appreciate my taste ; is she not beautiful and
good, and — and all that could be desired? "
The cook did not reply just then, but was
turning over in her mind something concerning
another person, whose name had been men-
tioned to her by Lillie Jackson herself.
"Let me have your honest opinion, ma'am ?'
he repeated; "I place great value on every-
thing you say."
"Well, I'm sure I don't know what to say,"
replied she ; "you're the best judge of your own
aiiairs, I should think ; but Miss Jackson I hear
is very poor — poor as a chvurch mouse, as
they say."
This was intended to be cruel and cutting,
but the other did not take it so.
"Don't you believe a word of that," said he ;
^'I have been over to Chester making inquiries,
and I find that her mother has a good shop
there, and is worth some money — all of which
will be left to Lillie when the old lady dies.
8
Make no mistake, ma'am, I am not altogether
asleep. I shouldn't marry for money alone, you
know, but I would like to have a comfortable
little sum with the girl I made my wife,"
" Then I suppose everything is arranged
between you," observed she; "and matters
have gone so far that whatever I might say
would be of little consequence."
" Not so fast, please, ma'am ; not so fast. It
you give me your attention for a moment, I will
put our present position cleai'ly before you."
And, helping himself to another glass of wine,
and clearing his throat, he proceeded as
follows : —
" Well, before the family went away for their
holidays, I tried every means I could to catch
Miss Jackson by herself, and explain to her the
state of my feelings regarding her. Somehow or
other she was never alone, or suspecting by my
look and manner — for there is no knov/ing how
sharp you women are (this with a waggish shake
of the head) — she always managed to have some
one with her. At last I saw hor entering the
library one day, and seizing the opportunity I
popped in unawares, and, closing the door
behind me, said ' Miss Jackson, may Itspeak a
few words with you^ now that we are alone. ' She
looked startled at seeing me then, but without
any hesitation she answered ' Well, if you
don't detain me long, Mr. Brown, I will hear
you, but I am very busy just now.'
" She had a book in her hand, and looked oh !
so beautiful and innocent, standing there before
me, that I would have given all the wealth of
the world to have called her mine. I don't know
what came over me, but her beauty seemed to
instil a sort of courage and inspiration into me.
I dropped on my knees before her, and without
an effort began to pour forth all the most
loving things I could think of. I declare
to you, ma'am, if you were to offer me the
wealth of the country I could not repeat
what I then said ; it seemed to flow natur-
ally from me, and without an effort to find
the proper words. To show my delicacy for her
feelings I closed my eyes all the time I waa
9
speaking. How long I was on my knees I could
not say, but I was quickly recalled to my senses
by hearing the room door closed, I opened my
eyes at once, and gazed around me. Alas ! the
beautiful vision had llovvn ; her maiden modesty
could not support the ordeal. I blame myself
for having approached the matter with such
enthusiasm and warmth ; in vulgar words,
ma'am. I put it on too tliick. Well, while I
was still on my knees thinking, and somewhat
disappointed, the room door was suddenly
thrown open, and in walked Crossley in his
fussy way : ' What ! at your prayers, Brown ?
Pray don't disturb yourself for me. I"ll be off
in a jitfy.' ' I was only picking a pin off the
carpet, sir,' s;iid I, not to be taken aback; 'it's
not pleasant to have them strewn about the
floor while you're wearing thin slippers.' 'True,
Brown, very true. I remember experiencing a
most uncomfortable sensation with those same
pins once. One of tlie girls left a fancy pin-
cushion in my arm-chair, and I sat on it.' ' Ah,
sir, those young ladies are very thoughtless.'
But, Mrs. Huggins, to return to the sub-
ject of my story. 1 lairl in wait for my beautiful
charmer during the next few days, but do what
I would there was no getting even a look from
her. She purposely turned her face aside when
passing me, and I could notice that she blushed
deeply whenever I chanceJ to meet her in the
hall. She did not look as though she was
offended, or put on any of those airs which
young women are in the habit of assuming
towards those they despise and dislike. I also
know that she did not say anything about what
had happened to the Miss Crossleys, for they
would have been sure to open their big mouths
and grin at me, whenever they saw me. No ;
I guessed how things were at a glance ; she was
taken aback by my sudden declarrition of love,
and only wanted a little time and gentle handling
to swallow the bait. Now, Mrs. H., you have
been a married woman, and know all the
peculiarities of your own sex. I want you to
give me your assistance in this aff dr, and use
your influence to bring two loving hearts
10
together. Elderly ladies are always the best
matchmakers, and young maidens will confess
to them \Yhat they would not for worlds
acknowledge to a male friend. May i con-
sole myself by knowing that you are my
friend, Mrs. H., that — that you will pop in
a good word for me now and then, and use your
tact to arrange little matters between us, when
I can express ray love and admiration without
fear of interruption. She will be back with the
family to-morrow at the furthest, so we must
strike the iron while it is hot. You are a great
favourite with her, and can do more than anyone
else to forward my cause. Give me your hand,
and say that you will stand by me in this little
matter."
Here the amorous butler stood up, and seized
his companion's reluctant hand, but, as if the
fates were against them, just afc this moment
one of the maid-servants entered the kitchen,
and then with a little scream of alarm withdrew
precipitately.
The good lady was very much annoyed at this
interruption, chiefly because it would be wrongly
interpreted by the servants, and being a great
stickler for propriety herself, it would place her
in a very unenviable position as regards those
who were under her. Besides, the affair would be
certain to furnish matter for scandal, and very
probably would reach the ears of the master and
the Misses Crossley.
The butler saw that she was greatly put out
by what had occurred, and, to quiet her agita-
tion, he whispered confidentially that the
intruding hussy should be discharged next day,
or his name wasn't Brown.
At this juncture she was desirous of bringing
the tete-it-tfte to a close, but the love-stricken
butler would not hear of it until she had given
him her full promise to enlist her services in his
behalf.
" I will not be satisfied until I have the pro-
mise of your assistance, ma'am ; without your
help I feel as though I can make no headway
myself. Come now, take up the cudgels in my
n
behalf, and you'll never want a friend while
George Brown lives."
" Well, but, Mr. Bro^vn, I'm afraid you are
misled as regards the young lady's own feelings.
If she has another lover and doesn't care a jot
for you, all that I can say will be of little avail."
'•Another loverj and doesn't care a jot for
me !" repeated he, starting back in his seat, as
though the supposition were indeed a reality.
*' Oh, Mrs. H., don't use those words except
you wish to kill me right out. The bare
idea of the thing has knocked me all of a heap,
and I feel as though I had no backbone.
There's a good lady, say you only meant it in
fun."
"But I must be plain with you, sir; she has
another lover — in fact, she has promised to
marry him, and that I know for certain."
If the butler in his own graphic language
had been denuded of his vertebral column, he
could not have looked more chapfallen. His face
turned deadly pale, his lower jaw dropped, and
he remained silent for some moments, as if
deprived of the power of speech. At length he
seemed to recover himself, and in an altered
tone of voice, said —
'- Are you telling me the truth about another
lover ? Don't drive me to despair by saying what
you only suspect. You women often imagine a
thing when thei-e is no real cause to do so. 'Who
is the other party that you say she is going to
marry ?"
"I am sorry to pain you by telling you this,
but I think it was JMiss Jackson's place to have
^ven you to understand that she was engaged."
"Who is the other man, Mrs. H. ? Have you
any objection to let me know his name?"
"Oh no, there is no secrecy about the matter ;
he is your own cou-in, Alfred Grice."
"What! the fellow I got Crossley to take
into his service for God's sake — the fellow I
actually brought down from Cockermouth, and
supported and paid for in Liverpool, so that he
might be at hand when an opening occurred in
the office. Believe me, I have done more for
that young man than if he was my own brother,
12
and this is how one is repaid for doing a jjjood
act. But he is in Buenos Ayres at present,
and the chances are he may never come back."
" I heard Miss Jackson say that he is coming
home in the master's ship, Prince Rupert, and
that he will sail in about a month's time."
" ( h, indeed ; then they write to each other,
do they? That accounts for the bulky letters
which she receives so often. Aha, that's how
matters stand, is it ?"
Here Mr. Brown became suddenly aTisorbed
in thought, in which condition he reminned for
some time, while the cook fidgeted about, and
conducted herself as though she had something
very important to do, and was desirous to bring
the interview to a close. At length, standing
up from his seat and preparing to go, he
observed with calm indifference,
" Well, from what you say, it's very evident
that I'm too late in the field. I cmu therefore
depend on you saying nothing of what has
occurred between us. Where no good can be
done, it is just as well to let the matter drop.
I must bear my disappointment as best I can,
and we must all expect to meet with disappoint-
ments coming through life "
Mrs. Huggins expressed her deep sympathy
with him, and gave the necessary promise to
keep silence on what had transpired. However,
when he took his departure, she had very grave
doubts about his apparent resignation, and
determined to keep her eye upon him, notwith-
standing all he had said.
CHAPTER II.
Two days succeeding the interview described,
Caleb Crossley and his family returned to Mel-
ville House. They had enjoyed themselves
immensely during their absence, and every mem-
bar, not excepting the governess, Miss Jackson,
was in the best of health and spirits after their
fortnight's holiday. Mr. Crossley, in addition
13
to the pleasures of relaxation, had the satisfac-
tion to know that everything had gone on swim-
mingly during his absence. Tlie attentive major
domo presented him with a great number of let-
ters on his arrival ; all of which bore tidings of
successful speculation, while the accounts he had
received from his counting-house were equally
satisfactory.
"Egad, Brown," said he, tapping the butler
familiarly on the shoulder, " this is the happiest
day of my life. I have netted a good round sum
in these last ventures of mine, and every one in
my employ shall have an increase of salary. I
will attend to the clerks down at the office
myself, and you can look after the people here.
Remind me this evening, and we will talk over
the share which you must have in my good
fortune."
"You are very kind, sir, " said Brown, bowing
in acknowledgment, " and I am heartily glad
that things have gone on so well with you, but
the people here are all getting good salaries at
present, and — and thsy sometimes get too hot
and unmanageable when you treat them over
kindly; however, sir, you are the best judge."
" Well, Brown, I don't like to interfere with
your management, for you are a good and faith-
ful servant to me, but still I should like every
one about me to be a partaker in my success ;
however, this can be talked over at another time.
Just help me on with this coat. I want to go
down to the office, and see how things are there."
When the butler had done as he was birjden,
and Mr. Crossley was about to depart, he tamed
suddenly around, as though something had
occurred to him.
"By-the-bye," said Mr. Crossley, "that cousin
of yours is a most invaluable servant ; he has
been looking after my interests abroad better than
I could have done myself. T am very grate-
ful to you for recommending him to me. When
he returns to Liverpool I shall give him a posi-
tion deserving his ability and trustworthiness."
Brown accompanied his master to the hall
door with a smile of bitterness and chagrin on
his face. The eulogium he had just heard
14
regarding his cousin had an opposite effect on
him to that which his master intended. He
experienced to the fullest extent all the
envy, rage, and despair that a jealous
and vindictive man can feel through the prob-
able triumph of a successful rival. However,
he was a man of resource and action, and
was not going to throw up the sponge thus
early in the game. Returning to his office in
the back part of the house, he locked the door
securely after him, and then produced two bulky
letters, which bore the address — "Miss Jackson,
Melville House, Liverpool, England." After
carefully opening them, so as to remove any
traces of detection, he sot about deciphering
them, as well as his faulty education would
permit. After considerable pains and delay,
he at length succeeded in mastering the
contents ; there was one particular passage which
seemed to strike him with a new and happy
thought, and this he read over to himself several
times. To one who did not fathom his thoughts,
this passage contained nothing very special. It
was, as some would think, a bit of eccentricity
on the part of the writer, Alfred Grice.
It ran as follows: — "And now, dearest, you
will be surprised at what I am going to write.
I have engaged to fill an inferior position
in my homeward voyage. You remember
what a liking I always had for a sailor's life :
I mean the duties of a sailor before the mast;
some of which I know theoretically and a little
practically. Well, I am going to set to on my
homeward voyage and make myself proficient in
all its duties. This may appear odd to you, but
there is no accounting for people's tastes. The
captain has consented to my wishes, and agrees
to engage me as an able-bodied seaman at
nominal wages. I need scarcely say that what-
ever I earn shall be transmuted into a little pre-
sent for the girl I love best. Now, I don't wish
Mr. Crossley to know anything about this, as he
might be displeased, thinking that I demeaned
myself to take this post ; but in my estimation it
is the proudest and most manly calling a man
could follow. Of course I have finished the busi-
15
ness I was sent out here to transact, and I am
at liberty to spend my idle time as best I think
fit. We expect to sail on the 3rd of next month ;
so that if all goes well I will be with you early in
September, Tell my cousin Brown that I am
doing first class, and will bring him home some-
thing curious from these parts."
After resealing the letters to his satisfaction.
Brown returned them to the letter bag, and then
proceeded with his ordinary duties, as though
nothing had occuiTed. Notwithstanding this,
he seemed considerably abstracted during the
next few days, and did not give his instruc-
tions with the same precision and intelligence
he was accustomed to do. He also showed
a tacit desire to avoid Miss Jackson, and
when forced by circumstances to speak to her,
he always did so in the briefest and most collected
manner possible. What had passed between
them, as far as the young lady could judge, was
satisfactorily set at rest, and would cause no
further annoyance or unpleasantness. No
doubt, Brown was a sensible man, she
thought, though sometimes like all his sex
afflicted with amorous feelings, but, perceiv-
ing that his suit was not accepted, he took the
^\-isest course he could by letting the matter
drop. Indeed, he had risen considerably in her
estimation by the alteration she noticed in his
manner, and she did not fail to show him by an
occasional grateful glance how highly she appre-
ciated it. This, however, had the opposite effect
to that desired, and only encouraged him to
suppose that his suit was not entirely displeasing
to her, and that, if he only succeeded in removing
his rival out of the way, all would be straight
sailing afterwards.
In this manner some months passed away, and
the time at length approached when the ship,
Prince Rupert, was expected in the Mersey. It
was the habit of Brown, about this time, to stroll
out every other evening when nothiug special
detained him in the house. In these excursions
he was usually dressed in his best clothes, and
sauntered carelessly towards the old town, smok-
When he got as far as Pool-lane (now
16
South Castle-street) ho generally increased his
pices, and took a circuitous route towards a cer-
tain house, with a flag flying from one of the
upper wmdovvs, in Old Strand-street. Here he
stopped, and, after looking about him cautiously,
approached the open door, and knocked quietly
at it. After a time a tall, piratical looking
fellow, known as Jack Law, made his appearance,
dressed in a seedy semi-military coat and
trousers, and wearing a seaman's hat. Recog-
nizing Brown at once, he joined him, and then
they both adjourned to an out-of-the-way
public-house, wliere they remained some time
in private consultation.
In these visits to Old Strand-street, the major-
domo was careful to let uo one see him but the
individual aforesaid, and, when their interview
was over, he generally returned to Melville House
by proceeding for some distance in an oppo-
site direction, and afterwards retracing his steps
through several narrow and tortuous streets,
until he got clear of the town. He also took the
precaution to guard against being followed,
stopping now and then in some dark alley or
doorway on his route, and looking back
suspiciously in the direction whence he came.
Altogether, his conduct seemed very mysteri-
ous and peculiar, and would have some-
what astonished the confiding Caleb Crossley
had he buen acquainted with it. One
morning a great number of letters were
delivered at Melville House, and among them a
letter for Miss Jackson, the superscription of
which was not unknown to Brown. He quickly
seized on this, carried it to his sanctum, ami
there opened and read it, as he had done several
others beiore. This letter from Alfred Grice to
hia sweetheart informed her that it was des-
patched by a vessel sailing a fortnight before
tht< Prince Rupert, and, barring accident and
adverse weather, he was sure to be with her in
ten or fourteen days after receiving it. The
day following this. Brown drew a large
instalment of salary from his master, and the
same night went as usual to the rendezvous in
Old Strand-street. He remained a considerable
17
time with his companion, Jack Law, and, when
he returned to Melville House, he was lighter
both in spirits and pocket. Scarcely a week
elapsed after this when the Prince Rupert was
spoken. On arriving at the dock side, she was
found to be minus most of her crew, one of the
missing hands being Alfred Grice.
This was terrible news for poor Lillie Jackson,
and she was neai'ly beside herself with grief.
Caleb Crossley was also greatly upset about the
matter, losing such a good and efhcient servant,
without the opportunity of making him any
reward for his invaluable services.
The captain of the vessel was summoned to
the office, and interrogated by Mr. Crossle}'.
That functionary stated that his vessel was
l)oarded by the Press-gang just outside the
Black Rock, and that they seized on all hands,
except a few old blue jackets that were barely
sufficient to work the ship into port.
"But," said Crossley, "'Mr. Grice was an
sHgent of mine, and not a sailor ; what motive,
then, could they have ia impressing him ?"
"Ay, ay, Sir," replied the captain ; '* but you
see Mr. Grice has been working hs way home
before the mast, and a darned good seaman he
made. I was opposed to his doing this at first,
but he kept continually asking me as a favour
to let him try his hami, so thinking that he
would soon grow tired of it I gave my consent."
" He was certainly at liberty to do what he
liked with his own time," remarked Mr. Crossley ;
" but why did you not tell those scoundrels that
he was not a real blue jacket, and take proper
means to prevent them seizing him ?"
" Bless your heart, sir, they wouldn't care a
fig for all that I said or threatened ; they have
the Minister of War on their side, and carry
everything with a high hand. I did tell them
that I had a couple of passengers and a Mr.
Grice, an agent, on board, but they paid no heed
to me, only remarking among themselves that
Grice was the very chap they came for. ' We
have an opening for a rear-admiral,' said they,
laughing, ' and that will about suit your new
sailor,' "
18
" Have you the names of all the men they
impressed ?" inquired Mr. Crossley.
" Well, I have a list of all that are missing Sir^
but when the Press-gang's boat came alongside,
it was dark at the time, and I did not see all
that took place."
"Well, I shall take immediate steps to
have Mr. Grice released," said Mr. Crossley,
standing up and bringing the interview to
a close; "though the time that has elapsed
may defeat all my endeavours. I hear the
ship that lay in the river to receive the
impressed men has gone round to the outports
to distribute her cargo amongst the men of war
in want of blue jackets ; if he is among thern ori
board of her it may not be too late to trace him."
Two days follow'ing this, a boy called at Mel-
ville House with a letter for Brown. This
letter was from Alfred Grice, informing the
factotum that he was hiding in an untenanted
house on the Cheshire side, and requesting him
to send by the bearer a suit of civilian's clothes,
and a little money to keep body and soul
together, until he could manage to make his
escape to Liverpool. He had succeeded in eluding
the vigilance of the Press-gang, he said, but as
they were known to be prowling about the neigh-
bourhood, he was forced to keep within doors, as
he was in sailor's uniform. Fortunately, the boy
was thrown in his way, or he believed he should
have died of starvation, not having eaten food
for several days. He also implored his cousin to
reassure Lillie of his safety, but to say nothing
to Mr. Crossley until he returned himself, and
fully explained all to him. After Brown had
read the letter, he made the messenger describe
the locality of the hiding-place with great
minuteness ; then he dismissed him with a shil-
ling, telling him that he would attend himself
to what was required, and that there was no
occasion to trouble any more about the matter.
Late in the afternoon he left the house, and
made his way to the rendezvous in Old Strand-
street, after which he called at a tailor's shop,
and bought a suit of ready-made clothes, and,
taking the parcel under his arm, he proceeded
19
down to the river to take a boat for the Cheshke
side.
On landing at the other side, and following
the description given by the boy, he had little
difficulty in finding the hiding-place of his
cousin. It was an old, dilapidated cottage
standing close to the Chester-road, bat partially
hidden from view by several bushes and trees
that surrounded it. He approached it cautiously,
but with a look of triumph and satisfaction in
his face. "All is fair in love and war," said he
to himself. " What can a fine young fellow do
better than fight for his king and country. He
is fond of a sailor's life, then let him have it
with all my heart." It was now quite dark, but
there was no liglit visible from the outside. He,
however, managed to find the front door, and
knocked quietly with his fingers. After waiting
for some time without any answer, he was
suddenly startled by a figure emerging from
some bushes at the side, and making instantly
towards him.
" It is you, George ! God bless you ! I could
just make out your face in the darkness. Oh, I
shall never forget this kindness, but have you
not always been good to me ? Come round this
way, old boy, and we shall find an entrance. I
make a practice of never opening the frontdoor."
When they got inside, he took a lighted
candle from an old pantry where he had hidden
it, and let its beams fall on the bare and com-
fortless apartment, and on his own face, which
was pale, haggard, and pinched for want of sus-
tenance. But his eyts were bright, nevertheless,
and a grateful smile lighted up his anxious
features.
" First of all, George, tell me how Lillie is .?"
"Oh, she is quite well," rephed Brown,
uneasily. " Of course she was cut up when she
heard you were impressed, but on the whole
bore up very well."
" Poor girl ! I can imagine all she must have
suffered; but was she not delighted when you
told her I was safe ?''
" Oh, yes, yes — certainly," replied Brown.
20
" What have you got in that parcel, old fellow
— clothes? Oh, thank you, ever thoughtful,
George. Please open them, while I unship these
proscribed togs." It was not long before he
exchanged his blue jacket costume for that of
the civilian's garb, and then, making a bundle
of the ca'^t-otfs, he thrust them away in an old
cupboard at the end of the room.
" Now, George, I am a new man," said he,
looking as deUghted as a schoolboy in a new
suit ; " and whom have I to thank for my liberty
— my new life, I might say, but my dear,
generous, kind-hearted cousin." He brushed
away a tear from his eyes, and seized Brown's
hand, which he pressed warmly. In the joy of
the moment he had forgotten for the time the
pangs of hunger, not having tasted anything in
the shape of food for several days. Now, however,
the great craving made itself keenly felt ; and
asking Brown for a little money, he suid he
knew where there was a shop some quarter of a
mile distant, and would start off at once and get
some bread and cheese. He would run all the
way, and should not keep him waiting long.
Brown was for going himself, but Grice would
not hear of such a thing. He had been too kind
already ; besides it was probable that he would
not find the place. So saying, he took Brown's
hat in his huixy, and, before the owner was
aware of it, he dashed out of the house, and
made off towards the shop mentioned.
While Brown sat waiting in the comfortless
room, he half regretted the dastardly errand
upon which he had come. But he was by no
means a sensitive man, and any compunctious
visitings of nature which he felt were summarily
repressed by the consciousness of his own
self-interest and love for Lillie Jackson, After
all, the object ho had in view could not be
considered a great crime ; it was only a clever
movement on his part to get rid of a dangerous
rival. It was far more humane than to pitch
him into the river, or shoot a ballet through his
heart, as many fellows in his position would
have done. He, however, was only doing a
service when he appeared to do an injury. Alf
21
Grice would be forced to follow a pursuit for
which he showed a great predilection, and who
knew but that he might rise to be a great man
yet, and thank him afterwards for being the
mean3 of turning his career into its proper
channel. He had resjlved to be there that
night, so that the affair might not miscarry ; and
also to leave the impression that he was aiding
Grice to escape when the hawks pounced down
upon their prey.
As these thoughts were passing through Iiis
mind, he h-ard the sound of a footsrep outside
the cottage door. " He hasn't been long on his
journey," said he to himself; " I thought he
could scarcely have reached the shop by this
time."
He had scarcely uttered these words, before
a tremendous crash burst upon his eais, and the
front door tumbled in, burst uti' its hinges. At
the same moment the back door was thrust sud-
denly open, and several villanous looking fellows
rushed into the room.
"Ha! it is you then ?'* said he, jumping up
suddenly, and running his eyes ovc-r their faces
to discover Jack Law, whom he knew. " I
expected you here to-night, but not s > early."
"It's a pity you did not tell us the time to
come," observed one of the men, with a sneer;
''we should have tried to accommodate you.
Better too early than too late, however, say I.
Come, since you have been expecting us, half
the battle's ' iver."
" Hallo there, mate," shouted another to him,
" any lotion about these here premises ?
Anything nouiishing in your cupboard, eh?"
And going to satisfy himself on that point,
he pulled out the bundle of sailor's clothes
which Grice had placed there, " Better keep
these by you," said he ; '' they may be of
use hereafter." Brown was considerably puzzled
by their rough demeanour and suspicious
looks. He knew they were a determined
and daredevil lot, and notorious for their want
of respect for persons ; but he was uncomfortably
surprised when two of them kept guard over him,
while the remainder of the gang lit a lamp, and
went rummaging about the rooms of the cottage.
He noticed also that they all were the worse for
drink, and the fumes of whiskey and rum impreg-
nated the atmosphere of the place. In his
transactions with Jack Law he had never seen
any of these desperadoes, and therefore they
were all strangers to him,
" Do you — do you belong to the Press-gang ?"
inquired he, looking up timidly at one of those
keeping guard on him.
"The Press-gang .P— No ; we belong to the
Marines. Can't you see our uniforms?" This
was followed by a hoarse laugh from the other,
and Brown felt more and more uneasy.
By this time the searching party had returned,
and passing a signal to the others, the leader of
the gang seized Brown suddenly by the arms,
and forcing them behind his back slipped a pair
of handcuffs over his wrists. "What in the
name of heaven do you mean? — What are you
going to do with me ?" he cried out, being now
thoroughly frightened.
" We are going to give you a sail in our yacht,
and then introduce you to the Lord High
Admiral. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Come, there will be
time er\ougli to thank us when we get you out
on the river."
" But you have got hold of the wrong man. I
begin to see it all now — you mistake me for
Grice; my name is Brown."
" Yes, yes, that's all right," said the leader ;^
"we have beard that yam before."
" I came here to point the man out to you,"
said Brown; "where is Law — Jack Law; he
knows all about it ; he will prove what 1 say."
" yoU) and Law too, for the matter of
that; we want no more of this talk, we have
wasted too much time already. Come, lads,
heave to, and help Mr. Brown on his way to dis-
tinction." After a short struggle, in which the
unfortunate major domo writhed and shrieked
with all his might, he was at length hoisted on
the shoulders of four of the gang, and carried
feet foremost out of the cottage.
"You will hang for this — all of you," he cried
out helplesi-ly. "My name is George Brown —
23
I am no sailor^ and never have been one — I am
head butler to Mr. Caleb Crossley, of Melville
House, and have been in his employ the last
twelve years. The man you want is Alfred Grice
— he escaped from the Prince E-upert some days
ago, and has been hiding here. 1 told Jack Law
where to find him, and now you are carrying me
off in mistake for him."
All this made no impression on his captors ;
they merely told him to shut up, and ketp his
breath to cool his porridge.
" If you wait for ten minutes the right man
will be here," persisted he ;" he has gone to a
shop yonder to buy some food. Grant me ten
minutes' grace, and seize the man Grice, and I
will give each of you five guineas."
" Do you happen to have the coin on you,
Mistar Brown ?" inquired one of them sarcasti-
cally.
" No, but I can get it — this very night if you
wish."
" Oh, curse the fellow !" blurted out the leader ;
*' we have wasted too much time already.
Heave ahead, men, and don't heed him ; there's
another job for us before we reach our ham-
mocks."
Therefore, despite all his appeals, promises,
shrieks, and threats, the doomed major domo
was hurried across the lone and deserted space
that lay between the old cottage and that part
of the river where the boat of the Press-gang was
moored.
In the meantime Alf Grice had hurried back
from the shop with all speed. Approaching the
old cottage, he heard the voice of his cousin
appealing to his captors, and also his own name
mentioned as being the real party they came to
impress. Understanding at once the character
of the men inside, he was about to turn and fly
from the spot, when the door was suddenly thrown
open, and some of the gang came forth, followed
by others carrying the shrieking Brown on their
shoulders. Crouching quickly beneath an elder
bush at hand, he remained concealed from view,
whilst he heard all that was said between Brown
and his captors. He could scarcely believe his
24
ears on hearing from the lips of his cousin the
dastardly plot that had been laid to place him in
the power of the dreaded Press-gang.
When the coast was at length clear, and the
distant cries of Brown grew fainter and fainter,
he sprang from his hiding-place, and hurried
away across the country in the direction of
Chester. From Chester he made his way round
by Warrington, and after the lapse of a week or
so he arrived in Liverpool.
The fate that had unexpectedly overtaken
Brown, the conversation that Grice had over-
heard from his hiding- phice, and the inconceiv-
able reason why one cousin should have laid a
trap for the impressment of the other, were
clearly understood when it became known that
the major domo was in love with Lillie Jackson.
Calt^b Crossley was shocked at what he had
heard of his favourite Brown, but at the same
time he was unfeignedly grateful at the fortunate
escape of Grico. He placed the latter in a res-
ponsible position in his office, with sufficient
remuneration to afford him the means of wed-
ding his betrothed at an early date.
Some weeks afterwards Brown was seen in
Liverpool, but he never returned to IVlelville
House. He was liberated from the Press-gang
through the agency of Jack Law, and learning
by accident that his plot against Grice had been
discovered, he suddenly quitted the good old
town, and his subsequent history is buried in
oblivion.
THE ENP,
THE VEILED LADY.
PART I.
Madame Hortense Unsworth, a French Cana-
dian lady, arrived in the port of Liverpool in the
October of 18o7, the year of the memorable
frost. She was a widow, very young and beauti-
ful, and was accompanied by an only child, a
little boy of about five years old. Although well-
dressed and a person of superior education and
manners, she was evidently in straitened circum-
stances, as her scanty supply of luggage would
indicate.
The evening was wet and stormy when she
landed, and, beiug a stranger to the town, slie
inquired from one of the porters where she could
get a comfortable lodging, as she did not wish
to stop at a hotel. The man dii'ected her to a
place in Hunter-street, then a notable lodging-
house for seafaring folk, and, calling to a man
who was waiting for a job, she gave him charge
of her trunk and a small parcel; and told him to
lead the way to the place mentioned.
The house in Hunter-street whs kept by one
Mrs. Mills, a stout, healthy-looking woman of
the usual lodging-house type; but, though she
was always willing to accommodate a male
boarder, she had a natural suspicion about letting
any females into her house. However, in this
instance, she was favourably impressed by the
appearance of the young widow and her child,
and willingly gave them the use of a back room
on the second floor at a moderate weekly rental.
The room was but scantily furnished — a small
flock bed and mattress, two cane-bottomed chairs,
a round deal table, and a little strip of carpet
in the centre. Nevertheless, it was very accept-
able to the sad and wearied lady after her long
26
and stormy sea voyago ; and, paying a week's
rent in advance, she gladly took possession of
her temporary home.
Lionel Unsworth, her lately deceased husband,
had been an officer in the British army stationed
at Montreal. He was the only son of a wealthy
wine merchant in London, and had respectable
prospects before him ii) tho event of his father's
death; but in direct opposition to his parent's
wishes, and deaf to the expostulations of his
friends, he left the counting-house where he was
about to be made a partner and bought himself
a commission in a regiment that was then about
to procesd to Canada. This, however, was not
the worst. As it to add insult to injury, shortly
after his arrival there, he became affianced to a
poor, but beautiful, French Canadian lady, a
foreigner, and thereby provoked his parent's
anger and contempt to such an extent that he
vowed he would never again recognize him as his
son, and would leave all that he possessed for
the benefit of London charitable institutions.
Lionel Unsworth, the father, was a widower,
and had no blood relations in the world but his
son. He was a man who had worked himself,
by perseverance and industry, from a humble
sphere in life to the comfortable position he now
occupied. He had httlo education, save that
which his commercial pursuits imparted, but he
was a man of iron will, and held the strictest
views regarding the duties of children to their
parents. About a year after the marriage of his
son he sold up his business in London and re-
tired to some out-of-the-way place in the country,
there to pass the remainder of his days in peace
and solitude. JS'ot long after this a rumour went
abroad that he had died, and that, in accordance
with his tlire it, all his wealth was bequeathed to
London hospitals, and other institutions. This
rumour had never reiiched the ears of his son,
and, as all correspondence between him and his
father had ceased, there were no means at hand
of learning the true position of afl'airs at home.
He was too well acquainted with his father's
character to attempt any immediate means of
reconciliation, but determined waiting until time
27
might have softened his anger and the course of
events afforded him a plausible opportunity of
doing so. If he could succeed in performing
soma great military act that should refloct credit
on his name and honour in his country, then
would be the time to approach his parent and
solicit forgiveness and reconciliation. In his
great desiie to accomplish this, Lionel was ever
foremost in offering his services whenever any
hazardous or dangerous duty was to be executed.
About this time there was considerable trouble
occasioned by some of the Indian tribes, and
Lionel was commissioned to take the command
of a company of his own regiment and assist in
the dispersion of a large and warliice tribe that
was committing murder and havoc among some
of the early settlers. In this expedition he un-
fortunately lost his life ; and, as he had no other
means but that arising from his pay in the
army, his wif,-, in consequence, waa left
almost destitute. Owing to his reticence
about matters at home, she was
wholly ignorant of the estrangement be-
tween him and his parent. When taking his
departure, however, on the fatal expedition, he
gave her the address of his father in London, and
also that of the solicitors who acted for him.
This was the only clue she had as to his rela-
tions in England, but, being very young and
ignorant of the ways of the world, she thought
it sufficient for the purpose she had in view.
When she had been about a month in the
lodgings in Hunter-street, her slender means
became almost exhausted, and she did not know
where to turn for the support of herself and
child. She had written repeatedly to the
address in London, but to all her letters no
answer was returned. She did not know anyone
to whom to apply for advice, and, being of a shy
and retiring disposition, was averse to let the
circumstances of her poverty be known. No
matter how she pinched and economized in her
expenditure, she was always compelled to find
the money to pay rent or face the alterna-
tive of being turned out on the shelterless streets.
For days she had to content herself with one
28
meal, so as to find a sufficiency, however plain,
for her darling boy, who was now the only one
she had to love and cherish in the world.
At length she grew so pale and thin that the
landlady, remarking it, brought her up a basin of
hot soup to nouiish her. This happened to be
the first mouthful of good food slie had tasted
for several days, but even so she divided it with
her little boy, though she had always managed
to shield him from the cravings of hunger. On
many occasions the little fellow caught her
weeping bitterly, and in reply to his childish
enquiries she always answered that she was
thinking of his father.
One day, when all her means were exhausted,
her trinkets and clothes all pledged, and no food
of any kind in the house, she went forth into
the busy streets, her brain almost bursting to
madness and a sense of hopeless despair at her
heart. What whs she to do.P Where was she to
turn in her terrible extremity ? She wandered
up and dovvn the streets in a dull, listless,
manner, looking now and then at the bakers'
and butchers' shops, the sleek and comfortable
people entering and leaving them, the crowds of
affluent and well-dressed folks passing to and
fro, the wagons and carts laden with provisions
and comforts of all kinds, and she, without a
farthing in the world wherewith to purchase a
morsel of bread. She could struggle against her
own hunger and suiierings, but she could not
bear to think that the young life of her child
should experience the pangs of starvation —
should cry in vain for food. Oh ! the thought
was maddening — horrible ! If she were but back
again in Canada the few friends she had there
would at least save her poor darling from starva-
tion. But things liad come to the worst now,
and something must be done. What was that
something that gradually took, form in her
mind — that only outlook in her distraction and
extremity. Alas ! it was the cruellest blow that
fate could inflict on a high and sensitive nature ;
she would have to stand on the highway and
hold out her hand to the passers-by for alms !
However, as she was passing a certain
29
butcher's shop in Scotland-road, a stout, florid
looking man, standing in the doorway, was
suddenly struck by her strauge look and pale f ice.
*' Hi! missus ! come here; I want to speak to
you," stidhe, beckoning her towards him. She
stopped, and approached him as requested. " I
say, missus, you look vei'y white — are you ill? "
he interrogated.
She helil her head down and blushed, and
although she intended telling him the truth, the
words seemed to stick in her throat.
" Come, come, let's know wjiat's to do wi'you ;
don't be ashamed of me, I'm ould enough to be
your fayther."
But the only reply she could make was to
burst into tears.
" God bless my soul, lass, you are hungry ! I
can see it in your face, and you're ashamed lolke
to own to it," said the good hearted butcher.
" Here, take this," and he slipped a shilling into
her hand. " Go and get tlieeself sumat to eat,
and call round and see me later on."
With a deep blush of shame, though a heart
overflowing with gratitude, she accepted the
protfere 1 coin, and then hurried off to her
lodgings, after purchasing what bread and other
nourishment she could on the way. " God
never leaves the poor entirely destitute," she
murmured to herself. " This good man has been
the means of saving two lives by his charity —
God bless him for it."
That night, after her further interview with
the butcher, slie was undisguisedly happy and
hopeful. She had told him her circumstances,
as far as it was necessary, and that she only
wanted employment of some kind to support
herself and her child. The good man promised
to use his influence to get her some needlework,
and in the meantime gave her some slops and
shirts to make for himself.
For some time after this she continued to earn
sufficient to keep the wolf from the door, though
she had oftentimes to sit up all night working
by candle light. It was late in the January of
the new year when the severe frost which set
in in January and continued until March was at
30
its height. She had a large number of shirts to
make by a certain time for a house in Lord-
street, and to manage this she had to deprive
her.^elf of several nights' sleep only snatching
a few moments at meal times to rest her wearied
eyes and fingers. At last she had completed her
task, and, making the shirts into a parcel to
carry to the shop, she kissed her little son affec-
tionately, promising to be back soon, and bring
him bon bons ;ind something nice for tea.
^^ hen she left the house on her errand, there
was a dense fog enveloping the good old town.
She hurried along Byrom-street and White-
chapel, in the direction of a large drapery es-
tablishment in Lord-street. All the lamps and
shop windows were ali^^ht, and the foot pas-
sei.gers and vehicles had to move cautiously on
their way on account of the severe frost and
thick fog. Notwithstanding this, she hurried
along as fast as she could, for she was anxious
to reach her destination in time and get some
money, the larder being entirely empty ; and,
besides, there were a few articles of clothing
which she wished to redeem that night. She
was so occupied with her thoughts, besides
being somewhat stupid and lightheaded from
want of proper rest, that when she reached the
junction of Whitechapel and Lord-street she
dill not hesitate before crossing the street, but,
thoughtless of danger, hurried on her way. The
next instant a cab driven at considerable speed
rushed upon her, and, before the driver conld
succeed in pulling it up, both horse and vehicle
p. ssed over her body. This happened in less
time than it takes to desci'ibe it, and owing to
the density of the fog could only be indistinctly
seen by those who were a few yards off. How-
ever, the sudden scream she gave utterance to
soon apprised them of what had occurred, and
a great shout of alarm from the people around
quickly brought an immense crowd to the spot.
The driver responsible for the accident managed
to get clear away under cover of the fog, and
the policeman arriving too late upon the scene,
no clue was left to establish his identity.
The immense crowd that had gathered around
31
could only discover a dark object with a white
girlish face lying huddled in a lieap without any
sign of life or movement. Mr. Hardman, a
then well-known townsman, happened to be near
the spot at the time, and, elbowing his way
through the densely packed crowd, at length
with the assistance of a policeman, lifted the un-
fortunate lady to a recumbent position. He was
greatly shocked at what had happened, and
looked down at the crushed piece of humanity
with inexpressible sadness and concern. There
was something in the pallid worn face so triste
and saintlike— in the thick masses of raven hair
that hung loosely about her— and in the thread-
bare clothes, which, nevertheless, were of costly
fabric, that made a powerful impression upon
him. Turning to the crowd of startled faces
about him, he inquired anxiously if there was
anyone who knew lier, but not a person there
gave an affirmative reply. She was a perfect
stranger.
At length a cab was hailed, and the poor inert
fragile form, was placed tenderly in it and taken
away to the Royal Infirmary. Mr. Hardman
accompanied the policeman to that institution
for the purpose of hearing the result
of the surgeon's examination, and also
to see if there were any papers on her by
which he could communicate with her friends.
On their arrival at the infirmary, the poor
victim was still unconscious, and to all appear-
ance dead ; and the doctors gave very little hope of
any favourable result. H er uockets were searched
for papers or anything that could throw light on
her name or residence, but the only writing they
found was the address of the solicitors in London,
and an affectionate letter from a female friend
in Canada, which had been written while she
was yet living in that country. Mr. Hardman
took a note of both these addresses, and left the
building with a sad and heavy heart as to the
probable fate of the unfortunate lady. Next
day he was obliged to sail for America, other-
wise he would have exerted himself to the
utmost to find out her friends, but, as it was, on
his return home that night he wrote a letter to
32
the solicitors mentioned, informing them of what
had occurred and begging them to acquaint her
friends at once.
That evening tlie parcel of sViirts was picked
up close to the [)lace of the accident, and from
the name on the paper wrapper enclosing them
its finder was enabled to dehver them to the
rightful owner.
A short time after this, a gentleman called at
Mrs. Mills' house, and told her, that her late lady
lodger was very ill, and had instructed him to
call and take her little boy to where she was.
He paid the landlady for any claims she had
against her late lodger and then departed,
taking little Lionel along with him.
Save a short paragraph in one of the papers,
all the circumstances of the afi'dr were forgotten
in the course of the next few days, and the busy
folk of the good old town proceeded on their
customary ways without giving any further
attention to the sad occurrence.
PART II.
Five yenrs had passed away, and Liverpool
continued to make prodigious strides in popu-
lation, commercial progress, and architectural
additions. The populous suburbs which now
surround us were separated by pleasant fields and
trim gardens, but the centre of the borough
proper was as busy with traffic and crowds of
eager people as it is at the present time.
About tliis period theie was a mysterious lady
dressed in deep black and closely veiled who
used regularly to frequent the most crowded
thoroughfares. She was always to be seen alone,
and seemed a perfect stranger to all the in-
habitants. If you watched her movements,
you would see that she pa-sed on to the end of
one street, and then, crossing over, r^-turned
along the opposifeside. She did not appear to
pay any atteuti<m to the foot passHiJgers or
shop windows, the fine dresses of the ladies, or
the exquisite deportment of the swells. When
she liaU paraded one street in this manner she
passed on to another, aud was seldom seen in
one street twice in tiie same day. After a time,
the people bey an to look upon her with in-
difterence, but always with an uncanny feeling
that there was something strange and
mysterious surrounding lier. The men and
business folk, as a rule, took little notice of her,
but the women, always observant of auytinng
unusual in dress, would scrutinize her keenly,
and turn round frequently to observe her
movements. Some would shake their heads or
smile, suggestive of eccentricity or old world
notions; but others, with more feeling, would
look sad and pitiful, as though satisfied in their
minds that the poor thii g was<!emented.
But this harmless habit of pirading the
streets began to develop in time into a practice
that caused considerable uneasiness to the
maternal instincts of the humbler classes. The
"mysterious lady," as she was called, would
station herself near the entrance to some school,
and, when the children Wcre dismissed at mid-
day or afternoon, she would carefully scrutinize
the face of each little urchin as he passed her,
and only take her departure when the last
child had left the school, lingular to say, how-
ever, she took no notice whatever of the girls,
and even boys who were under a certain age ap-
peared to have no interest for her. Of course
the youngsters, when acquainting their mothers
of the fact, dia not fail to exaggerate the ma'ter,
so, as a natural consequence, all soits of hob-
goblin personalities were attributed to the
mysterious lady. Some held that it augiu-ed
ill for the child she looked upon ; others that it
was a sure sign ot success in after life. By many
a fireside, when the nights were dark and the
wintry gale moaned down the chimney, im-
probable stories and wild speculations were
indulged in at her expense. Little cidldien
were threatened with all sorts of penaltits on
her account if they did not mend tijeir juvenile
ways and be obedient to their parents.
After a time there was scarcely a school in
34
town which she had not visited, and, whenever
the BUie Coat School boys wtre marching out,
she was always to be seen amongst the crowd
present, scanning with eager eyes their clean and
healthy faces. Whenever there was any great
gathering of children there she was sure to be,
no matter what the state of the weather or time of
day. No one, it was said, had ever seen her face,
and it was therefore impossible to form a correct
opinion as to her age, but from the gleam of her
restless eyes, seen through the veil, and the
graceful deportment of her figure, it was
generally concluded that she was comparatively
young. There were a few who had passed her
unknowingly at night time, when they were
suddenly startled by a heartrending sigh or
involuntary cry of despair, but other than this
there was nothing to show that the apparent
cause of her eccentricity was due to some great
sorrow or misfortune which embittered her life.
Whatever the real cause was, she kept ic to her-
self, hidden away impenetrably from all eyes.
One day a lidy was passing up Mount Pleasant
with her little boy. Ihe child happened by
accident to catch sight of this mysterious figure
behind them, and immediately urged his mother
to quicken her paces. The faster they walked,
however, the faster she appeared to follow them.
At length the lady, becoming seriously alarmed,
turned round and confionted her, when she
suddenly drew back confused and abashed, and
apologized in a gentle voice for her rudeness.
"She was under a wrong impression," she said,
" and thought it was some one else. "
On another occasion she happened to be at
the College, in Shaw-street, when a distribu-
tion of prizes was taking place. One of the
young scholars appeared particularly to arrest
her attention, and she rudely elbowed her way
through the intermediate spectators until she
got close enough to read his features dittinctly;
then, finding her mistake, she was overwhelmed
with shame and confusion and nearly fainted
away lor her temerity.
Her conduct was so strange and unusual, and
apparently so harmless, that in time she became
35
a sort of privileged person, and actions that
would have been fiercely resented in others
were altogether overlooked or condoned in her
case. If one of the new policemen were con-
sulted by an indignant mother, he generally
shook his head with a smile, and told her not to
heed the poor creature, as she was not all there.
On Sundays or holidays, when well dressed
parents, surrounded by their happy offsprings,
were wending their way towards the river for a
trip to the Cheshire side, she would hurry from
their pathway and pass down some lonely bye
street, as if unable to bear the merry voices of
the children or the look of happiness that sat upon
every face. The cry of pain from children
seemed to overwhelm her with inexpressible
terror, and their gladsome shouts of joy to fill
her with tears and trembling. In fact, the men
and women whom she met were so many passing
shadows in her ej^es ; the children alone the
real and concrete existence in the world.
After a time she was missed from her accus-
tomed haunts, and then the people who were
formerly indifferent about her began to display
considerable interest as to the cause of her dis-
appearance. A notable figure was absent from
their thoroughfares, and the oj^portunity lost
for satisfactorily explaining the mystery that
surrounded her. The Press genius of the period
had not yet evolved the redoubtable interviewer,
otherwise the public would have been better
posted up in matters that excited their curiosity.
A whole year had passed away, and people
had almost forgotten this familiar figure, when
lo! to their agreeable surprise, she appeared
amongst them again. Her step was not as
elastic and firm as before, her figure not so
erect and graceful, and her dress looked some-
what more shabby and worn. She did not gaze
suddenly into the faces of the passing children,
or pursue them to satisfy her curiosity as here-
tofore, but wandered aimlessly up and down
the streets, as though she had forgotten the
errand upon which she had come. A score of
years would seem to have passed over her head
in the interval, so that those who had voted her
36
young before were now inclined to confess tliey
were wrong.
One afternoon, late in September, there were
unmistakable signs of a severe thunderstorm
overhanging the town. Frequent showers had
cleared the streets of loiterers and pleasure-
seekers, and only those engaged in business, or
having imperative duties to perform, were to be
seen moving about. During the continuance of
an unusually heavy downfall, the veiled lady was
observed to take shelter in the doorway of a bye
street, close to a large hotel, where merchants
and other business men were in the habit of
dining. Standing at the window of this hotel,
gazing meditatively at the pouring rain, was a
tall, florid-looking gentleman,with grey whiskers,
and a handsome, intelligent face. He had just
left a friend with whom he had been conversing,
and, singular to say, the subject of their remarks
was no other than the mysterious person who
was now confronting him from the doorway
opposite. He gave a start on recognizing her,
and, as though there was something that seemed
to recall her to his memory, he remained gazing
fixedly and thoughtfully for some moments.
Although he had frequently heard his friends
speak of her, this was, indeed, the first time he
had seen her, and novy a strange, intangible some-
thing seemed to impress him that this person
and himself had met before under unpleasant
circumstances.
James Hardman was one of those prosperous
merchants whose mind was whollj' engrossed in
his business, and the outside incidents of life had
little or no claim on his attention. Nevertheless,
he was a kind, charitable man, and had quick
sympathies and a generous hand for the unfor-
tunate and needy. While he was standing there,
and endeavouring to piece together the incidents
of his past life, with the object of discovering
how and when he had seen that person before,
the rain seemed suddenly to abate, and the
shrinking, bedraggled form opposite, thinking she
was unobserved, quickly lifted her veil for the
purpose of satisfying herself that the rain had
passed away. This gave the merchant an oppor-
37
tunity to get a glimpse at her face. Then, like a
flash of lightning, the whole recollection of the
accident in Lord-street burst upon his mind.
He exclaimed suddenly to himself, " Why,
it's that young creature that was run
over some five or six years ago. I could not
be mistaken in that face ; it made a wonderful
impression on me at the time, but oh ! how
changed and worn it looks."
Without pausing a moment, he seized his hat
and hurried out precipitately to where she was
standing.
" Pardon me, madam," said he, approaching
her, " but if I mistake not, you are the lady who
met with a serious accident in Lord-street some
years ago ? I was one of those who accompanied
you to the infirmary, and from what 1 was led to
believe by the physicians there was little or no
hope of your recovery. I am heartily glad that
you falsified their gravest fears. Will you allow
me to congratulate you accordingly ?"
The lady drew back apprehensively, but said
nothing in reply.
" I got the address of your lady friend in
Montreal," proceeded he, " and as I happened to
be visiting the States at the time I made it my
business to wait upon her befwe returning to
England. She made me acquainted with your
name and sad bereavement, and requested me
on my return home to make further inquiries as
to your condition and send her all particulars.
As soon as I arrived here I carried out her
wishes, and then left the matter in her hands."
At the mention of her friend's name the poor
lady burst into convulsive tears, and any doubts
which he may havo entertained as to the cor-
rectness of his suspicions were immediately dis-
pelled.
After waiting till the paroxysm of her grief
had somewhat abated, he continued in a kindly
vein —
" Believe me, I am deeply interested in you,
and would like to do whatever I could to assist
you. Let me prevail upon you to enter tne
hotel and give me some information of your
circumstances. And what has become of your
88
little son, about whom your lady friend in
Montreal spoke to me?"
As if the bare mention of her child trans-
formed the whole nature of the woman, she
instantly raised her veil, and, turning towards
the merchant with tearful eyes, said — " God
bless you, sir ; God bless you for your sympathy
and kindness. You, alone, speak to me as
though I were a sane woman; all the other
people in this great town imagine that 1 am
mad : they will not believe that I ever lost my
darling — my little Lionel."
After getting her to accompany him to the
hotel, he gradually learned her past history and
the events that took place subsequent to the
accident in Lord-street, It seemed, after recov-
ering from her injuries in the infirmary, she
became temporarily insane, and had to be trans-
ferred to the asylum in Ashton-street, where
she remained for three years. When ultimately
released her first thoughts were to find her child,
and with this intention she went to the lodging-
house in Hunter-street. There she learned
that her former landlady was dead, and the
place had passed into the hands of a new
tenant, a stranger to the town, and wholly
ignorant of anything that had occurred during
the occupancy of her predecessor. Distracted
by this, and the little hope held out of recover-
ing her child, she almost became unsettled again
in her mind, but, as she expressed herself, " The
good God had mercy on me, and did not deprive
me of reason a second time." She hunted high
and low, making inquiries from every person
likely to know Mrs. Mills or her lodger, but all
to no purpose. The only thing she could glean
was that a gentleman called at Hunter-street
shortly after the date of the accident and took her
little child away with him. She applied to the
magistrates and policemen for assistance, but
they could do nothing for her ; in fact, they con-
sidered she was labouring under a hallucination,
and it was not to be wondered at, for she was
nearly beside herself with distress of mind.
At length, when Mr. Hardman was made
acquainted with the full history of the facts, he
39
turned kindly towards her, and said — '* You will
now leave the matter in my hands, madame,
and if your child is living I promise to restore
him to your arms."
This comforting promise seemed to overpower
her with gratitude, and, falling on her knees
before him, she seized his hand and kissed it in
mute reverence.
"Forgive me if I have not words to thank
you," said she. " My heart is full, but I do not
know your language sufficiently to express my-
self." " I shall be abundantly thanked," replied
he, " if I can be the means of making your life
happier. And now, you must not be offended
at a question I am going to ask you. What
means have you of earning a livelihood, and
where do you live at present? "
" I am doing some needlework for the Sisters
of Mercy at Mount Vernoa," replied she quietly ;
" they have been very kind to me, and seeing I
was a foreigner they got me lodgings in the
neighbourhood."
" You are not in want of any assistance then ?"
he inquired.
A pained expression came into her face, and
she shook her head in the negative.
" I see you are a lady and have been gently
reared," continued he, " and, therefore,! should
be sorry to say anything that would hurt you ;
but do not allow any morbid delicacy to pre-
vent you from accepting a little aid if you
require it."
She thanked him gratefully, but firmly
declined to accept of any assistance.
When the interview terminated, Mr. Hardman
went to his office and informed his managing
clerk that he was going to London on business,
and very probably would not return for some
days. On reaching the metropolis he called on
the solicitors who managed the elder Mr.
Unsworth's affairs, but after a prolonged inter-
view could extract nothing from them to throw
light on his errand. He did learn, however, that
the rumour of his death was false, and that he
was then living in some part of the provinces.
Pursuing his inquiries still further, he at length
40
discovered that Mr. TJnsworth was residing in
the neighbourhood of Hereford, and, having an
old schoolfellow, a clergyman, living there, he at
once determined to set out for the place.
Mr. Unsworth lived in a villa some distance
from the town, and was particularly exclusive in
his company and solitary in his habits. He
bore the character of being something of a
misanthrope, but Mr. Bard man's clerical friend
had entree to the villa, and promised to use his
endeavours to bring about an introduction. It
was after evening service on Sunday that a favour-
able opportunity presented itself. Mr. Unsworth
was returning home after church service, _ when
the clergyman at once approached hira with his
friend, and the desired introduction was effected.
'«Imust now leave you together," said_ the
reverend gentleman ; " I have to pay a visit to
some of my parishioners, but you will be rather
pleased than otherwise at my absence ; for T
am but poor company when two business men
like you wish to chat on commercial affairs."
When the clergyman took his departure, Mr.
Unsworth rather abruptly inquired if his com-
panion were a married man ?
" I am happy to say I am," was the reply,
" and the father of several children."
" Are they all alive and dutiful children ?"
interrogated the other.
" Well, I have six living — two boys and four
girls; two of the latter have only recently been
married. I have notliing to find fault with in
the matter of filial affection."
"Then you are a fortunate man," said Mr.
Unsworth impressively. "I am one of_ those
who have been singularly unhappy in my
married life. I lost my wife when I was only
beginning to appreciate her love and sterling
qualities, and my son when he had reached
manhood and was about to take my place in the
management of my business. I have ran de plenty
of money, and am comparatively wealthy, but I
have none of my kindred living to be the
recipients of my riches when \ am dead."
"That is certainly a sad reflection," remarked
his companion ; " it is bad enough to think that
41
all the wealth you laboured aud toiled for will
ultimately pass into the hands of strangers, but
the reality is even worse when one finds one-
self alone and friendless, without chick or child,
in the decline of life."
'' And believe me, Mr. Hardman, there never
was a father so wrapped up in his child as I was
in mine. Words cannot tell the suffering I ex-
perienced at his loss. My whole thoughts were
centred in him ; he was, indeed, the only com-
panion I had. Oh ! it was unparalleled cruelty
to have separated us."
" I can deeply sympathise with you," observed
the other, " but am I to understand that you
have no blood relations living?"
" Well, yes, there is a child living who is some-
what related to me, but he has foreign blood iu
his veins. I must make him a thorough English-
man in sympathies, manners, and feelings before
I have resolved to recognize him."
" And pray was your son married before he
died, Mr. Unsworth ?"
" Yes, he was, and, unfortunately, to a foreign
adventuress; one of those simpering French
women that bring more ruin to English homes
than war and pestilence. I wish the whole race
was swept off the face of the earth. I should
have been a millionaire at thirty if it was not for
the wars and aggressions of that cursed nation.
But I occupy too much of your time talking of
my own affairs ; the intensity of my grief must
be my only apology. I could feel for the meanest
wretch in the world who was bereft of an only
child."
" Yes, yes, I can thoroughly understand you ;
it is an affliction to draw pity from the most
obdurate heart. But, still, it is not wise to brood
too long over your loss. We all must learn to
bear with visitations of the kind. Why not
change the current of your thoughts and form
new associations ? For instance, this youth you
have just mentioned, he is your relative, and
likely to be your heir. Is there not enough to
occupy your thoughts and interest in having him
properly reared and educated to become a comfort
and an honour to you in your declining years ?"
42
" What you say is very true, and I have often
thought of it myself. I have the youth at pre-
sent stopping with me during the holidays, and
he is daily growing more and more in my affec-
tions. But come, my villa is close at hand ; you
shall see the boy for yourself, and give me the
beneht of your opinion."
" I shall be most happy to do so," replied Mr.
Hardman, turning up the avenue that led to the
villa.
After proceeding a short distance in silence the
latter gentleman said,
" Although I am singularly blessed in my own
family affairs, still I am not without knowing
several instances of parental bereavement that
bear a striking resemblance to yours. There is
one in particular which was recently told me,
and if you have no objection I will briefly relate
it to you."
Tlie other consented, and he proceeded as
follows : —
" There is a widow lady, a foreigner, at present
living in Liverpool, who met with a frightful
street accident some six years ago, She was con-
veyed in a senseless condition to the infirmaij'',
and, while an inmate of that institution, her only
child, a little boy of five years of age, was taken
from her, in fact, kidnapped. Bearing in mind
that she was in a strange land, her little boy, the
only one she had to live for in the world, and
she herself the most affectionate and loving of
mothers, it is one of the saddest and cruellest
cases that has ever come within my knowledge."'
" But if she happens to be poor/' put in Mr.
Unsworth, "those who have taken her child may
have done her a great service."
" That is all very well,'' returned the other,
" but what about her feelings of sorrow and deso-
lation at the loss of her child ? The feelings of
the poor father or mother are often more intense
and comprehensive than that of their wealthier
neighbours. When deprived of their offispring
the very light of their life is taken from them.
They have no comforts and attractions to lessen
the poignancy of their grief, no ceremonious
condolements and sympathy from powerful and.
43
affluent' friends, no alternative to quit the scene
of their bereavement and travel and distract
their minds in f ■ )reign lands. No, indeed, the bare
naked fact of their sorrow is ever staring them in
the face, and every incident of their lives —
narrow and circumscribed by circumstances —
recalls again and again the bitter loss they have
sustained."
During the latter part of this speech, Mr.
Unsworth did not appear at all at his ease, and
now that they had reached the villa he was
glad of the opportunity to change the subject.
" I think, as you very wisely said, that we
can brood too much on these matters. Let me
now show you my house and grounds, and then
I will introduce you to my httle jyrotef/e.^^
After some time spent in going over the place
with his visitor, he then led the way to the
library, and gave instructions that his nephew
was to be brought forward.
As soon as the boy entered the room, Mr.
Hardman gave an imperceptible start. The
features, bearing, and manners of the child at
once recalled the veiled lady to his memory.
The likeness was unmistakable. The dark brown
eyes, the hair somewhat lighter, but the self-
same pale, handsome, oval face, with an almost
identical expression. It was with great presence
of mind that he expressed his feelings and
assumed the appearance of an interested
stranger.
The boy was asked several questions as to his
proficiency at school, his special hkings and dis-
likings, and numerous other interrogations that
the occasion called forth, all of which he
answered in a plain, straightforward manner.
Mr. Unsworth then turned to his friend and
asked him what he thought of his young charge.
" I shall be glad to give you my opinion," re-
marked he, rather seriously, " if you direct the
boy to leave the room."
Little Lionel, therefore, was instructed to
leave their presence, and the master of the house,
somewhat disturbed by the apparent change in
his friend's manner, awaited with considerable
anxiety what he had to say.
44
Mr. Hardman's courteous civility and pleasant
bearing had given place to a stern, determined
manner and a severe expression of countenance.
" Mr. Unsworth," said he, in a cold, magis-
terial tone of voice, " I mentioned to you just now
the case of a lady in Liverpool whose child was
stolen away while she was stretched between life
and death in a public hospital. I am acquainted
with this poor lady, and I have promised to find
her child and restore him to her arms before many
days have passed. Up to this I have been en-
gaged in my search, and now I am happy to say
that I have succeeded in finding the child."
If a thunderbolt had fallen at Mr. Unsworth's
feet he could not have been more astounded. He
started back several paces, and a ghastly pallor
-overspread his face.
** I took you for a gentleman, sir, not a de-
tective in disguise," said he, as soon as he could
recover his speech.
" Here is my card, sir," retorted Mr. Hard-
man rather warmly; "and my friend, the Rev.
Mr. Joyce, can abundantly satisfy you as to my
position. I undertook this duty solel}' out of
pity and sympathy for the sorrows of a sorely
afflicted lady. I can plainly see, from the con-
versation which we have had, that you are under
a wrong impression with regard to your daughter
in-law. I have a wide circle of educated friends,
many acquaintances amongst the titled, and
fashionable classes in this country ; and, what
is more, two grown-up daughters, carefully
reared and tutored, and I can confidently say
that a sweeter, purer, and more amiable lady
than Madame Unsworth I have never had the
good fortune to meet with. What a blessing
and comfort such a person would be to you in
your latter years, to supply the place of a
daughter in your vacant family cu'cle ! The
crass stupidity and persistent folly of some
people in thrusting aside the blessings that
have been thrown in their way is one of the most
remarkable proofs of the littleness of our nature
and the limited area of our penetration."
Mr. Unsworth remained standing with his
head bowed down listening silently to what
46
was said. He was well aware of the penalty he
bad incurred in abducting the child, and that a
criminal prosecution could be entered against
him. He also knew that he had to deal with a
man of position and means, and one who would
not be easily turned aside from doing his duty,
however disagreeable. As to the identity of
the child, he did not for a moment dream of
disputing it; for he took no measures in securing
himself from detection, being under the im-
pression that the mother would never recover
from her accident. " With the recovery of the
child," proceeded Mr. Hardman, " my business
comes to an end, but, for your sake, and for the
sake of the lady herself, I should gladly like to
be the means of bringing about an interview
between you. I am confident, when you have
seen the lady and know her, that your opinion
in regard to her will be greatly altered."
It was evident from this that the speaker's
undertaking was one of pure philanthropy, and
that there was no reason to anticipate any un-
pleasant eventualities; besides, if he consented
to a meeting with Madame Unsworth, it would
be a means to free himself of the questionable
position in which he was placed. Therefore,
after some further conversation, he promised to
give Mr. Hardman's proposal his consideration,
and to give him his decision by the following
morning.
" Heaven assist you in your reflections," said
the good merchant, piously. " I will say nothing
more now, but leave all to your better in-
fluences."
Scarcely a week had elapsed before a meeting
was arranged between Madame Hortense Uns-
worth and her erewhUe implacable father-in-law.
The interview was productive of the most happy
results, and went far to fulfil Mr. Hardman's
most sanguine expectations. Not long after
this she was invited to take up her residence at
the villa, and soon became by her affectionate
nature, gentle manners, and cultivated tastes,
the ruling spirit of the household.
Some years passed away, and at length the old
man died, and young Lionel, grown to be as fine
46
and noble a young fellow as any in the land, in-
herited all his wealth. The good Mr. Hardman's
name was never omitted from the family prayers
at the villa, and, when in time he too passed
away, full of years and honours, there were
none in the cortege that followed him to the
grave whose sorrow was deeper, or loss greater,
than Madame Unsworth and her son Lionel.
THE
FATE or ABEL WALLWORTH.
At some distance from Liverpool there stood
a substantial brick house, separated from the
highway by a small park, through which an
avenue of trees led up to the hall door. In the
rear there was a considerable extent of ground,
consisting of a large orchard, a tastefully laid-
out garden, and two cultivated fields reaching
down to the banks of the Mersey, almost
opposite to the place where New Ferry now
stands. The orchard and garden were sur-
rounded by a high wall, surmounted by chevaux-
de-frise, and a massive door acted as a means of
communication between them and the out-
lying fields. When Abel Wall worth, a prosperous
general merchant, retired from business he
selected this house as a suitable place in which
to spend the autumn of his days in well earned
comfort and tranquillity.
At the time this story opens he had been
residing at Elm-tree House, the name by which
the place Avas known, for five years, and his
family consisted of an only child — a daughter,
then about eighteen years of age, and upon
whom devolved the entire management of his
household affairs. He had married late in life,
and shortly after the birth of his daughter was
left a widower. He did not, however, enter a
second time the married state, but turned his
mind with redoubled energy to business, and
showed no disposition to keep up a style of living
compatible with his income and social status.
He was a man whose every thought and effort
was devoted to money making, one who could
never feel content but when engaged in the
bustle and stir of trade. However, when he
ultimately retired from business, it was some-
48
what singular that he should turn his back upoa
all his most trusted and intimate frieuds in trade,
and resign himself wholly to a life of the
strictest seclusion and privacy. Yet, so syste-
matically did he carry this out, that, in the
course of a few years he was almost entirely for-
gotten, and even the most familiar of his late
companions did not dare to invade the quietude
of his self-imposed solitude.
But the busy brain that had been occupied so
long in the ways of commerce could not adapt
itself all at once to a life of quiet contemplation
and absolute inertness. He still found something
to engage his attention, and give his natural
habits a plausible opportunity of whiling away
the inevitable hourS. A passionate love for pets
of all kinds, whether beasts, birds,
or fishes, seemed to afford him the one
great pleasure of his solitary life. He had
parrots that would talk with incredible pert-
ness, canaries that kept the house in a general
uproar of song, dogs of wonderful sagacity and
intelligence; and last, though not least, an
immense orang-outang, which had been trained
and tutored to such perfection that if the late
Mr. Darwin had had the opportunity of seeing
him, he would have unhesitatingly pronounced
him the redoubtable missing link. Indeed, there
were some who solemnly averred that the brute
was nothing more nor less than an
African nigger; and, as Abel Wallworth had
made the greater part of his wealth in the slave
trade, they slyly hinted that his affection and
kindness for this lucky member was an act of
compensation on his part for his former dealings
with that unfortunate race. The greater portion
of the building, to the disgust of his daughter,
was allotted to the service of this medley
company ; and in the feeding, training, cleaning,
and attending upon them the former hard-
hearted business man found ample employment
and attraction to fill up the recurring round of
his daily life.
Abel Wallworth was understood to have
retired from business immensely rich, and his
daughter Clara was destined to inherit all that
49
he possessed. Yet, strange to say, he seemed
to take no steps to get her a suitable partner fcr
life, and, what was stranger stUl, she appeared
to give herself no concern about the possibility
of such a contingency. The father would often
say that he had kept himself a widower for her
sake, and the least she could do was to remain
single until he had " shuffled off this mortal
coil."
One pleasant summer afternoon Mr. Wall-
worth entered his sitting-room, looking unusu-
ally grave and thoughtful. He was followed by
his inseparable companion the orang-outang,
dressed somewhat in the garb of Mephistopheles,
but affording an ungainly and awkward repre-
sentation of that distinguished and ubiquitous
personage. This denizen of the forest stood
about five feet high in his scarlet shppers,and had
the appearance of being very stupid and sleepy,
although, like many other specimens of his more
advanced brethren, his looks somewhat belied
him. In the opinion of his master, it only
required two or three generations forward,
with proper development and training, to
make his grandchildren the equal, if not the
superior, of the most gifted and intellectual of
the human branch. He had an unpleasant
habit of continually scratching himself, even in
the best society, notwithstanding that Mr. Wall-
worth subjected him to frequent ablutions in
the Mersey, at the bottom of the fields. With
this exception he was very docile and tractable,
and, no doubt, this bad habit would be overcome
in time. What specially commended him to
attention was his remarkable placidity of temper ;
he was quite the antipodes in this respect
to his master, and strange to say, was the
only one of his pets that never exasperated or
annoyed that naturally excitable gentleman.
The window of this apartment overlooked
the garden with its trim flower beds and
picturesquely laid-out walks, and beyond this
again could be seen the large orchard, with its
numerous fruit trees in full blossom. Inside the
room were several fanciful cages, occupied by
canaries and goldfinches, and immediately in front
50
of the window was a large Amazon green parrot,
that appeared to contemplate with silent but
intense curiosity the sudden entrance of Mr.
Wallworth and his ungainly companion.
Abel Wallworth was a small-sized man, very
stout and florid, with a bald head, and bright,
intelligent face. In his normal state he always
seemed to be in a great hurry about something ;
bustling and fidgeting about the most trifling
things, as though the well-being of the State
depended on his carrying them through with all
possible despatch. On this occasion, however,
he walked into the room with slow and steady
footstep, his head bent forward, as if in deep
and serious thought, and an expression of unmis-
takable concern on his otherwise pleasant and
jolly face. He threw himself wearily into an
armchair, without taking the customary notice
of his pets in the cages, and signified to his com-
panion, whose name was Rajah, that he wished
the bellrope to be pulled.
On the servant answering the summons, he
intimated that he wished to speak with his daugh-
ter, and a short time afterwards that young lady
entered the room, looking somewhat flurried and
anxious. She saw at a glance that something
unusual had occuired, and at once gave expres-
sion to the concern she felt.
" Tou look pale and ill, father; has anything
happened to you ?"
" Well, I have had another of those fits, my
dear, and do not feel quite the thing; but no
doubt the effects will soon pass away. Sit down,
Clara, I want to speak to you seriously."
The young lady looked with repugnance at
Rajah, who was seated on a low stool at her
father's feet, and expressed a wish that the ugly
brute might be removed while she remained in
the room.
" The ugly brute, faugh ! Turn him out, turn
himout," quoth the parrot, breaking silence for
the first time. " What business has he in the
parlour, dressed and fed like a Christian, too.
Oh dear, oh dear ! what are we coming to ?"
The old merchant looked with a mixture of
anger and astonishment at the bird, but that
51
worthy appeared to take no notice of him, but
continued talking away, as it swung itself
jauntily to and fi"0 on the ring in the cage.
" Bundle him out. Ugh ! the nasty brute. Here,
you get the sweeping brush and I'll take the
poker. Don't go too near him, though, he might
bite. Take that, and that, and that. Ha !
would you ? Out you go, out you go." And then
followed a sound resembling a door being clapped
to, and, proceeding in an altered and indignant
voice, it said, " I'll give notice at once. I'll not
stop another day here if that brute is allowed to
ramble about the house as he likes. Dear, dear !
the infatuation of that old fool to make a pet of
such a thing !'''
Then the parrot ceased speaking, while the
old merchant, evidently annoyed, stood up and
led Rajah out of the room. Just as the door
closed after him the bird simulated a hearty fit
of laughter, which had the effect of bringing a
faint smile to the otherwise pale and anxious
face of the young lady. Of all his pets Rajah
was the most favoured one, and it annoj'ed him
very much, when even his daughter displayed
that natural fear and repulsion which all females
appear to entertain for quadrumanes of the larger
size.
When he returned to the room, however, he
motioned his daughter to take a seat beside him,
and then, without further preliminary, opened the
subject about which he required her presence.
''As I said just now, Clara, I want to speak
very seriously to you, and I am wishful that
you should pay particular attention to what I
am about to say."
After pausing for a short time he proceeded
again.
" I begin to feel that I cannot be much longer
with you ; day by day I am growing feebler and
less able to take that exercise so indispensable
to my health ; and these frequent fits which I
have had lately till me with the gravest fears.
I therefore feel anxious to have you married
and settled in life before the final moment
arrives. I fear I have postponed the matter
too long already."
52
" Dear father, you grieve me by talking thus,
said she, sensibly moved by his serious tone and
manner. " Let my future life cause you no
anxiety; I feel quite happy as I am."
"But, my child, that would never do; 1
must have you properly settled in life ; then I
shall have fulfilled my duty as your parent. Now,
listen to me. I have nothing, as you know,
but your welfare and happiness at heart. I
have given this matter serious consideration of
late, ami I have arrived at a conclusion tjiat in
my opinion will be eminently advantageous to
you and in every sense agreeable to me. There
is an old friend of mine, a West India planter,
who has recently retired from business with a
quarter of a million of money. He has an only
son, who, by all accounts is a most worthy
young gentleman, and it is his earnest wish,
seeing the large fortune that he will inherit,
and the dangers surrounding a young man with
his prospects, that he should meet with a young
Ifcdy of his own social standing, with the
undisguised object of marrying her and speedily
settling down in life. With this intention he
has commended his son to my charge, and in
plain words asked him to be introduced to you;
for Mr. Langley — that is the name of my friend
— saw you before he left England, now about ten
years ago, and from what he remembers of you,
is perfectly satisfied that you would make a most
desirable wife for his son. In addition to this,
1 have received the highest character regarding
the young man himsolf, aud he is also described
as being both handsome and accomplished; so
there can be nothing on that head to give rise
to objection.
Then the old merchant glanced inquiringly
at his daughter, but she made no effort to say
anything in reply, only keeping her eyes fixed
steadfastly on the carpet at her feet.
'•I have, therefore," he continued, " invited him
to pay us a visit next week, when, I have no
doubt, an affectionate understanding will be
arranged between you, and the first stej) taken
to ensure the happiness and welfare of both of
you in the future."
53
" Oh ! father," said Clara, at length bursting
into tears, " I wish you did not take such pains
to get rid of me. 1 do not want to marry ; I
am perfectly contented with the life I am lead-
ing, and have no desire to change it.''
" That is all very well, my dear, but we must
look a little ahead of us. You will not always
have me with you, and from the knowledge
which you have of the world audits ways, I dare
not venture to think what would become of you
and .your fortune if left to your own resources.
Things have come to this pass that something
must bo done, and before I am taken away from
you, I wish to arrange everything for your
advantage and happiness.''
" But, sir, you seem to overlook one thing,
and that the most important," replied his
daughter. " I cannot possibly marrj' a man whom
I do not love, and from what you have just said,
you seem to think that I should fall in love with
a person whom I have never seen."
'' Have I not told you that he is rich, hand-
some, and of good character ; what more can be
wished for ? A man with such a trinity of per-
fections is good e^ugh for a princess, much less
Abel Wallworth's daughter."
This was said testily, and with some bitter-
ness, as he thought he discovered a disposition
on his daughter's part to thwart his plans.
" One thing, however, 1 must insist on, sir,"
persisted she, ' ' and that is that 1 will not
receive this young gentleman in any other light
than that of a new acquaintance."
There was something so decided in the tone
in which this was uttered that it jarred unplea-
santly on the old man's mind. He became
suddenly grave, and then turned a searching
look upon his daughter.
" I am surprised to hear you speak in that
way, Clara ; it looks as though you have already
determined to oppose my wishes."
" No, sir, it is my earnest desire to meet you
in all things; but, in a matter of this nature, it
is better that we understood each other at first.
I have no desire to marry, at least during your
lifetime, and even if I had — deeply as I love and
54
respect you — I could not transfer my affections
at your command."
" Transfer your affections ! What do you
insinuate by that, pray ? Is your indiscreet
folly with that fellow Harding still unforgotten ? ' '
Here he grew red in the face and fidgeted
nervously in his seat. He was gradually lashing
himself into a passion, which was no unusunl
thing with him when the slightest opposition was
offered to any of his plans. The very memory
of that fellow Harding, as he called him, had the
same effect upon him as that of a red rag oh an
infuriated bull. He jumped to his feet angrily,
and commenced walking up and down the room
with hurried steps.
" You must not drive me to extremes, young
lady," said he, taking for granted that his sus-
picions were well-founded, "I have already told
you what I would do if you held any communi-
cation with that scoundrel, and by heavens ! I
will carry it out, if you give me the least cause
for suspicion,"
" Hush ! hush ! keep calm, keep calm, there's a
good fellow," interrupted the parrot, at this junc-
ture.
" D — that bird ! "Will some one take it
away !" exclaimed he, now thoroughly aroused.
" This is some of those infernal kitchen husseys'
work." And he shook bis fist threateningly at
the bird.
" Oh, fie! oh, fie! Naughty words, naughty
words," reiterated Poll, looking down compla-
cently at him.
"You should not call Mr. Harding a scoun-
drel, sir," said C'lara, drawing herself up and
looking very pale.
"Oh, indeed," observed he, repressing his ire
for the moment, and throwing all the sarcasm he
could into his words; " I must be circumspect
in the language 1 use towards him, eh .''
I lifted him out of the gutter and made a decent
man of him, 1o be sure ; I pitchforked him over
the heads of his fellow clerks to a confidential
position, sure enough; I did all I could to make
an honoTirable and respectable man of him, more
fool I ; but no, he could not altogether forget his
55
origin, and sneaked into the bosom of my family
to tilch away my only child's affections. Oh ! I
must be very careful what I say about this
gentleman. But by heavens!" Here no longer
able to contain himself, he struck the table
fiercely with his hand, and poured forth a volley
of the most uncomplimentary epithets on the
devoted head of the unfortunate Mr. Harding.
So loud was his voice, and so excited his gesticu-
lations that the parrot, accustomed to cry out
** Murder and help," when any unusual disturb-
ance occurred,screamed out at the top of its voice
" murder ! murder ! murder ! help ! help ! help !"
untU the shrill cries of the bird absolutely
drowned the angry tones of the infuriated
master. Almost beside himself at this
interruption, and white with suppressed rage,
he rushed towards where the bird was with
the intention of seizing the cage and dashing it
on the floor, when thw fortunate occupant sud-
denly ceased its cries for help, and in an altered
and affectionate tone of voice — a good imitation
of the young lady's — said, " You look pale and
ill, fatiier ; has anything happened to you ? "
So grotesque, and yet so apposite was this at
the moment that it quite took the old man
aback, and he looked at the bird, half doubting
in his mind whether it did not bear a similar
character to that attributed to the raven in poor
Edgar Allen Poe's mystical ballad.
If this little incident had not the effect of
wholly allaying his anger, it was the means, how-
ever, of considerably modifying it. He turned
away from the bird without uttering a word, and
continued his promenade up and down the room.
In the meantime Clara sat with a pockethand-
kerchief to her face, weeping bitterly. The lull
that ensued was taken advantage of by the
canaries and finches, who commenced chirping
and singing boisterously, in grateful recognition
of a golden stream of sunlight that entered the
room from the departing luminary. It had a
most soothing and softening effect at the
moment, and did not fail to influence to some
extent the ruffled temper and excited manner of
the old merchant.
56
After walking up and down the apartment for
some time, he at length returned to his seat, and,,
in a voice still stern, but more collected, renewed
the subject,
"I will not excite myself any more in my
endeavours to teach you your duty to me and
to yourself, but this much I will say, that if you
do not conform to my wishes in the manner re-
ferred to, I am resolved that you shall not have
a farthing of my money. You know my
character pretty well, and that whatever I say I
will do ; and I was never more determined on
anything in ray life than I am in this matter.
Keep up a clandestine correspondence with that
— that fellow 1 have mentioned, and become a
pauper all your life. Follow my advice, and
become attached to mx protege, Alfred Langley,
and you will be the richest and happiest lady in
the land. I give you until next week, the day
Mr. Langley arrives, to make up your mind,
and, if you have the interest of your own welfare
at heart, and a true sense of the duty you owe
me, there ought to be no doubt about your
decision. This is my ultimatum, and I will not
alter or modify it in one iota."
Saying which, he stood up from his seat, and,
without even glancing at his daughter, passed
out o 1 the room.
As soon as he had closed the door, Clara, with
sudden resolve, rushed after him, as though to
call him back, but, changing her mind before she
reached the door, she stood motionless for some
seconds, uncertain what to do; then, in an out-
burst of grief and despair she exclaimed,
" Oh ! what a miserable coward I am not to
have told him all ! but the excess of his passion
and anger terrifies me, and I have not the
courage to face the results. I must now let
events take their course, and prepare for the
worst."
Five days had passed away since the inter-
view previously described, yet father and daugh-
ter, although they met ac meal times each day,
did not exchange a word save in monosyllables.
The old merchant appeared gloomy and morose,,
and was continually finding fault with the-
57
slightest mistake or oversight . In his manner
he seemed to treat his daughter with a cold
superciliousness, as though she were some poor
relation or dependant. On the other hand, Clara
seemed hvimbled and broken-spirited in his pre-
sence, but when alone in her own apartments a
smile of triumph would light up her face, and
she would oftentimes go about her duties hum-
ming snatches of song.
Clara Wallworth was a young lady of consider-
able personal attractions. She was tall and
stately in figure, resembling her mother in this
respect, with the grace and deportment of an
empress. Her face represented in outline and
feature the very highest type of Saxon beauty ;
she had an abundance of rich yellow hair, which
she was careful to arrange and dress to the best
advantage. Since the estrangement with her
parent she displayed less attention than usual to
her personal appearance, but on the morning of
the sixth day she arrayed herself in her richest
robes and bedecked her head and throat with
the costliest gems that she possessed. When she
entered the breakfast room on this morning her
father was agreeably surprised to see the change
in her dress, and although he made no remark
at the time, still he thought it augured well for
the triumph of his cause. But this was not all ;
she seemed animated with the best of spirits,
laughing and joking repeatedly through the
meal, and fulfilling the duties of the table with
all the graceful attention as of old. Her plea-
sant manner and good humour were too much for
the old man's gloomy reticence ; so, after a
time, they talked and joked together as though
nothing had occurred, taking care, however, to
avoid the dangerous subject that had so lately
estranged them. When the meal was finished
and she retired from the room, the old mer-
chant nodded his head, and winked knowingly
to himself, as much as to say, " She is coming to
a sense of her duty at last ; take my word for it,
she will capitulate and sue for mercy before
young Langley arrives."
On the afternoon of this day, as he and his
'* Achates ''— Rajah — were proceeding down the
58
main walk of the garden, he noticed his daughter
in her walking costume enter a side door that
led from the small park in front to the back part
of the premises. He was dressed in overalls,
such as sailors wear, with a scrubbing-brush and
a bundle of towels under one arm, while to the
wrist of the other was fastened a strong steel
chain, which was also attached to the arm of his
companion. He was going down to the Mersey
to give Rajah his customary dip, and, as that
individual did not particularly relish the bath ,
he was obliged to have him secured by a cliain
while undergoing the operation. On perceiving
his daughter, he paused for a moment, and
beckoned her to approach him. When she came
near enough to him he could see that her face
was flushed, as if with over exertion, and she
appeared to have just returned from a long and
fatiguing walk. There was also a look of ill-
disguised guilt in her eyes, but this evidently
escaped his observation.
"What has become of the servants, Clara ?" in-
quired he, with a face expressive of astonishment.
" Oh ! how stupid of me not to have told you,"
replied she, with great presence of mind. " I was
induced to give them a holiday. They asked my
permission to go to a wedding, and I did not like
refusing them, especially as they have not had a
holiday for some time. 1 shall be happy to do
whatever you may require in their absence."
" I do not think it was wise to have let them
both go," he remarked.
" Well, I thought it best, as they would be
company to each other ; and Annie, who was
invited to a wedding, did not know the way to
Walton, while the other did. I told them to
remain all night with their friends, and return
here first thiugin the morning."
'* I expect a visitur to-morrow," said he, glancing
for a moment at his daughter, " and it would be
very inconvenient if they were not at their posts."
'' There is no occasion to have any fear on
that head, father," said she, casting down her
eyes ; " they are certain to be here early to-
morrow. But what were you wanting, sir ? Can I
be of any service to you ? "
59
" Oh, no ; I have managed all that I wanted
myself ; I merely required a large fire lighted ,
and blankets prepared for Rajah. The day is
somewhat chilly, and I wished to take precau-
tions against his getting cold after his bath."
After saying this he turned away, and pro-
ceeded towards the large door at the bottom of
the orchard. Clara, for a moment, stood look-
ing after him with a strange sad expression of
fac^, and then, suddenly recovering herself,
returned hastily to the house.
If the old merchant's manner seemed
unusually quiet and subdued, that of his
daughter was strangely excited and nervous.
Very likely she expected that he would have
taken the absence of the servants in a different
spiiit, and, no doubt, felt somewhat upset until
he was acquainted with the fact.
On entering the building she made the best
of her way to her own apartments, and com-
menced packing up her dresses, jewellery, and
nick nacks, as though making a hasty prepara-
tion for a long journey. She seemed much
agitated during the process, and every now
and then cast a glance at the small French
clock on the chimneypiece. When everything
she could think of was packed away, she carefully
locked and fastened her trunks, and then pro-
ceeded to her father's sleeping chamber, which
was situated at the other side of the house.
Before passing along the corridor she paused for
some time, listening attentively for any sound
that might indicate his return. Satisfying her-
self that all was right on this head, she glided
noiselessly along the passage, and, finding the
door of his room unlocked, she pushed it quietly
open and entered. On a small table near the
head of his bed was a leathern case containing
two loaded pistols. These he was in the habit of
keeping for use against burglars and thieves,
there oftentimes being a considerable amount
of money in the strong box in the room. Clara
cautiously removed the pistols, replacing the
case again on the table, and then without further
delay quitted the room.
After hiding the pistols away in one of her
60
own apartments, she then proceeded downstairs-
to attend to some household duties, and
prepare tea for her father on his return to
the house. The room in which he generally
partook of tea was connected by folding doors
with another apartment which was called the
library. As you passed from the one room into
the other, a large mahogany bookcase stood on
the right, filled with a moderate supply of
classical and popular literature of the time, and
suspended from the wall that immediately
faced you was a valuable life-size portrait of
Clara's mother, dressed in the prevailing fashion
of the period. Strange to say, this room, except-
ing of course the sleeping chambers, was the
only apartment in the house without the
inevitable bird cages ; not even Rajah was
permitted to intrude his presence within its
precincts. The old merchant had a sort of
religious reverence for this place, and, whenever
he neglected going to church on Sundays, he
would spend some hours in this room either
reading his Bible or otherwise devoutly engaged.
As Clara was arranging the table for tea, she
happened to raise her eyes and glance incidentally
at the portrait of her mother, which was dis-
tinctly visible thi'ough the partially opened
folding doors. Whether it was fancy or not, she
thought there was a stern commanding look in
the eyes and'an expression of angry surprise on
the face which she never remembered noticing
before. The figure itself appeared as though it
were about to step bodily from the canvas and
sternly upbraid her for what she was going to do
that night. All her secret plans and imfilial
plots were suddenly unmasked to those penetrat-
ing, immovable eyes. For some moments she
remained rooted to the spot, experiencing all the
indefinable fear and terror that a supernatural
visitation exerts. Her own conscience magnified
the enormity of her intentions, making her appear
in the eyes of her dead parent, whom she rever-
enced as asaint,to be an unnatural criminal of the
darkest dye. At length, by a superhuman eflbrt,
she seemed to break through the trance-like
nfluence that oppressed her. Pale as a sheet.
61
and trembling in every limb, she rushed head-
long from the place. As she hurried along the
hall to a distant part of the building, she
chanced to pass the open door of the room where
the parrot already mentioned was located.
That worthy, catching a glimpse of her passing
form, instantly called out in a deep, guttural
voice, *' Ha ! I have you ; I have you !" In the
excitement of the moment she mistook the bird's
voice for that of her offended mother, and
clutching quickly at the bannisters, she glanced
over her shoulder and uttered a loud scream of
terror.
She almost fainted away; but presently dis-
covering the cai7se of her new fear by the parrot
continuing to chatter and scream in imitation of
her, the courage and nerve that forsook her
returned, and she smiled almost contemptuously
at the silly fancies that had affrighted her. "It's
all imagination and conscience," said she, in a
low voice to herself. " I must not allow myself
to be unnerved in this way, or all is lost. I will
go at once to my room and send Alfred a note
that everything is prepared. It is now growing
dark, and what we have to do must be done
quickly. If my father would return and have
his tea the road would be then perfectly clear."
She went upstairs to her room, and getting
her pen and paper wrote the following letter to
Alfred Harding : —
My Dearest Alfred. — All is now completed as far
as I can go. The servants have been sent away, and
•will not return before morning, the dogs are locked up
in one of the cellars, so they cannot give anywarn-
ingofyour approach. I am now alone in the house,
my father having sone out some time ago to give
Rajah his bath. When he returns he will spend an
hour or so with his pets, and then retire to the
library. While he is there it will be perfectly safe
for you to enter. I will give the signal from my
window, and leave the back door open for you. Do
not fail to be on the watch, as I am sadly in want of
your support and sympathy. What I have suffered
in reviewing the consequences of this act no one will
ever know. I sometimes feel that my resolution will
give way and my heart lose its courage ; but no, I will
struggle on to the end, when I shall receive abundant
compensation in the arms of my beloved. CLARA.
62
After folding this letter up and sealing it,
she went to her window and beckoned a little
boy towards her, who was loitering outside,
apparently waiting for the message. She then
threw herself wearily into a chair, and with a
deep sigh prepared to await the issue of events.
******
It was ten o'clock next morning when the
servants returned to Elm Tree House. The
outer gate was unlocked — a very unusual thing —
and there was no sign of anyone stirring as
they proceeded up the drive. They passed
through a side door leading to the back of the
premises, and could hear the canaries singing
and calling, and the parrot screaming and
whistling in full concert. The dogs, however,
were nowhere to be seen, but they could
faintly detect them barking and whining in
some distant part of the building.
On entering the house something strange and
unusual seemed to have occurred, but they could
not for the life of them assign any reason for
this singular impression. Passing down to the
kitchen they found the fire unkindled, the
furniture and uteni^ils as they had left them
the day before, and no sign whatever of any
preparations for breakfast. Naturally enough,
they thought that their master and mistress had
overslept themselves, and without taking any
further notice they set about lighting the fire
and putting the things in order. While thus
engaged, however, the dogs kicked up an
unearthly noise, crying and whining plaintively
in some part of the house. The}'^ at once pro-
ceeded to discover the cause of this disturbance,
when they found the poor brutes locked up in a
damp, unused cellar in the basement. This
struck them as very strange, their mister being
most particular that the dogs should be con-
lined to their own kennels and supplied with
comfortable bedding for the night.
After a time one of the servants went up
stairs to Clara's bedroom for the purpose of
awakening her, but, receiving no answer to her
repeated knocks, she pushed the door open and
entered. The room appeared in the greatest
63
disorder, the floor littered with torn
paper and articles of clothing, the
furniture upset or straggling about out
of their proper places ; and every indication
that the bed had not been slept in that
night. Startled at this, she quickly rejoined
her companion and acquainted her with the
discovery. After consulting together, they
determined to call their master at once, as it
was plainly evident that something extraordi-
nary had taking place during their absence.
They had no love for their mistress, who&e
bearing was proud and haughty in the extreme
towards them, and her mysterious absence from
home, without the knowledge of her father,
gave them good grounds for strange suspicions
and conjectures. Besides, what motive could
she have in giving them a holiday yesterday
unasked ; why, none whatever, but to get them
out of the way while she carried out some of
her deep laid schemes. Yes, they would awake
their master at once, tell him all they knew
about Miss Clara, and place him on his guard
against possible contingencies.
With this resolution, and whispering their
suspicions in a low voice, they proceeded
together to that part of the house where their
master's bedroom was situated. Singular to say,
this room was also untenanted ; and the bed had
not been used during the night. Now,
thoroughly alarmed, and staggered to accouat
for this new disappearance, they raised their
voices aloud, and called repeatedly to their
master and mistress by name; but no response
of any kind was returned to their cries, save the
singing of the various birds below, or the faint
echo of their own voices by the mimicking
parrot. Terrified beyond measure, they now
hastened out of the house, and began searching
the garden and orchard in the vain hope of
finding their master there. They went from
end to end of the grounds, visiting all the places
that he was known to frequent ; they searched
the outhouses, dog kennels, every part of the
premises, but no sign whatever of either master,
mistress, or the Orang-outang.
64
By this time two solutions to the mystery
seemed to occur to their minds: the one was
that Miss Clara had eloped with her lover, and
that the old merchant discovering it had set olf
in hot pursuit after them; the other that
the place had been entered by burglars, and,
with the object of removing any possibility of
detection, both parent and child were brutally
murdered. The absence of their remains did
not throw any doubt on this latter tlieory ; for
what could be easier than to carry their dead
bodies to the Mersey and throw them in.
No time was now to be lost in acquainting the
authorities with the circumstances, and with
this object a messenger was dispatched to the
Exchange bridewell, then only recently opened,
and the proper place to go to in case of emergency.
There were very few constables, as they were
then called, distributed throughout Liverpool,
-and they had no fixed beats or localities where
thjre was a certainty of tinding them. Hov.-
ever, the messenger in this case was more
fortunate, and soon returned to Elm Tree House
with two gentlemen, similarly dressed to the
present doorkeepers at the Town Hall, with the
sdlitary exception that they wore knee breeches.
Soon after their arrival a thorough search was
made of the place, and one of the theories was
quickly set at rest. No burglars or thieves had
entered the house, as nothing of value was
missing, and the safe or strong box had not been
tampered with. On the other hand, in search-
ing the- daughter's rooms, a small reticule,
apparently forgotten in her hurried flight, was
found, and this contained several papers, amongst
which was a letter that seemed to point to a
possible encounter which might or might not
have culminated in the commission of a great
crime. The substance of this letter was as
follows : —
J'y Dearest Clara,— Forgive me for what I am
abouf, to write, but you can readily understand,
ii-om what I have told you of my sufferings, that I
cannot feel otherwise thnn deeply incensed at the
conduct of your father. P'oi- heaven's sake take all
precautions against a meeting between us ; should
65
we meet face to face, with the present feelings that
inspire our breasts, the result would be
something terrible. It seems unnatural that she
whom I love and worship to distraction should stand
in the relationship she does to the man who has done
me such incalculable injury. I will not now repeat
all that I have suffered at his hands,— his unflagging
malignity that pursued me from place to place, that
invented and suggested certain cliarges against me,
thereby preventmg me from holding any situation
suitable to my abilities in this town. And what
have I done to incur all this haired and bitter-
ness? Ah ! dearest, you know the answer as well as
I. What business had I to love the dearest, sweetest,
girl in the universe, — why was I born poor ana
humble, a simple clerk, dependent on his favour and
liberality? But thank heaven all this is changed now.
AS you are aware, I liad to leave England through his
persecution and seek my fortune in the West
Indies. Fortune has smiled upon me there, and I am
now a rich man. Now, I can keep you in a manner
suitable to your station, and take you from under his
root by a stronger authority than ever he possessed.
He can pitcli all his hoarded wealth into the Mersey, or
bequeath it to his born companion, the Orang-outang,
for all that we may care. But 1 will not write any
more on this subject; it always upsets me. Be
careful to carry out everythins^ as suggested, and
miss no opportunity to guard against a rencontre
between us. I will call at the appointed hour to-
morrow night, and until then farewell, my own
dearest wife. ALFRED.
This letter clearly indicated the bad feeling
than existed between Alfred Harding and the
old merchant, and the constables were at once
led to suspect that the dreaded meeting had
really taken place between them. Plausible,
however, as this might appear, there were no
traces of anything in the house or grounds that
went to support it. At length, after a fruitless
search of seven days, the house and gardens
were locked up, a'ul a guard placed over them
until such times as the mystery was solved.
In the meantime energetic steps were taken to
find out the whereabouts of Alfred Harding and
his wife. Our detective organization was only
in a nascent condition at this period, and when
criminals got a few hours' start, or made their
escape from the town, the chances were a
hundred to one that they would never be
66
captured. However, while the authorities were
vigorously prosecuting their search for the
delinquents, the unravelment of the whole
mystery was suddenly brought about by the
following simple incident. As one of Abel Wall-
worth's servants was passing along the streets,
she happened to notice a number of juveniles
playing at soldiers, the leader of the band being
a sturdy little fellow, with Rajah's Mephisto-
phelean hat and feather adornirg his head. On
the youth being questioned as to how he came
by the hat, he first stated that he found it on
the bank of the river at a spot near to which
Mr. Wallworth usually went to give the Orang-
outang his bath. Being further pressed, be
also admitted that he saw a black man and a
sailor struggling in the water, and that after
some time they both sank, and he'saw no more
of them. He then possessed himself of the
clothes, thinking he did no wrong as both of the
owners were drowned. In addition to this story
the servants gave evidence of their master's
usual habits — his liability to fainting fits latterly
and his customary practice of washing the Orang-
outang in the river, so that to all reasonable
minds the strange and sudden disappearance of
Abel Wallworth was satisfactorily accounted for.
This was further confirmed by the unexpected
return of Alfred Harding and his wife, who,
learning through the "Hue and Cry" the
melancholy fate of their relative, speedily posted
back to the town and put themselves at once in
communication with the authorities.
There can be no doubt that the old merchant
was seized with a fainting fit whilst bathing his
pet quadrumane, and, being securely fastei:edto
each other by a strong chain, the result can be
easily imagined. For some months afterwards
the talk of the "good old town " reverted to the
occurrence, and then, like many extraordinai}^
things, it was relegated to the category of the
fast receding incidents of the past. The wealth
he left behind him was inherited by his
daughter, and she and her husband soon after-
wards quitted Liverpool with the intention never
to return to the "good old town" again.
SILVESTER'S TRUST.
CHAPTER I.
Silvester Gerrarcl, an accomplished young
Liverpool clerk, was appointed to a position of
great trust in the house of Browning, Brown-
ing & Co., Kingston, Jamaica. Ralph Browning,
the head of the firm, had known his father when
they were schoolfellows together, and on this
account he took a great liking to the young man,
let him have apartments in his own house at
Kingston, and encouraged a warm friendship
between him and his only son Roger, who was
then about eighteen years of age. Silvester
was elated at his good fortune in getting such
an appointment, and the prospects it held out of
speedy advancement. He exerted himself to
justify the partiality of his master, and to deserve
the confidence so generously reposed in him.
He was a tall, well made young man of con-
siderable physical strength and activity, with a
disposition at once open, frank, and generous.
He possessed in a striking degree those qualities
of heart and mind that endeared him to his
associates, and were prolific in the establish-
ment of warm and lasting friendships. His
master had little occasion to promote an
affectionate understanding between the two
young men ; for shortly after they had become
acquainted, the irresistible influence of the
young clerk's character began to assert itself,
and their intimacy soon ripened into a constant
and inseparable companionship.
Silvester had the misfortune to lose both
his parents. His mother died while he was yet
a child, and his father, who was a clergyman
with a poor living, had little to give him but a
good education.
68
Roger Browning, his master's only son, was
the one solitary companion he had in the strange
and foreign town which he was destined to
consider, for the time being, his home. This
young man was possessed of many estimable
qualities, but he was constitutionally delicate
and of a retiring disposition. He was also
somewhat eccentric and strange in his manner,
but this no doubt originated from his sedentary
habits, and an absence of proper physical exercise
and outdoor life. He was a spare, sallow young
man about the medium height, with sharp,
regular features, and black hair and eyes. He had
been exclusively reared in Jamaica, and, up to the
time we are referring to, he had never visited
the native land of his parents. No expense,
however, had been spared in giving him a good
education, such as could be acquired from a
master brought over specially from England
for that purpose. He displayed great aptitude
for learning ; so much so, that he devoted more
time and attention to books than was altogether
pleasing to his father, who had destined him for
commercial pursuits. Both his father and
mother absolutely idolised him; they thought
there was no one in the world to compare with
him ; and they accordingly congratulated them-
selves in having such a worthy young man in
Silvester to take him under his special charge,
and act the role of friend and protector.
Before the latter'a arrival at Kingston, they could
not bear to let him out of their sight, but shortly
afterwards, so great was their confidence in the
good sense and discretion of the new clerk, he
was allowed to take short trips over Jamaica
and oftentimes a sail to the neighbouring
islands, when the exigences of business per-
mitted Silvester to accompany him.
Two years had passed away since the young
clerk first entered upon his duties, and his
strict attention to business in all its details —
superintending the routine of the coxmting-house,
keeping correct estimates of the stock and
outputs in the sugar mills and distilleries —
made him an almost indispensable servant in
the flourishing concern of Browning, Browning
69
and Co. One afternoon, in the early part of
April 181-4, he was summoned to his master's
sanctum in the counting-house, where he found
that good gentleman in the very best of spirits,
and highly elated at the profitable returns of a
large shipment of sugar and rum, which he had
lately exported to Liverpool. " Take a seat,
Mr. Gerrard," said his master, blandly, " and let
us have a short conversation together. I want
your opinion on a matter which Roger and
myself have been talking over this morning.
My son proposes that we should open a branch
house in Liverpool; and, as both he and his
mother think that a residence in England would
be beneficial to his health, he is prepared to
take the management of a house of this de-
scription, and reside permanently in England for
some time. He is now about twenty years of
age, and should be taking steps to acquire a full
knowledge of our business ; but, as you are
doubtless aware, he has seen vary little of active
life, and is sadly deleient in everything that
constitutes a mnn of the world. The idea,
therefore is, that he should travel for some
months through England, visiting all the chief
export towns and business centres, and making
himself acquainted with the customs and
usages of trade, before he finally settles down
to the duties I have mentioned. Now, as your
holidays commence forthwith, and as Mrs.
Browning and myself are desirous that you
should accompany him on the trip, I thought I
would first talk the matter over with you, and
get your consent to our plans before I
ultimately decide to give adherence to the
proposal. We are doing a large and profitable
business as you know, and I see no reason to
extend the limits of the concern, except so far as
it will be suitable to my son and beneficial to his
interests." *' Well, to be candid with you,
sir," said Silvester, " the proposal which you
mention has been the subject of conversation
between Mr. Roger and myself for some time.
In fact, I think the idea was first suggested by
me, so that as far as my opinion is concerned
that is already determined. With regard
70
however, to my accompanying him in his travels
that is an entirely new matter, and has never
been mentioned between us, but of course, if
Mrs. Browning and yourself should detire it, I
shall be only too glad to take the place of his
companion and friend during the journey."
'* Then I may consider it as so far settled,'^
said Ralph Browning. " Well, I am rather
pleased than otherwise that it should be so;
I was impressed with the idea of his visiting
England when it was first mooted ; and, as there
is little society here, save a few of our own
station and the planters scattered over the
island, it is only right and proper that he should
mix for sometime in European life, and acquire
a knowledge of the ways and habits of the
business community there, before assuming the
position which he is destined to occupy in his
large firm. Of course his mother and myself
will feel very lonely and anxious during his
absence, but we have great confidence
and faith in you, and willingly commit him to
your charge in this undertaking, perfectly
satisfied that our trust shall not be misplaced. "
"Indeed, sir, you overwhelm me with your
good opinion," said Silvester with sensible
emotion. " Since I first entered your service
the generous hopes you invariably expressed in
my behalf have been the sole aim and ambition
of my life to fulfil, and whatever may be good
or meritorious on my part is entirely due to the
fatherly care you extended to me. I can
only promise that the fixed principle of
my life shall be to maintain your good
opinion unaltered, and whoever or whatever you
commit to my charge shall be guarded and
protected at the sacrifice of my own life."
"I fully believe what you saj', Mr. Gerrard,
and both Mrs. Browning and my son are of the
same opinion. But, still you are only a young
man, and the temptations and pitfalls that beset
the steps of the young are frequently disastrous
to the best intentioned. Let me see, what is
your age now, Mr. Gerrard ?"
" I was twenty-six last February, sir."
•' Well, judging from your good sense and
71
methodical habits I should have thought you
much older, but there again, your appearance
does not warrant such an assumption. How-
ever, what I was going to say is this, fore-wurned
is fore-armed, and if you follow my advice in
this undertaking, the chances are a hundred to
one that all our best wishes will be satisfactorily
borne out. Now, in the first place, you and
Roger must have a definite object in view dui*-
ing your travels, that is to acquire knowledge,
experience, and insight into all the useful pur-
suits of your fellowmen. You must confine
youx-self as much as possible to the centres of
industry and commercial life, and avoid with a
wholesome dread all places where excessive
living,debauchery,or other temptations are likely
to be encountered. ]Make acquaintances only
among those engaged in business, and give all
idlers, spendthrifts, and pleasure seekers a wide
berth. I don't want you to deprive yourself of
all amusements^ you can visit the theatres, opera
houses and such like places of entertainment
when you think fit, but horseracing, gambling,
drinking, and all that sort of thing I strictly
and emphatically forbid. The continent of
Europe is now in such an unsettled state
that I would much rather you did not go
there, althought I have several correspondents
in Paris and other cities who would have been
of great service to you. I will give you letters
of introduction to several of the houses I have
done business with, and they, no doubt, will be
able to render you some assistance towards
carrying out the object of your visit."
Some weeks after this interview everything
was got in readiness for the contemplated visit
to England, and the two young men sailed from
Kingston with the best wishes of all their friends,
and quite a demonstration of farewell from the
mercantile coramtniity there. Previous, how-
ever, to going on board, Silvester had a final
interview with Mrs. Browning, in which that
good lady charged him with all manner of
precautions, warnings, and responsibilities re-
garding her darling son. She pictured in vivid
colours the terrible consequences that would
72
result to Mr. Browning and herself if anything
serious happened to him while under the care
and guidance of Silvester. So onerous seemed
the duties attached to his position that any
pleasure he anticipated from the trip was in a
great measure overcast by the anxious fears
and apprehensions of the parents.
It is not the purpose of this story to describe
the incidents of their voyage or travels through
England. We mustjtherefore pass over an interval
of twelve months, and come to the time of their
arrival in Liverpool, which was the month of
March, in the year 1815. The change that had
taken place in the appearance oi the two young
men was strangely at variance with what we
would be led to suppose from a knowledge of
their previous characters. Sylvester had grown
pale, emaciated, and sad, with a careworn and
wistful look in his eyes that bespoke nights of
anxious thought, and a heart ill at ease and
troubled. On the other hand Roger had become
stout and florid, with a free and easy manner, a
bold and independent bearing, and a grim joke
or hearty laugh for everything that afforded
him the opportunity. Their dress also was not
the least prominent feature in this difference;
for, while the former plainly but respectably
attired, the other had assumed all the prevailing
fashion of the period, and was in the vulgar
sense of the word a buck of the first water. Their
friendship, however, had apparently undergone
no diminution, but its effects relatively con-
sidered was entirely reversed, for Roger now was
the leading and commanding spirit, and his
companion nothing more than a docile and obe-
dient follower.
Their chambers in Water-street, the recognised
locale of the branch house of Browning, Brown-
ing and Co., was f requentlj?- visited by the fashion-
able young men of all grades, who would in-
duce Roger to neglect his duties and accompany
them to several plact^s of resort, where gambling,
drinking, and every description of fast living was
indulged in. All this was carried on despite the
protests and remonstrances of Silvester, who,
anxious to make up for the absence of the other
73
was the more assiduous and unremitting in his
eflforts not to allow the business to suffer in con-
sequence. But this was not the worst feature
of Roger's conduct, he was continually stopping
out late at night, frequenting houses of notorious
gambling and card-playing repute, and habitually
returning to his apartments considerably the
worse for drink. No one could be more pained
and dejected at these depraved and dangerous
habits than the boon companion who had known
him as a quiet, simple, and delicate young man
in his native town of Kingston. The change
seemed so rapid and unexpected that, before his
companion could use influence or advice, the
foundation of his tastes was established, and all
his most vicious passions roused into action.
His experience of life in English cities was
something like anew revelation to him; and,
like all young men of peculiar or isolated minds,
there was a recklessness iu his conduct that those
of a better mental balance would have chastened
into moderation and restraint.
One day, while Silvester was going to dine at
the King's Arms, an hotel at the top of Water-
street, he happened to meet Roger in an advanced
state of inebriety, accompanied by two strange
and flash-looking men, wlio were assisting him
on his way towards the office. Without being
recognised, he turned quickly round and followed
them closely to the office, taking particular
notice of the two men, and listening to their
maudlin and fragmentary conversation. As
far as he could glean from what passed between
them, they appeared to have been spending the
morning in some gambhng house in town, and
were endeavouring to arrange for another meet-
ing on the evening of the following day. Oue of
the men particularly struck him as belonging
to a class seldom seen in the company of his
young friend. He was a heavy, square-shoulderer',
rough-looking fellow, with coarse, unprepossess-
ing features, and an expression of face that in-
spired fear and repulsion. He had a strange,
grating voice, with an impediment in his speech,
and when excited by anger or drink he seemed
to be incapable of making himself intelligible.
74
He was also maimed in one of his arms, and ,
in his endeavours to support Roger on his way,
the sleeve of the coat was accidentally drawn
back, and a wooden substitute exposed, with a
hook affixed to the end, and strongly clamped
round with iron bands. The other stranger was
one of those persons of doubtful position, whose
airs and assumption might have deceived the
most wary. He was dressed in the height of
fashion, and made a great display of jewellery
and ornaments.
Silvester was greatly shocked at seeing his
master's son in such a condition, and at such an
early hour of the day, and although he would
havo greatly wished to screen him from the
clerks in the office, still he felt so excited and
exasperated at the moment that he was afraid
to interfere, lest it might lead to a rupture
between them, and thereby peril the slight in-
fluence he still possessed over him. However,
one thing he was determined on, and that was
he would make one last urgent appeal to Roger's
good sense, and, if he did not succeed in his
efforts, he would then release himself from his
unenviable position, by acquainting his parents
at once with the whole truth regarding the con-
duct of their son.
Next morning, before going to the office, he
had an interview with Roger in his bedroom,
where that young gentleman lay prostrate from
the excesses of the previous day, and in anything
but a pleasant and agreeable frame of mind.
When Silvester entered the room his appearance
was at once noticed by the other; there was a
death-like pallor in his face, and an expression
of sad, yet serious, thought in his eyes. He had
not slept during the night, and the resolution he
had finally come to cost him many an hour of
intense anxiety and bitter reflection.
" Holloa, Sil., What has happened ? Are you
on the sick list, too ? " said Roger, looking at him
somewhat concerned.
Silvester did not answer just then, but draw-
ing a chair over to the bedside, he sat himself
down wearily, and buried his face in his hands.
The other sat up in bed unfeignedly startled
75
and glanced with a look of alarm at the stooping
form of his companion.
" For heaven's sake, Gerrard, don't keep mo in
suspense. If you are seriously ill tell me of it
at once. You know the state of my nerves at
this moment ; any excitement or suspense
would certainly drive me mad."
"lam going to write to your father by the
next mail," said Silvester, sitting erect in the
chair, and speaking in a very grave tone of
voice, " and, before I do so, I should lijje to
make a last appeal to you regarding the terrible
mode of life you are now pursuing."
" Oh ! that is the matter, is it. Ecod, I
thought you were striken with a fever, or that
Browning, Browning & Co. had stopped pay-
ment, or worse still, that the island of Jamaica
had been swallowed up by another of those
infernal earthquakes. Well, let us be thankful
that nothing more serious is going to happen,"
" I should much rather you did not talk in
that light and glaring way, Roger. If you
knew what I have endured for sometime you
would at least treat me with some mark of
respect."
" Well, well, I know what you are going to
say. I certainly have been going it a little too
fast lately, but why in the name of heaven select
a morning like this for a lecture. My nerves
are in that condition that the very idea of
serious talk almost brings on a fit of the blues."
" But I must write to your father to-day to
catch the mad, and reply to all the inquiries he
has made concerning you."
" Then write by all means; tell him I am as
well as can be expected, and convey a large
measure of my love to himself and mother. I
will drop them a line myself in a week or two."
" You are perfectly aware that I am forced to
tell him the life you are now leading, or write a
direct falsehood to all his queries. 1 am deter-
mined to practice no more deception, Roger. I
will make a clean breast of it, and relieve my-
self of the whole responsibility. I have been
weak and vacillaiing too long."
At this, Roger bridled up at once, and his
76
dark, mulatto-like face became convulsed with
anger. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he inquired
with haughty irritation. " What do you mean
to imply by those words ? "
" You know the instructions your father gave
me when leaving Kingston," replied Silvester,
undisturbed by his sudden anger.
" My father had no right to give you authority
over me, and you, hs an honourable man, had
no right to undertake such a position without
first acquainting me. I thought you accom-
panied me as a friend and associate, not as a
spy and detective. Believe me the oflBce of
breeding contention between father and son is
both thankless and unprofitable."
" I have not deserved this of you, Roger," said
the other, palpablj' hurt, " but no matter, I mvist
learn to bear it all. I have now only one duty
to perform, and after that I will arrange my
accounts at the office, and send in my resigna-
tion to your father. Still as a friend — an almost
brother I might say — I will make a last and
final appeal to you. Give me the slightest
promise — the faintest hope, that you intend
reforming your ways, and then 1 shall feel
perfectly satisfied that what already has
occurred will be repaired in good time. I have
implicit faith in your word, and that is all I
require. If you once promise to amend — I
know your character too well — nothing shall
deter you from redeeming your word. "
" Thank you for the compliment, " said Roger,
still evidently annoyed. " I do not feel disposed
to give any pledge of the kind Mr. Gerrard. I
am master of my own actions, and will not be
accountable to any one in the world for the
same."
" Then I have nothing further to say,"
remarked the other, rising up from his seat
and moving towards the door. " I have prayed
and hoped that this hour would never come,
but, let the result be what it may, I shall do
my duty, even at the eleventh hour."
When the room door had closed after him.Roger
Browning threw himself on his back in bed,
and gave vent to a torrent of bitter and eon-
77
temptuous invectives against the impertinent
assumption of his old companion. After a time
however, a calmer frame of mind returned to
him, and he buoyed himself up with the reflec-
tion that Silvester would not dare to acquaint
his parents of his late conduct. By doing so he
would make himself an avowed and declared
enemy of his. It would be most unfortunate at
that time if he were fool enough to carry
out his threats, but then again he had often
hinted at writing to his father before, and
nothing after all had come of it.
" I must win back the money I drew from
Jackson and Horsefall on account of the sales of
the last three cargoes," said he, aloud to himself.
" Then it will be time enough to talk about
reforming and turning over a new leaf. By the
bye, and there's that five hundred I took from
the office a few days back, egad, I must drop
Silvester a line about it, and save another
scene. I shall put all things right in time, if time
is only given me. I musn't forget to pull
myself together for to-night's work. Kirby has
won a ten thousand prize in the state lottery,
and I mean to have a shy at it. I must have a
doctor here at once to get rid of this nausea
and headache, and then I will put a new aspect on
aflfairs."
Here he rang the bell violently for an
attendant, and despatched a messenger at once
for a medical man.
CHAPTER II.
Professor Gunstone, teacher of music, calis-
thenics, and dancing, departed this life two
years previous to the opening of the story, leav-
ing a small annuity to his only child, Marion,
who was a young lady of remarkable beauty, but,
unfortunately, afflicted with frail and delicate
health. Although skilled in the accomplish-
ments her father had taught, and capable, to
some extent, of taking his place, her health was
78
too precarious and uncertain to carry on the
duties continuously, so she contented herself by
giving music lessons to a privileged few aristo-
cratic patrons. Otherwise she lived a life of quiet
seclusion and retirement.
She was a young lady about the medium
height, with a spare, fragile, though shapely
figure ; a face singularly attractive and beauti-
ful, and a profusion of jet black hair — which she
wore in the simplest fashion — drawn low over the
temples at each side, and secured by a comb at
the back of the head. Her eyes were unusually
large and dark, of great brilliancy, with a marvel-
lous power of expressing every shade of thought
ai^d feeling. Her mental gifts were evidently of
a high order ; the refined society she was reared
amongst, together with the careful moral and
religious instruction she received from her parents
made her one of the most amiable and accom-
plished young ladies who resided at the time in the
populous and fiourishing seaport of Liverpool.
While yet a girl of thirteen or fourteen, Sil-
vester happened to attend her father's classes
for music, and as the natural result of her
beauty and his disposition, a sort of mutual
respect and intimacy spi-ang up between them.
This intimacy, however, as years proceeded,
gradually ripened into the deeper feeling of
love and attachment, which was fully recognised
and api^roved of by her father. When the time
arrived for the professor to quit the scenes of
this mortal life, the two young people
were summoned to his bedside, and, after
exhorting and advising them about the duties
of their future lives, he committed his darling
child to the protection of Silvester, adjuring
him to take the place which he was called to
vacate — to guard, cherish, and love her as the
most precious treasure that could be transferred
from the possession of one man to that of another.
It appeared almost needless — even to the dying
man himself — to doubt or question Silvester's
willingness in this matter ; for the young man
loved the sweet Marion Gunstone with a pure and
manly love that time or circumstance could not
alter.
79
Shortly after the old man's death, it was
arranged between the two lovers that they should
postpone entering the married state until such
time as Silvester made himself a satisfactory
and permanent position in life, Marion had a
small competency to live on ; and he, with all
the fervour and hopefulness of dawning man-
hood, had every confidence in carving out a
high and secure pathway for himself. For
sometime, however, his most sanguine hopes
were disappointed. He got a clerkship in one
of the mercantile houses in the town, but the
duties and salary attached held out no prospect
of the early consummation of his wishes. For-
tune at length seemed to smile upon him,
and the Kingston appointment came to pass.
It need scarcely be said that there was great joy
and happiness in the hearts of the lovers when
this appointment was ultimately ratified.
Marion, of course, experienced sorrow and
depression at the idea of their temporary
separation, but then it would only be for a few
years, and the glowing prospects and large
emoluments offered Silvester reconciled her to
her loss.
Two years had passed away from the day of his
departure to the time when he returned again to
Liverpool, as the friend and companion of Roger
Browning. During this period a great change
had taken place in the appearance of his beauti-
ful fiancee. She had grown thinner and paler
than before, and if anything more beautiful
and spirituelle. No doubt his long absence, her
lonely and retired life, and the delicate and cap-
ricious nature of her health were the cause of this.
She had ceased giving music lessons to her pupils,
and seemed desirous of withdrawing herself
altogether from the companionship of her few
remaining friends and associates. She would
sit for hours in her room, absorbed in a trance-
like reverie, her large eyes gleaming with a
supernatural brilliancy, and a smile of singular
happiness irradiating her face; then a sudden
shadow would pass across her brow and she
would give way to uncontrollable grief and tears,
which would continue for some time. At other
80
times she would seat herself before the piano,
and make the house resound with the most
touching and pathetic airs; at times accompany-
ing them with her low, plaintive voice, until the
emotion? she felt choked her utterance, and the
excess of her feelings paralyzed her hands.
Notwithstanding Silvester's return, this strange
conduct was to some extent still continued, but
when in his company nothing could exceed her
joy and happiness, and it was only when he took
his departure, or was longer than usual without
visiting her that her sad and melancholy fits
returned.
On the afternoon following the interview
between Silvester and Roger Browoing, Marion,
as usual, was absorbed in one of those trance-
like moods, gazing abstractedly through
the parlour window. All at once the figure of
her lover rassed the window, and mounting the
steps leading to the entrance knocked with a
loud and hasty summons at the door.
With an agility scarcely in keeping with the
state of her health, she darted at once from the
room, and immediately opened the door for him.
When he entered he looked strangely pale and
agitated, and throwing himself despondingly
into a seat he leaned forward with a heavy sigh,
without apparently taking any notice of his
wondering companion. At length the tears
welled up into her eyes, and going towards where
he sat, she knelt down by his side and inquired
anxiously the cause of his strange demeanour.
*' Oh, dearest Marion, I'm a ruined man," said
he, in a heartbroken voice, "something terrible
has happened at the office, and I will be held
responsible for it all. Give me a drink of
something to slake my parched throat, and then
I will explain all to you."
His request was immediately complied with,
and then he related all that had occurred between
Roger and himself, and also his discovery that
morning at the office, that large sums of money
had been clandestinely appropriated by his
master's son. Up to this he had never told
Marion of the irregular conduct of Roger,
though she frequently questioned him about the
81
care and anxiety that was apparent in his face.
He was reticent about all things that were likely
to injure others, and seldom told his gentle
companion anything about business but what
was hopeful and pleasing. When the full truth
was told her she felt great indignation against
Roger, and her sympathy and admiration for her
lover increased in an inverse ratio. She was
grieved to think that any blame could be
attached to him in this serious business, but in
her inmost heart she felt sincerely pleased at
this new illustration of the nobility of his
character.
When the subject had been thoroughly
discussed and deplored between them, Silvester
told Marion the likely outcome of it all, and the
course of conduct he had resolved upon pursuing
under the circumstances.
"Things have assumed such a serious aspect,"
said he, " that it wUl be utterly impossible to
sufficiently explain my conduct in the matter
by means of a letter. I have, therefore, deter-
mined to start by the first ship to Kingston, and
have a personal interview with my employer.
I will fuUy confess my own weakness and dere-
liction of duty, and then resign the appointment
he was so kind as to give me and the trust 1 have
so signally failed to fulfil."
A strange shadow passed over the face of
Marion as he uttered this, and a look of fear
and disquiet came into her sad eyes. She be-
came deadly pale in a moment, and then turning
aside, she buried her face in her hands,and com-
menced to weep bitterly.
Her lover approached, and attempted to sooth
the natural grief which she felt at his intended
departu7-e.
" I will not remain a day in Kingston after I
have seen Mr. Browning, but will return by the
next ship sailing for England, and then we shall
never more be separated again. You wiU not
increase my misery by giving way thus. After
what occurred, I should not feel satisfied with
myself nor again raise my head amongst honest
men if I neglected my duty."'
Marion brushed her tears away, and with a
82
sudden impulse seemed to suppress the grief
that overwhelmed her. She raised her pale
anxious face to his, and with a resigned though
heart -broken expression in her eyes, she said,
" Forgive me, dearest Sil., I would not for the
world increase your troubles at the present
moment, but I am so lonely and forsaken here
now, that I shall feel your absence very much,
however short it may be."
" It will only be six or seven months at the
furthest, sweetheart," said he.
She gave a deep sigh, and again the bitter
tears came into her eyes.
*' Sis or seven months, love, may mean for
ever," said she in a low and meaning tone of
voice.
" Tut, tut, Marion, you take too desperate a
view altogether. Why I have been two years
away already, and you bore up wonderfully
during my absence. I felt grateful and proud
at the firmness you displayed at our first parting.
Why not summon that courage which lies latent
in my little lady's breast, and be your old self
again."
" Ah, love, a great change has come over me
since then, but for your sake I will endeavour to
keep up."
" When I return from this journey," said he,
" I will not leave the old town again. I will get
a situation here, and, with what money I have
already saved, we can manage to live comfortably
and happily in the future."
They were standing before the window, his
arms fondly embracing her, and his eyes tracing
the exquisite outlines of the charming face
partially upturned to his. She did not, however,
appear to notice the last words he uttered, but,
slightly turning her head,she gazed abstractedly
through the window, over the flower pots and
gardens, the adjacent fields and scattered houses
that intevened between the house and the river,
where numerous ships could be seen lying at
anchor.
At length she said, keeping her eyes still fixed
in the distance,
"And when do you purpose starting, dear .P "
83
"At once, Maiiou ; I must leave by the Royal
mail coach for London to-night, so as to catch
the first ship sailing. The sooner I get away, the
sooner I will return."
"Thienthis is to be our last meeting!" said
she, suddenly starting from her passive
attitude.
"No, not our last meeting I hope, but the
last for a few months until I am back to you for
good."
"Oh! could you not remain a few days
longer? Wait for the next ship, SjI," and she
clung to him as though she would fain force
him to remain. "It is all so sudden and
unexpected, besides I bad something to tell
you — I mean I cannot bear to part with you
without a little time to prepare myself."
"You will see the urgency of my case, dear.
I must reach Kingston by the first vessel
leaving England, so as to prevent further money
losses, and inform Mr. Browning of all that has
occurred. A week or two's delay would prob-
ably lead to unpleasant business exposures,
which would be ruinous to Mr. Roger and
seriously embarrassing to Mr. Browning himself.
Come, dear, be reasonable, show me a little
of that fortitude that I have so often admired."
She then threw her arms suddenly around his
neck, and drawing his face towards her,
implanted a long and passsiouate kiss on hia
lips ; then her strength seemed to forsake her,
and she would have fallen to the ground had
not Silvester quickly seized her, and supported
her gently to the sofa. Placing her on the couch,
he sat himself down beside her, and used all his
endeavours to allay her grief, and encourage a
more hopeful and resigned frame of mind.
"See, dearest," said he at length, "here is a
little present which I had almost forgotten in
our mutual trouble."
He took a little golden locket from his
pocket, and opening it displayed two prettily
finished silhouettes, one representing himself
and the other Marion. He kissed the likeness,
which occupied one side of the locket, and then
handed the present to her.
84
She received it with unfeigned joy and
delight, and glanced at her lover with a look of
inexpressible gratitude and tenderness,
"I shall keep it ever before my eyes," said
she pathetically, "and when I am buried in the
grave it will be placed over my heart."
" What strange and melancholy thoughts,
Marion. I hope we shall spend many happy
years together before such an event takes place.
Heaven forbid that anything should happen
to you while I am away, for the knowledge of
your grief and loneliness even now makes me the
most miserable and unhappy of men."
Again she threw her arms around his neck
with sudden impressement, and implanted an-
other long and passionate kiss on his lips, as
though she would draw his very soul forth in the
rapturous embrace.
The excitement of the effort, however, seemed
to completely overcome her this time, and, when
she withdrew her lips from his, she swooned
away in his arms, and lay as still and lifeless on
the couch as though her sweet spirit had sud-
denly taken flight.
Alarmed and frightened he instantly sum-
moned Mrs. Aitkin, an elderly lady who acted
in the twofold capacity of housekeeper and com-
panion to her. This lady was an old and valued
friend of her parents, and had known Marion
since she was a baby in long clothes.
" Poor, dear child," said she, on entering the
room, " another of those fainting fits. She
excites herself too much latterly, Mr. Gerrard,
I wish you would advise her not to worrit her-
self so ; it will seriously interfere with her already
delicate health. Whatever you advise her she
is certain to do."
"I am compelled to leave to-night for
Jamaica," said he, " and the suddenness of the
inteUigence has no doubt been the cause of all
this. Will there be any occasion to go for a
doctor, Mrs, Aitkin ? She looks the very pic-
ture of death."
" Oh dear no, sir, I shall bring her round
shortly."
Silvester stood for some time watching the old
85
lady administer restoratives, and otherwise exert
herseif to revive consciousness. He felt sorely
perplexed and sad at the new trouble that con-
fronted him, but the importance of his journey
was too pressing to postpone it, even at the
request of his sweetheart. Nothing but her
seriousillness would justify him in abandoning the
resolution he had formed. She was constitu-
tionally frail and delicate, and her present
appearance did not warrant any suspicion as
to her general health. After a little time she
would become reconciled to his absence, and learn
to look more reasonably at the circumstances
that enforced it.
At this moment the young lady gave a deep
sigh, and indications of returning consciousness.
*' If you have bidden her farewell, Mr.
Gerrard," said the old lady, " it would be just
as well not to let her see you again ; it would
only renew the excitement. I will sooth and
comfort her when her senses return, and she will
soon be all right again."
" Oh, Mrs. Aitkin," said he with considerable
emotion, " be kind and gentle to her during my
absence, act the part of a mother as you have
always done, and I shall never forget it. If
she should become seriously unwell or hysterical,
send at once for me and I will return imme-
diately. The Royal mail coach does not leave
before nine o'clock, so if I do not hear from
you by that time I shall consider all is right and
set out upon my journey. Tell Marion I will write
a letter from London before I take ship."
He then approached the sofa with sad and
tearful eyes, and impressed a last affectionate
kiss on the lips of his unconscious love. Without
venturing to look at her again, he quickly seized
his hat, and waving a farewell to Mrs. Aitkin
hurried precipitately from the house.
He had not long gone before the patient
opened her eyes, and stared wonderingly about
the room. All at once the truth seemed to
return to her, and a look of intense pain and
anguish came into her eyes.
" Has he gone, Aitkins ?" inquired she, looking
wistfully at her companion.
86
" Yes, dear ; he has only just left you. It
was wise for him to do so, as another such leave-
taking would have thoroughly upstt you.
There's a dear good child, keep yourself calm
and resigned, he will soon be back again."
Marion glanced a strange incredulous look at
the housekeeper, and then shook her head
sadly.
"Did he leave any parting message— what
were his last words?"
" He kissed you aflectionately where you lay,
and told me to be kind and gentle to you during
his absence. He said he would write to you
from London."
" Poor, dear, noble-minded Silvester ! T shall
never see him again, Aitkins, never."
" Nonsense, my dear ; it is only folly talking
in that way. When you have had a little rest
and quiet you will think otherwise."
" Ah, you little know, you little know; it is
not a presentiment, but a truth that I utter."
" I do not like your talking in that way, Miss
Marion. It is not like your usual good sense
and wisdom."
" Well, perhaps it is not wise for me to say so ;
^ut leave me a little time, Aitkins, and I will
try and collect myself. Did he look sad when
he was going ?"
" Yes, he looked very upset and sorrowful, but
he fought it down like a sensible man when he
saw the folly of repining."
When the housekeeper retired, Marion opened
the little locket, and gazing affectionately at it
gave full vent to her sorrow in a flood of tears.
At length, when a calmer mood suiiervened, she
soliloquised to herself in a low, half-audible tone
of voice.
"It may be wrong what I have done, but I
had not the heart to augment Silvester's troubles
by revealing to him a new^and bitter sorrow. It
has been a great struggle to keep the secret from
him, especially at his sudden and unexpected
departure, but I pictured to myself that it might
have prevented him sailing to Kingston, and
thereby jeopardised his good name and honour
in the eyes of bis employer. But what good
87
would have resulted in telling him, even if it
were not so ? It would not have prolonged my
life, or lessened the deepening shadow that is
approaching fate-like hitherward : it would only
have occasioned him poignant and unavailing
sorrow. That I would fain postpone until the
last moment. Sorrow, pain, and misfortune arj
only intensified by anticipation ; better let the
blow fall suddenly and unexpectedly. I prayed
for resolution and strength to do what was right
and con.-iderate, and I feel confident Silvester
will not blame me for keeping back the secret.
I shall miss his sympathy and condolencu, but
I shall be prevented ftom witnessing his grief
and desolation.
"At my earnest request Doctor Crooke
informed me the causa of my recent weakness
and lassitude. I hive never been strong, but
I did not suspect that my condition was so
dangerous. I resolved to know the whole truth
from him— to have his honest opinion as to the
time allotted to me in this world. Seeing I
would not be deceiv^ed, he answered me candidly
and unreservedly : I might live two mouths
longer, but it was more than probable that a
month or six weeks was the full measure of my
sojourn here. The truth did not frighten or
dism ly me. AH the grief and concern t
experienced was on Silvester's account. It
would be hard, Oh, cruelly hard to part from
him, the only embodiment of my love and
affections, which I have never fully possessed.
Ah, that was the bitterest pang, the severest
torture of all. But I would bear all for his sake,
and by the reticence I have imposed on myself
further exemplify the depth and intensity of the
l')ve I bear him. '.Vhen I have suflicient
strength and composure 1 will write him my last
letter, explaining and justifying my conduct,
and this shall be given to him when he returns
to Liverpool, and then the whole truth shall be
kno^vn to him. What I have suffered and
endured to arrive at this resolution no one will
ever know except the good God who directs and
arranges everything to sonie wise end. I have
mplioit faith in the result hereafoer, that we
88
shall know a fuller and happier love in that land'
beyond, where the wicked cease from troubling,
and the weary are at rest."
She ceased speaking, and with a thoughtful
and resigned expression of face drew her chair
towards the window, and gazed out sadly at
the prospect before her. The evening was
growing apace, and the shadows of night were
closing around the distant objects, and shutting
out the gleaming river, with its warships and
merchantmen at rest, and its smaller craft with
white sails passing to and fro.
When the housekeeper re-entered the room
some hours later, she found her young mistress
in the same position. The place was now in
darkness, and an intense silence prevailed. She
almost uttered an involuntary shriek when she
gazed at the white face and motionless attitude of
her mistress, but a gentle touch reassured
the old lady of her mistake, Marion had fallen
into one of her customary reveries.
CHAPTER III.
About the year 1815 there was a certain house
in Earle-street, St. Pauls, where a great deal of
gambling, drinking, and duelling was carried on
without any interference whatever on the part of
the authorities. The place was known in the
parlance of the frequenters as Bowie's Bunk^
although the proprietor was a retired privateer
skipper, named Bancroft, and rented a tavern
adjoining, which was numerously patronised by
seafaring men of all nationalities. The interior
of Bowie's Bunk had been somewhat altered
from its original purpose as a dwelling-house,
and from the outside there was nothing in its
appearance to attract S23ecial notice, save that
the front door was seldom opened, and few
were to be seen entering or leaving it. Those
who desired ingress had to pass up an entry at
the side of the tavern, and get admission through
the back door by means of a key which was kept
89
by the proprietor. After passing through this
door, you entered a narrow corridor which led
into a large oblong room, elaborately furnished
in the best style of the period. There were a
number of small tables arranged at each side,
with lounges and easy chairs surrounding them,
there was also a costly carpet covering the floor,
and all the requisite accessories for a first-class
smoking and refreshment room of the time.
During the greater part of the day, and at nearly
all hours of the night a motley company of all
classes used to assemble here, captains without
ships, privateer skippers whose occupation had
gone, merchants, spendthrift sons, clerks who
made free with their masters' money, planters
who had come home to spend their fortune, and
others, who by plunder or good luck had amassed
considerable wettlth during the recent wars; in
fact, adventurers of all kinds bitten by the
mania of gambling, from the practised sharper,
who lived by his wits, to the infatuated votary
who risked his thousands in the cast of a die.
The sudden termination of the wars in which
England had been so long engaged let loose on
society a great number of desperate and un-
settled spirits, who had no particular trade or
occupation to turn to, and whose life of adven-
ture and excitement had wholly unfitted them
for tho useful industry and quiet ways more con-
sistent with the piping times of peace.
The apartment referred to was chiefly used
for drinking, talking, and lounging, but in the
rooms upstairs, the real business of the place
was carried on. Here there were several small
rooms exclusively set apart for gambling, and
to these the earnest votaries of the game of
chance adjourned betimes, to pocket their
winnings or receive the fiat of irretrievable losses
bringing ruin and disgrace.
One evening there was a fair sprinkling of the
usual company assembled in the chief room,
pleasantly engaged in quaffing their several
potations, smoking expensive Havana and
Virginian cigars, and talking and yarning away
with the air of people luxuriously disposed to
enjoy themselves. A few of the tables were
90
ornamented with chased and costly drinking
bowls and goblets, which belonged in most
cases to the drinkers, and were the spoil of
many a tough sea fight with Spanish galleons or
French merchantmen. There were also to be
suen diamond studded snufi" boxes, heavy gold
chains, costly medals and insignia of honour,
and watches of considerable value and size,
which the owners every now and then exposed
to view, as they recounted their numerous ex-
ploits and engagements in the stormy times that
had just been brought to an unexpected close.
At one of the tables, a little removed from the
rest of the company, there were seated two men,
whose conversation was carried on in whispers,
and whose manner and gestures betokened
earnestness and caution. One of these was
known by the name of Morgan Byrd, or the
Cuban Pirate, as he was familiarly nicknamed,
from the fact of his having been a pirate before
he received a letter of marque from tlie English
Government to prey upon the mercantile marine
of France; the other was called Sir Lionel
Kirby, but whether he was a baronet de facto
or simply got the title from his aristocratic airs
and bearing was never very clearly understood
by those who claimed his acquaintance.
Sufficient it was, that he answered to the title,
and there were none amongst his ordinary
associates who cared a brass farthing about his
social standing or the nature of his antecedents.
These two men as we have already seen, were
not unknown to Roger Browning, and they were
now waiting his promised arrival for the purpose
of trying their fortune at a game of cards, when
the stakes were to be high and the result more
momentous than usual.
"Look here. Sir Lionel," said Byrd, raising
his voice loud enough for others to hear him,
" I venture to predict that the ten thousand
prize you won in the State lottery will pass into
other hands to-night. You are alwa}'s so head-
strong when luck is against you, and that young
millionaire from Jamaica is such a keen player,
and not to be denied when there's a good stake
to be handled."
91
" Pooh ! it matters ver}' little to me," said the
other indiffereutly, and with a careless shrug of
the shoulder, " so long as one enjoys the excite-
ment of the game and the society of boon com-
panions. The result does not cost me a thought.
Whether 1 lose the whole or whether I quadruple
it gives me little concern. I have plenty to live
ou without it, and shall never allow either losses
or gains to interfere with my appetite or disturb
my rest."
" Ay, ay, mate," observed the skipper, " that
is the true spirit of your bon vivant. I have lost
many a hundred bright doubloons and pistoles,
and they never cost me a sigh when I was
from the table. What play we used to have
to be sure when cruising about the Caribbean
Sea on the lookout for a Spaniard or a
Dutchman ! Many was the round sum in
valuables and prizes that passed from hand to
hand until fortune at last inclined the scales,
and left one of us the winner. No, Sir Lionel,
not an angry word or a regretful murmur
from any one of us, however large the loss, or
persistent our ill-luck. The losers would often
remark with a grim smile, ' Wait till we fall in
with a foreign merchantman, and then we'll have
at you again and take our revenge. Ah ! those
were the good times worth living in, not a coin
in one's pocket of a morning, and when we
turned into our bunk at night, possessing wealth
enough to purchase an independency for the rest
of our days."
At this moment Roger Browning entered
the room, and glanced hurriedly around the
company assembled there. At length he dis-
covered where his two friends were, and imme-
diately came forward and joined them.
"Good evening, Browning, glad to see you
here so early," said the baronet, with easy non-
chalance, as he threw himself back in his seat and
glanced cursorily at the new comer
" How do you feel after yesternight's pota-
tions?" added Byrd, with easy concern, "bad
work drinking deep and playing heavy at the
same time."
** I'l'gad, I've had a tough time of it since," said
92
Browning, throwing himself into one of the seats.
" I could not rise from my bed until I emptied a
bottle of brandy, and swallowed a nauseous pre-
scription from Dr. Lomax. Even now I feel
more dead than alive."
" Then we shall have no play to-night," re-
marked Sir Lionel, with the same undisturbed
manner. " Well, I'm not troubled about that ;
indeed, I don't feel quite the thing myself. A
little champagne supper, with a quiet chat and a
good cigar, is more in my way. Will you join me,
Browning?"
" No, thanks," replied Browning, looking some-
what disappointed. " For my part I don't re-
quire quiet and rest ; it is something to excite
and occupy my mind that I need. I came here
purposely to have a good rubber or two. Come,
Sir Lionel, don't disappoint me. We'll make
the game interesting by staking high."
" Very well, old fellow, anything to meet your
wishes. I'm not particular one way or the other,
but I thought you were out of sorts, and did not
care about the thing. Ring the bell, Skipper,
and have number one room prepared for us. It
is not so draughty as the other places. In the
meantime, what will you take, Browing, wine,
negus or ?"
" Thank you, I'll keep to cogniac for the pre-
sent ; it's the only beverage that seems to brace
my nerves and clear my brain."
The room number one, which was quickly got
ready for them, was a place of very limited dimen-
sions, that is to say, about eight feet by six, with
a ceiling almost low enough to touch the head of
an ordinary sized man standing upright, and
there was no aperture or window by which the
daylight could gain an entrance. On each side
where the wall joined the ceiling, was a small,
movable grating, for the purpose of ventilation.
With the exception of this and the doorway
there were no other means by which the air
could gain an entrance or exit. The room was
simply furnished, with a small square table, a
silver candelabrum with four branches, and two
cushioned chairs facing each other. On the even-
ing in question there was a bright fire burning
93
in the grate, a kettle simmering on the hob, and
jugs, bottles, and drinking vessels arranged for
the two gentlemen who were going to have a
night of it at their favourite game.
As Roger entered this place, a strange chill
and creeping sensation passed over him, as though
he had suddenly stepped on some mysterious and
fatal ground, and at the same moment the pro-
phetic saying of our forefathers occurred to him,
namely, that there was some one walking over
his grave.
" I have given directions," said the baronet,
" that we are not to be disturbed until midnight,
when we shall adjourn to supper. Byrd will
join us then, so let us make ourselves easy on
that head. Now for business. Cut, Browning.
By Jove, an ace ! Come, that looks like a good
beginning."
For some time profound silence reigned between
the two players as they proceeded with the
game ; now and then their faces indicated the
varying success that attended on them — at one
time lighting with momentary triumph and the
next clouded with doubt and chagrin. At
length the tide of fortune seemed to turn in
favour of the baronet, and the great pile of
notes and gold at Roger's side grew small by
degrees and beautifully less. Every time the
latter would take up his cards after a deal, the
baronet would throw himself back in his chair,
and fix his eyes intently on the small grating
that was facing him. After a time several
cards would appear at this opening, which
faithfully represented the markings of those that
his opponent held in his hand. When the play
reached its last stage, and Roger's remaining
stock was thrown on the board, several of these
mysterious cards happened to fall to the ground,
and in the intense silence that prevailed the
incident was distinctly audible to both of the
players. With a sudden start Roger turned
quickly round, and to his amazement discovered
the cards scattered on the floor behind him.
With an instinct of suspicion he glanced upwards,
and at the same time noticed a movement of the
grating and the withdrawal of a hand. The
94
whole truth seemed to flash across his mind at
once, and he instantly sprang to his feet.
Simultaneously with him the baronet also rose
from his seat, and with a look of guilt in his
eyes, which he vainly attempted to hide,
exclaimed in apparent astonishment —
" Good heavens ! What's the matter. Brown-
ing? You look pale and ill shall I ring for
assistance ? "
The other stood bolt upi-ight before him, his
eyes fixed with a terrible scrutiny on the
baronet, while his face assumed a rigid and
ghastly expression that was fearful to behold.
The hot blood and fierce passions of his nature,
s jething and struggling within his breast made
his form tremble and quiver like one forcibly
attempting to repress the working of some
approaching fit.
" Cheat ! blackleg ! scoundrel ! "at length he
hissad out between his closely set lips, at the
same time dashing his hand fiercely on the
table beiv/een them.
" You shall answer for those words, sir,"
replied Kirby, wii h well simulated anger, draw-
ing himself up with dignified hauteur.
" Oh, what a fool — an arrant fool I have been
not to have suspected this before ! I have been
led blindfolded to my own ruin. Answer for
those words — did you say ? Ay, by heavens I
will, and this very night too ! And suiting the
action to the word, he seized a drinking vessel
near him, and dashed it and its contents into
tlie face of the baronet.
In the meantime Silvester had been working
hard at the oflice, making out a statement of all
that had transpired there from the commence-
ment. It was now about half past seven, so he
dismissed the clerks, and locking up the office
turned his steps in the direction of Richmond
Gardens, St. Anne-street, where he had apart-
ments. He had already engaged a place in the
Royal Mail, and had had his luggage taken to
the London Tavern in Water-street, where the
coach started from. He was going to make his
final preparations for the journey, and also to
see if any message had been sent from Marion,
95
while he would leave a letter for Roger, telling
him what ho had decided on doing.
The night was dark and wintry as he emerged
from the office, but he found crowds of clerks
and bubiness men like himself hurrying home-
ward after the labours of the day. When he
entered the house in Richmond-gardeus, he
found a young lad waiting for him with a letter
from Roger. He took the letter from the lad,
and with a vague suspicion of some new difficulty
in his mind, he tore it open nervously, and read
as follows: —
"Dear Silvester, — What you have long warned
me against has at leagth come to pass. I have been
robbed, cheated, ruined, by two scoundrels, but they
are now within my reach, and I shall make them,
answer for what they have done by the only means
left in my power. Before you read these lines the
result most probably will be known, and if I do not
come or send another messenger by eight o'clock, the
worst will have happened. Sir Lionel Kirby and
Morgan By rd are the names of the scoundrels! If I
should fail, do not forget to pursue them by legal or
other means, until the memory of your illfated friend
is avenged. I don't know the laws or customs in
England for dealing with this class : I only know
what we would do in Jamaica, and that is what I am
now determined in doing.
Oh, dearest friend! break tliis news gently to my
parents. The very thought of those dear ones over-
whelms me with grief, and unmans me for the stern
duty I have to perform. You have always been mj'
best friend, and had I followed your advice this would
never have happened. Show these lines to my father,
they will exonerate you from all blame, and prevent
anything arising which may be prejudicial to your
future prospects. Should I die, my last thoughts
will be of my father, mother, and my dear friend.
ROGER.
When he finished reading this he staggered
back some paces, and groaned aloud in the
anguish of his soul. A cold clammy sweat
oozed from every pore in his body, and for some
moments the terrible news seemed to deprive
him of all power of thought or volition. Then,
as if by magic, a sudden reaction set in, and he
started fiercely forward pacing the room with firm
and hasty strides. His face, in the meanwhile,
although pale and haggard had assumed a txed
96
and determined look. Beckoning the boy
towards him, he drew forth his watch and ex-
amined the time. It was now a quarter past
eight, and no Roger or messenger had arrived.
" Here boy, tell me who gave you this letter ?"
inquired he, in a voice of strange and repressed
calmness. " Please, sir, I got it from a gent in
Earle-street " said the urchin. "He seemed a
foreign looking man, very dark and swarthy.
After giving me the letter and this bit of money
he told me to lose no time in delivering it, and
then he went into a tavern there which is
kept by Mr. Bancroft,"
" Can you point out this tavern to me ? " said
Silvester, locking up the letter and some other
papers he had in his writing desk.
" Yes, sir; I know it well."
" Then come along at once. Take me the
shortest route you know, and I will reward you
handsomely."
They emerged from the house in hot haste,
and lost no time in traversing the streets lying
between Richmond -gardens and the locality
where Bowie's Bunk was situated. When they
reached the tavern Silvester dismissed the boy,
and then proceeded to examine the place from
the outside.
" I must keep myself calm and collected,"
said he, "or I may not be able to gain
admittance. Sir Lionel Kirby ; yes, that is the
name of one of the scoundrels. I'll call at once
at the tavern and request an interview with him.
It may be too late to prevent the deed, but
before apprising the authorities I will see the
position of afiairs myself."
Although Silvester muttered this to himself he
was far from being calm and composed in his
manner. He walked hurriedly across the street,
entered the tavern, and inquired if he could see
the landlord. When that functionary made his
appearance, the visitor said that he wished to
see Sir Lionel Kirby on important business, and,
after some suspicious hesitation on the part of
the landlord, he was at length admitted into
Bowie's Bunk, by the customary means of en-
trance.
97
The large room was by this time enveloped in
smoke from the pipes and cigars of the numerous
loungers there, but he had no difficulty in dis-
covering two figures, a little removed from the
rest, whose appearance was not altogether un-
known to him. No one had been sent to apprise
the baronet of the stranger's visit, so, feeling
confident that he was right in his surmise, Silves-
ter approached the place where they were seated
and accosted the baronet by name.
That individual started to his feet on the men-
tion of his name, and gazed with wonder and a
feeling of apprehension at the tall and pale-
looking man that confronted him. One of
his arms was bandaged with a handkerchief, and
was suspended by a sling from his neck. This
was not unnoticed by Silvester, and the thoughts
which it produced sent a quiver of horror through
his frame. "The meeting has taken place,"
thought he, " and lam too late; this fellow has
escaped with a slight wound, while Roger, my
friend, my trust, is lying cold and lifeless some-
where, the victim of these scoundrels' avarice and
villany."
Unable altogether to repress the rising fury
that he fult, he glanced fiercely at the baronet
and demanded in a peremptory voice the where-
abouts of his friend, Mr. Roger Browning.
"What business have you to address me, sir ?
I have not the honour of your acquaintance."
"I am a friend of Mr. Browning's," said he,
" and he has written telling me of a certain
quarrel between you."
" Oh ! indeed ! well, and what else ?"
" I want to know where he is. 1 see by your
arm that the deed has taken place," said
Silvester, pointing towards the bandaged arm.
" It will be suificient for you to know that I
am not Mr. Browning's keeper, and I decline to
have any more conversation with you."
"But you must and shall tell me where your
victim is," blurted out Silvester, his anger get-
ting the mastery of him, and seizing at the same
time the baronet by the collar, and holding him
at arm's length in a threatening manner.
"I say, stranger," shouted Byrd, jumping to
98
his feet, "mind what your are about; that man
is wounded."
" Yes, you're another of the cheats that have
robbed, and perhaps murdered my friend," said
Gerrard, turning with flashing eyes tnwards the
pirate, " but, by heavens if there was an army
of you I'll have my question answered."
" We'll see about that very soon," remarked
Byrd, with a sudden resolution. " Unhand that
gentleman at once, or I'll strike you to the
ground, you ruffian."
He had scarce'y uttered these words when
Silvester pushed the wounded baronet aside,
and springing quickly towards the other de-
livered him a powerful blow on the chest, that
sent him reeling back several yards, until he
finally stumbled, and fell.
By this time the disturbance had attracted
the attention of the rest of the company, and a
number of half intoxicated fellows surrounded
Silvester, and wanted to know what the quarrel
was about. But his agitation was so great that
he could not answer them ; his blood was up,
and he saw only the two men who were the
robbers and perhaps the murderers of his em-
ployer's son. The baronet volunteered a story
of his own about the affair.
"This is some unknown ruffian," said he,
" that has got admission into this place on the
pretence that he is the friend of a gentleman
who has lost a few hundreds upstairs. He has
been trying to intimidate Byrd and myself, with
the object no doubt of extracting some of the
winnings from us, but he has mistaken his men
on this occasion."
"He has uttered an infamovis falsehood,"
shouted Silvester, making an effort to seize the
baronet ; " he knows I came here to inquire about
my friend, whom they have robbed and I believe
murdered. I will not leave this place until I
learn where he is."
" This is evidently a matter they will have to
settle amongst themselves," said one of the
company, " but we must have no fighting or
brawling here. The Cuban Pirate is well able
to take care of himself, and there is plenty of
99
space beyond the church for a good stand up
fight. Take my advice friends and adjourn to
that quarter.
"Ay, ay," said the others, delighted with the
idea, "let them have it out by torchlight. The
stranger is a tall, well-made fellow, and ought
to be a good match for Bully Morgan."
The majority of the company, however, were
desirious of maintaining a show of respectability
in the place, and despatched a messenger for the
landlord for the purpose of having the disputants
ejected.
In the meantime Byrd had regained his feet,
and smarting from the eflects of the blow aud
the disgrace it entailed, he approached quickly
to where the group was gathered around
the excited Silvester. There was a gleam in his
bloodshot eyes, and a resolve in his firm set lips
that boded no good for his assailant. With the
treacherous instinct of all brutal natures, he
seized the opportunity of the almost defenceless
position of his opponent to wreak a terrible and
summary vengeance for the blow which he had
received. While the other was surrounded and
held back by several of the party, the pirate
rushed furiously at him, and, without a word of
warning, struck him a terrible blow between the
eyes with his iron clamped forearm. The result
WAS instantaneous ; the victim fell secseless to
the ground, and the blood spurted out on all
sides from the frightful wound inflicted. A
general murmur of disapproval arose from all
present, but the landlord had now arrived, and
wishing to prevent any further disturbance h&
had the uncotiscious Silvester removed from the
room, and also intimated that the Baronet and
Byrd should take their departure.
"By heavens, Byrd, this is more serious than
my little aflair," said Sir Lionel, when they had
reached the strewt. " We must clear out of
Liverpool until it has blown over. You should
be more careful in using that fearful arm of
yours : the lives of men nowadays are
of more consequence than they were a few years
back."
"Curse him!" replied the other withi
100
unabated ferocity; "he struck me as I have
never been struck before. I hope it is the last
blow he will ever be able to give."
We must now hark back a little, for the
purpose of vpitnessing the duel that took place
between Sir Lionel Kirby and Roger Browning.
The place selected was a large outhouse or shed
in the vicinity of St. Paul's church, and close to
where the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway
lines now cross. Morgan Byrd acted as the
second to his friend, while a frequent visitor at
the Bunk performed a like office for Roger
Browning. When everything was in readiness
the two men confronted each other, and the
signal to fire was quickly given. At the first
shot the baronet staggered forward — apparently
hit — and throwing up his hands fell heavily to
the ground. The two seconds immediately ran
towards him, and stooping down unbuttoned his
coat and vest, and proceeded to examine the
nature of the wound he had received. In the
meanwhile Roger remained at the spot where
he was placed, and could only indistinctly see
what was going on from the smoke that
followed the discharge of firearms, and the
imperfect light that did service on the
occasion.
After a time his second returned to him,
^apparently flurried and excited, and in an earnest
jnanner said,
" You have hit him, friend, and he is either
dying or in a swoon. The pirate is off to hunt
up a doctor, but in my opinion no doctor can do
him any good. In the meanwhile you had better
make yourself scarce ; leave the town with as
little delay as possible, or you may find yourself
locked upon a charge of mvirder."
This seemed very plausible advice to Roger ;
he had exacted satisfaction for the wrongs done
him, and, with his limited knowledge of the
laws of English life, he could see nothing but
prudence and safety in the course suggested.
" These things are now taken seriously by the
authorities," continued he, " and since the wars
have ended, an affair of honour is treated much
in the same way as a case of murder. In a few
101
hours the whole thing will be the talk of the
town, and if you take my advice you'll put a good
distance between yourself and this place before
the morning,"
Roger did not wait for any further parley ; he
started at once for Richmond Gardens, when,
finding that Silvester had only just left, he
scribbled a few lines explanatory of what had
taken place, and then collecting some luggage
together he started immediately to catch the
Royal Mail coach for London. When he
reached the metropolis he engaged a passage on
the first ship sailing for the West Indies, deter-
mining to take the bull by the horns, and make
a full confession of all his past conduct to his
parents.
The circumstances of the duel were in keeping
with the character of the men engaged in it, with
the solitary exception of Roger Browning.
The pistols had been loaded with powder only,
the pseudo-baronet was not wounded at all, and
Roger's second was in league with the others to
carry out the mock duel, in fact they belonged
to a gang of swindlers and sharpers, who
frequented the Bunk to victimize the gambling
youths that went there, and managed their busi-
ness so well that few save the landlord and one
or two others were really cognisant of their true
characters.
CHAPTER IV.
An interval of eight or ten years had passed
«ince the incidents recorded iu the prece-
ding chapters. The head of the firm of Browning,
Browning & Co., has been consigned to his last
resting place, and his son Roger is now the head
of the concern, and a shrewd, practical, and in-
telligent successor he makes, notwithstanding
the eax'ly misconduct and extravagances which
we have had occasion to record against him. The
effect of the duel, and the large money losses,
wrought a permanent change in his character.
102
From the moment he quitted England the whole
course of his life was altered, and he set about
forming his habits and conduct after the model
of his lost and ill-fated friend, Silvester. The
pseudo-baronet, Kirby, was caught red-handed
in an aflair of robbery, in which he was assisted
by his boon companion the pirate, but, owing
to some bungling on the part of the captors, the
latter escaped conviction, while Sir Lionel was
sentenced to penal servitude for the remainder of
his days. With regard to the fate of Silvester
Gerard there was little known, beyond the fact
that he was carried out of the Bunk senseless and
placed in some entry at a distance, where he was
afterwards found by a constable who had been sum-
moned to the spot. A drunken brawl or some-
thing of the kind had taken place, and all the
constable had to do was to have the injured
man conveyed at once to the new infirmary.
The total disregard of life by the frequenters at
the Bunk, the suspicious nature of several of
their own doings, the earnest solicitations of the
landlord, and the dread of Eyrd's wrath, was
sufficient to seal the lips of all who had witnessed
the occurrence.
When Roger returned to Kingston and made
a clean breast of all his delinquencies, his parent
was terribly wroth at what had occurred, and not
less so at the deception practised on him, as he
thought, by his hitherto trusted and confidential
clerk. To tell the truth, Roger exonerated his
friend from all blame, but his parent was
implacable, and would hold no further com-
munication with Silvester. He remembered the
strict injunctions he had given him, and nothing
could excuse such a dereliction of duty, in his
mind. With regard to his son, however, the
case was different; besides being a privileged
party, he was placed entirely under the control
of the other; when he showed any inclinations
to fall into forbidden ways, Silvester should
have acquainted his parents at once. No; his
conduct was inexcusable, and he was made
the scapegoat. In addition to this, Ralph
Browning had never received a line from
bis clerk, either apologising for his neglect
103
of duty or explaining, as he was bound to
do, the full circumstances of what had oc-
curred in Liverpool. In fact, it appeared as
if he treated his master with contempt, or was
less guiltless in the whole aftair than his son
cared to admit.
But in the course of time, when father and son
became reconciled, and Roger was ultimately
taken into partnership, the latter felt it hia
bounden duty to find his former friend, and
make some compensation for all that he had
sacrificed in his well-meant desire to shield hia
early misconduct from the knowledge of his
parents. Although he had written repeatedly to
Liverpool, and instituted what search he could,
still, no trace save the most problematic could be
found of his missing friend. The most he could
learn was, that a person of his description was
frightfully injured in some street brawl about
the time, and after remaining for some time in the
Infirmary was eventually discharged con-
valescent. After leaving the Infirmary all
trace of him was lost, and the eflbrts of hia
correspondents failed to find any other clue.
However, when the elder Browning died, and
Roger became head of the firm, he determined
to make a last efiort to recover traces of his
friend. With this object he came over to Liver-
pool himself, and had the purpose of his visit
advertised in the local papers.
Poor Marion Gunstone never looked up again
after the departure of her lover. She grew
rapidly worse day by day, and when at length
she was unable to leave her bed, she would lie
there in a semi-swoon or trance for hours to-
gether, never uttering a word or moving a
muscle, but her eyes wide open, gazing sadly but
steadily into the future. The non arrival of the
promised letter from London aflected her deeply,
but as usual she had abundant excuses for Silves-
ter. He was too preoccupied with his own troubles,
and perhaps had not time to write it before the
ship started on her voyage. At length the end
arrived earlier than expected. One morning she
called Mrs. Aitkins to her bedside, and told her
that she had had a vision. A man, with Silves-
104
ter's figure and voice approached her during the
night, and remained for some hours beside her
couch, weeping bitterly. She did not see his
face, although she made every effort to do so,
but she heard his voice and saw his figure
plainly and distinctly enough. In fact, she
believed she held his hand within her own, and
felt it cold, clammy, and deathlike. Then all at
once the scene changed, and she saw a splendid
palace before her. The gateway leading to this
was dark and forbidding, with immense cyprus
and willow trees casting a melancholy gloom
around. Friends and acquaintances seemed to
accompany her towards this gate, but the figure
of Silvester alone passed the portals along with
her. The pathway towards the palace was now
spread with cloth of gold, and the former gloom
was dispersed by a flood of inconceivable light
and glory that seemed to burst from every
object around them. "I can go no further,"
murmured the companion by her side, "lam
drawn back through the gloomy entrance, and
must say farewell. " The sound of his voice
had a magical effect ; the fabric of the vision
became confused and chaotic, the glittering
palace melted away, and the wonderful and
beautiful objects around her were dispersed like
thin vaporous cloudlets before the breath of
some mighty wind. Long after all had disap-
peared, she could hear the sound of his last
words ringing in her ears, " I can go no further,
I am drawn back through the gloomy entrance,
and must say farewell."
" Had I breath and time to describe all that I
saw," said Marion, "it would take me years and
years to do so satisfactorily. But I just give you
the faint outlines of the vision, so that you may
assist me to interpret it. That my companion was
Silvester I am morally certain, but why should
his face be veiled from me, and why should he
have the privilege to pass the gloomy portals ? "
Mrs. Aitkin humoured her with some fanciful
and pleasing interpretation, and thou attempted
to smile the whole vision away, as something
emanating from her continual thought and
anxiety regarding her lover.
105
But Marion was seriously in earnest, and
believed implicitly that something of an unusual
nature had happened to her lover.
" I told you I would never see him again in
this world," said she, "and you disbelieved me
and laughed at my fears. I am as positive now
that some misfortune or accident has overtaken
him, and when I am sleeping in my grave you
will discover the truth of what I say. But
stay. The vision rises before me again, and I
will now learn all that has occurred. Give me
your hand, Aitkins, and do not let me pass from
your presence."
These words were spoken with great difficulty
and in a voice scarcely above a whisper. The
good housekeeper lifted the white and wasted
hand in hers, and gazed sadly at the pale and
beautiful girl that lay before her. All was
silent and breathless in the chamber. She re-
mained for some time watching the motionless
patient, expecting every now and then that she
would open her eyes and describe the wonders
of her second vision. But alas ! the sweet spirit
had taken flight.
She was buried in the grave where her
parents rested, and, in compliance with her
wishes, the little locket that Silvester gave her
was placed around her neck in the coffin. All
the money she possessed was left to her lover,
after making provision for the good old lady
who was so attentive and assiduous during her
illness.
When years had passed away, and the little
grave in the churchyard showed unmistakable
signs of decay and neglect, a stranger came one
day, and paid lavishly to have it renovated, and
a new and costly head-stone raised above the
honoured remains. Visitors to the place often
wondered at the newly ornamented grave, and
the wreaths of beautiful flowers and forget-me-
nots that were regularly placed upon it. There
could be no doubt that some fond and loving
heart remained behind, and that memory and
afi'ection for the silent dead was unchanged by
the absorbing cares of life or the slow consuming
process of advancing years.
106
About this time there was a solitary cottage
standing on the Wa vert ree -road, which had a
sort of mystery and notoriety attached to it. It
was inhabited by a certain blind man and his
dog, and, with the exception of an old woman
who called occasionally to do some charing, no
one else was ever seen to enter or leave it. Who
he was, what business in life he followed, or
whether he was rich or poor was a mystery to
those who resided in the neighbourhood. He
was observed to leave the cottage every after-
noon about dusk, with a green baize bag under
his arm, and it was often three or four o'clock in
the morning before he again returned. In stature
he was tall, but stooped slightly, giving the
impression that he was once a strong and mus-
cular man, but now cousiderably reduced by
disease or accident. He was dressed in shabby
genteel clothes, the remains of former respec-
tability, with a tall hat, and a green shade
covering the upper part of his face, thereby
leaving the form and expression a perfect
enigma to the inquisitive beholder. He was
seldom heard to speak, and then only in the
most gentle and kindly accents, but he appeared
to be continually moving his lips, as though
muttering some words to himself, or engaged in
silent and earnest prayer. Altt>gether he was a
person of considerable interest to his suburban
neighbours ; but as his habits were unobtrusive
and harmless, their inquisitiveness seldom ex-
tended further than an occasional gossip at his
expense, or the expressed opinion that he was a
decayed gentleman or harmless lunatic.
When he left the cottage in the evening he
usually made his way, guided by the dog, to the
most populous parts of the town, where he visited
several public-houses, chiefly the resort of sailors,
playing a violin which he carried, and receiving
in return a small subscription from the company
for his pains. At this period Bowie's Bunk
was a thing of the past. Bancroft had taken
flight, on some nefarious doings having been
made public, and another proprietor rented the
tavern, conducting it on lines more respectable
and legitimate. Few seafaring men, and none
107
of the old school, used to patronise it now. The
centre of attraction had moved more southward,
and in these localities the blind man was gener-
ally to be found. After making bis customary
round among the taverns he then proceeded to a
notable singing saloon in Frederick-street, where
his musical talents were specially retained for
the edification of the boisterous frequenters
there. This place was a nightly rendezvous for
roughs, sailors, loafers, thieves, and ladies of
questionable reputation. Here until the early
hours of morning they used to cheat the fleeting
time with numerous songs, dances, and recita-
tions, in which the blind man and his fiddle did
duty as the orchestra. There was no stint to
the drink consumed on both sides. The clatter
of pots and glasses, the frequent calls for the
■waiter, the huzzas, oaths, and maudlin ejacula-
tions of the inebriates, in addition to the rattle
of the chairman's hammer, and his stento-
rian voice commanding silence, as Mr. or
Miss So-and-so was going to oblige the
company with a song, completed a concert of
din and discord that may be better imagined
than described. But amongst this hilarious
assemblage there were several dark and sinister
individuals that usually sat apart, whispering
among themselves ; sometimes glancing mean-
ingly from one to the other, as some sailor was
particularly lavish of his money, or another paid
any special attentions to the painted and
simpering ladies of their acquaintance. When
the night wore on and the company began to
disperse, several of these fellows remained
behind, and, when the place became deserted
they would throw off all restraint, and talk aloud
about their plans and doings, with careless
indifference as to the presence of the musician.
This individual usually sat still and motionless
as a statue when he was not playing, and
appeared to take no interest whatever in what
was going on around him.
On a certain night in January, before the
general company had began to assemble, a
thick set, rough looking fellow, with something
of the gait and appearance of the sailor about
108
him, lounged carelessly into the place, and sat
himself down beside the only other individual
there, except the musician who had already
arrived. There was a small space partitioned
off where the latter used to sit, so that to the
ordinary occupant of the saloon his presence
would be overlooked. After ordering in drinks,
the newcomer, being an old acquaintance of the
others, commenced at once a confidential chat
intended only for his friend's ear, but loud
enough to be heard in all its details by the silent
musician. There was something particularly
harsh and strident in the speaker's voice, and
now and then his conversation was momentarily
interrupted by a painful habit he had of
stammering.
" Look you here, mate," observed he with a
significant nod, " there's a craft in the offing
that I mean to overhaul before the morning.
The prize is not over tempting, but times are
bad, and a fellow has to be satisfied with small
mercies nowadays. Just give me your
ear a moment, and I'll spin you the
whole yarn. Well, in the first place, there's
a gent — a millionaire from Jamaica — who
has just landed from one of the West India-
men. A sailor friend of mine aboard informs
me that he has come over to Liverpool to hunt
up an old chum of his that's missing. Now,
would you believe it, this swell from Jamaica
and tlie chum he is seeking for are both old
acquaintances of mine. Ha ! ha! ha ! Poor Dick
Kirby — you remember Dick ? — had the agreeable
duty of fleecing the former of them chaps out
of a good round sum at cards. The little game
was detected, and a sham duel resulted. Dick
pretended to be shot, and we frightened the
other party out of England, under the idea that
he would be hung if caught, and then we set
about spending the money among ourselves in
a truly royal manner. But it did not end
there; the other chap— the fellow that is
now missing — came to the old Bunk and
openly accused Kirby and me of having
robbed his mate. Let me see, what was his
name — ay. Browning — Roger Browning. Well,
109
a bit of a tussle ensued and — curse hira,
he gave me the heaviest blow ever I received
in my life. I have never had the same power in
my left arm since. But I was evens with him after-
wards, I got a drive at him with this,
(showing his iron clad stump) and he
was carried feet foremost, out of the old Bunk.
I tell you all this by way of leading up to the
little game I have hatched for execution to-night.
Well, I got my missus to send a letter to this
Roger Browning, telling him that she is pre-
pared to take him to where his friend is, if he
meets her at a certain place on the Walton-road
at ten o'clock to-night. He is to come alone,
and keep the whole thing a secret, or
she will decline to fulfil her promise."
" Do you know where his pal hangs out ?"
observed the other.
"Know! I wish to heaven I did," exclaimed
the speaker fiercely, " I'd soon make a pretty
sight of him before I introduced them. Look
here, mate, I owe that fellow an eternal grudge,
and if we ever fall foul of each other there'll be
a man less in the world."
"Well, goon; let us see what you're about,"
said the companion. " Perhaps you expect
this Brooming will bring coin along with him.'"'
" No, you are out of it altogether — Is it likely
he'd bring any amount of money on an errand
like that ? What I want to finger is a splendid
diamond ring which he wears. The ring is of
fabulous value ; he used to wear it when he was
here before, and Kirby and I had a covetous eye
to it, but could never manage to get it. A Jew
once told me that it was worth five-hundred
guineas. I happened to meet him an hour
ago, and sure enough the same ring is on his
finger. He did not recognise me, and I wasn't
particularly anxious that he should, but, as
soon as I twigged the ring my mind was
made up. I have just got my missus to
write the letter, and have it delivered at his
hotel. "
"It's a serious move, Byrd, but I hope you
may get safely through it. How are you to
dispose of the ring if you get it ? "
no
." Leave that to me, that's easy enough. I
iiave all my plans arranged for that business.
All I want is to get hold of it, and the rest is
easily done."
" It may be a tough job to get hold of it,
though," observed the other, " he is not
nnlikely to be well armed against surprise and
danger."
" Yes, yes, I am prepared for that too ; I
have taken everything into consideration."
Here he touched something significantly bulky
in the pocket of his coat.
" Be careful of bloodshed, Byrd ; you're
inclined to be rash when excited. The big wigs
are terrible severe on that sort of thing
nowadays. You know the final scene
in the play — a long rope and a short
shrift. "
" If there's any bloodshed the fault will be
his," remarked Byrd. " The diamond ring I
mean to have, and will have, at all costs."
At this point there was a slight noise behind
the partition wheve the musician was seated.
Byrd instantly sprang to his feet, and glanced
fiercely at his companion."
" What's that ? Why the didn't you tell
tell me there was someone here ?"
" Be easy, man, its only the daft fiddler," said
the other, " he's blind, deaf, and I believe dumb,
no one ever takes any notice of him."
But Byrd was by no means reassured, and
stepping quickly forward he glanced round the
intervening partition. The musician was seated
before a small table with his head bowed between
his hands, as though in a sound sleep. The
ruffian gazed at him for a moment, as if un-
certain whether to shake him or not, but feeling
convinced that he was really asleep and not
shamming, he turned away, and went back to
his companion.
** I must be at the turn o' the road this side
of Walton Church before ten o'clock, so I have
no time to lose," said he. "I will see you later
on, and tell you the result. Keep your eye on
that lubber that's sleeping yonder, I'm by no
means satisfied about him."
Ill
The other laughed and shook his head
indifferently, "You have nothing to fear in that
quarter, Byrd, he knows as much of what you
said as this here table before me."
CHAPTER V.
Roger Browning was agreeably surprised to
receive the anonymous letter offering to take
him to his missing friend. He entertained
no doubt or suspicion regarding it, and readily
made up his mind to follow the instructions
given. The writing was in a female hand, though
evidently written by an illiterate person, and
as there was no reward mentioned or conditions
stipulated for, save secrecy, he saw no reason to
consider it otherwise than bona fide. As to his
correspondent's knowledge of the object of his
errand, that was easily enough explained — he
had made no secret of the matter from the
first — advertised repeatedly in the papers about
it, and during his voyage to Liverpool he had
freely conversed with the passengers and sailors
on the subject. No doubt it seemed strange
that his friend was so difficult to find, but from
the purport of the letter it was evident he
did not desire a renewal of their acquaintance,
and hence the condition of secrecy stipulated for
by his correspondent. Perhaps she was some
servant in his friend's employ, and was afraid of
incurring his displeasure by what she had offered
to do. In any case he was satisfied that the
letter was genuine, and would have no hesitation
in keeping the appointment.
When the time for tiie interview approached,
he hired a vehicle to take him part of the way,
and then dismissed it, and made the rest of
the journey on foot. He was to recognise his
correspondent by certain signs (not mentioned
by Byrd in his conversation) and he had only to
proceed along the road until he overtook a
female who would make the necessary signals.
He was greatly overjoyed at the prospect of
lis
meeting his old friend again, and did not doubt
his ability to remove any feeling of bitterness or
injustice that might still linger in his breast.
The time that had elapsed only endeared more
and more the memory of that true friend, his
words of wisdom and brotherly advice, the
noble manliness and integrity of his character,
and the unfulfilled hopes and ambition that they
had so confidentially discussed together,
Roger's generous nature saw and acknowledged
his own culpability for all the misfortunes that
had overtaken his friend, but now he would
show him that his heart was in the right place —
that he was true at the core — that he was pre-
pared to do all that now lay in his power to
remedy the injustice of the past.
While he was proceeding along the road
thinking thus of his friend and the past, some
quarter of a mile in advance of him a man and
woman were walking in the same direction. The
man was Morgan Byrd, and he appeared to be
instructing the woman how she was to act,
and with many brutal phrases and threatening
oaths, he impressed on her the importance of
what they were about to do, and that if they
failed in the undertaking the fault would be
undoubtedly hers. If she did not follow his
instructions to the letter, she knew what to
expect when they met again. She was to take
the stranger from the high road, and lead him
across the fields to the left, towards an old,
disused barn that stood some distance off. She
was then to leave him there, and he would do
the rest. After imparting his instructions,
Byrd quitted the woman's side, while she
remained standmg at the spot, waiting the
the arrival of the expected stranger.
It was not long before the sound of approach-
ing footsteps were heard, and shortly afterwards
a gentleman appeared, coming from the
direction of Liverpool, As soon as the figure
advanced close enough, she dropped a white
handkerchief, and coughed slightly to attract
attention. This was the signal, which Roger
understood, as he immediately crossed the road,
and came over towards the woman.
113
Thanking her for her punctuality, and the
information which she had volunteered to give, he
promised to reward her handsomely after the
meeting between himself and his friend took
place. She made no answer to anything he said,
and it was evident that she did not wish to be
entrapped into conversation. The night, though
cold, was clear and bright, but she was so
closely muffled up, and her face so concealed,
that he could not quite make out whether she
was a lady or a menial. However, he could see
that she did not wish to be recognised, and
without endeavouring to satisfy his curiosity
further, he at once informed her that he was at
her disposal. At this she beckoned him to
follow her, and then led the way along a bridle
path that crossed some fields in the direction of
Bootle. They had not been many minutes gone,
when the blind musician, accompanied by a boy,
came running along the road panting, and out
of breath.
"Where are we now — where are we now?"
interrogated the blind man anxiously as they
reached the spot where the bridle-path com-
menced. "It is already past the time I fear,
and we may be too late after all."
"This is the turn of the road you
mentioned," said the boy, " and yonder is
Walton Church."
"Look about you then, and try if you can see
anyone. This is the place I heard him mention.
You say the night is clear and bright, so you'll
have no difficulty in seeing if anyone is in the
vicinity."
The boy looked carefully about, but could see
no one. He left the blind man's side, and
proceeded some distance towards the church,
examining the road cautiously as he went. In
the meantime the musician exhibited consider-
able nervousness and anxiety ; he gave expression
to repeated sighs and groans, while he muttered
hurriedly to himself, "I feared this from the
first — I suspected I would be too late.
The time lost in apprising the constables,
and finding a boy to guide me has
been fatal. Oh, God ! what must I
. 114
do to save the life of my friend?" Here
the boy returnad to his side, and informed him
that there was no sign of any one about. At
this he staggered back a step or two, and
appeared to tremble from head to foot. He
was completely paralyzed by the terrible
apprehensions that seized upon him. When
the ruffian he had pursued for years was within
his grasp, the same ill luck that dogged him
through life interposed, and defeated his pur-
pose. Roger Browning would be incautious
enough to wear the ring, and he would not
part with it save at the cost of his life. The
result could easily be imagined. As he stood
there with his arms outstretched and his face
turned upward, as though appealing in his
despair to heaven, the boy gazed on him with
fear and terror, and felt half inclined to give him
the slip and retrace his steps to Liverpool. All
at once, in the profound silence that reigned,
something set-med to strike on the ear of the
distracted man, he instantly started from his
position, and whispered aloud to the lad.
" Here, boy — quick, quick. I hear the sound
of footsteps, a cough yonder. Look in that
direction, and tell me if you see a figure." He
pointed towards the bridle path which Roger
and the woman had taken. A sharp, crisp frost
had hardened the ground, and the sound of
distant footsteps might readily be distinguished
by the keen sense of hearing that blind people
are generally gifted with."
" Yes, sir," said the boy, " I think I see
something moving down the by-path that leads
to Bootle. The moon has just risen, and I can
see a good distance now. Yes, sir, I am certain^
there are two figures there — about two hundred
yards distant."
" Thank God ! "ejaculated the other piously;
" we may be in time yet. Where is this by-
path ? " give me your hand and lead me after
them."
" We are close beside it, sir ; here is the stile,
be careful of the steps."
" Good boy, good boy," said the blind man re-
peatedly ; " your services have been invaluable
115
to me to-night. I shall reward you well when it
is over."
His hand felt deadly cold as he grasped that
of the boy, but his step was firm and elastic.
He hurried forward almost joyously in pursuit
of the retreating forms.
" You must return by this pathway again,' ^
said he, "the constables will be here shortly, and
they will remain on the road until you come. I
will show you where you are to bring them."
In the meantime Roger and his companion had
made their way to the old barn, which stood a
little distance to the north of the bye path. It
was a tumble-down, roofless building, deserted
for all useful purposes, and occupied a very
solitary and unfrequented spot on some waste
land. When they reached this place the woman
led him into the interior, ejid then told him to
remain a short time there until she returned.
Immediately after the woman's departure, a man
emerged from a dark corner of the building and
suddenly approached him. For the first time a
suspicion crossed the merchant's mind, and he
drew back towards the doorway in order to get
a better view of the unknown figure. Quick,
however, as he was, the other reached the door-
way first, and barred his further retreat.
" Who are you, and what does this mean ?""
said Roger, beginning to feel that his indiscreet
credulity had led him into a trap.
"I wane no words with you," replied the other,
in a harsh, low whisper, " If you value your
life give me that diamond ring you wear."
The diamond ring sure enough was gleaming^
on his finger. A trinket of great value, both
from intrinsic worth and association, in fact, a
priceless heirloom of the family that money
could scarcely buy. Sooner than part with it
Ro^er would peril his life a hundred times. Before
answering at once he glanced quickly around to
take the bearings of his position. With his
natural carelessness he had come away unarmed,
and, it was highly probable that the man who
confronted him had not followed his example.
There was no other help for it but to trust to his
physical powers, and make a desperate effort for
116
his life. He was strong and active, and barring
deadly weapons could take his own part.
" What ! have I been entrapped here to be
robbed and murdered. Never while I have an
arm to defend myself shall you possess the
trinket you covet."
He had scarcely uttered the words before he
sprang suddenly forward, but the Cuban pirate
had anticipated him, and dealt him a blow with
the fatal forearm that sent him reeling across the
shed. Following this up with another well-
directed blow, he presently hurled him to the
ground completely helpless and unconscious.
In the excitemeut of the moment the victor
failed to notice the hurried approach of footsteps
close behind him. The moon was now shining
brightly, and the figures of the two men in the
roofless barn were fully defined. All at once
the boy's voice, like the knell of doom, smote
Tupon his ear.
"There he is before you — two paces distant,
ithe other is lying dead upon the floor."
Before Byrd had time to face around and de-
fend himself, he was seized with a grip of iron
by the infuriated blind man. With a strange
unnatural cry — more like the shriek of a mad-
man — his assailant tightened the grip about his
throat, and forced his body forward toward the
opposite wall. A terrible struggle hereupon
ensued, both men were powerful and muscular,
but the half insane fury of the musician gave
him a decided advantage from the first over his
amazed opponent. While they writhed and
struggled fiercely, he shrieked out at the top of
his voice — " Morgan Byrd, robber and murderer !
I have you now. I got your confrere trans-
ported two years ago, I shall get you hanged !
You deprived me of my eyesight by a treacherous
blow once, I shall soon shut out the light of the
world to you for ever ! "
It was in vain that the powerful ruffian con-
tended against his desperate adversary; he
was almost suffocated by the terrible grip upon
his throat, and his most formidable weapon,
the iron clamped arm was rendered useless by
the position in which he was held. The end was
117
Dot far distant ; after one superhuman effort to
shake himself free, his mind became confused
and unconscious; the unrelaxed pressure on
his throat told its tale ; like a heap of inert
matter he rolled to the feet of his antagonist,
and lay there, helpless and overpowered, an
easy prisoner to the victorious musician.
At this moment two constables entered the
barn accompanied by the boy. They quickly
secured the exhausted Byrd, and had him
lodged in prison that night. He was a notorious
malefactor, and several cases of murder, in
which he had played the leading part, were
charged against him at his trial. He was
sentenced to be hanged, and paid the penalty
of his numerous crimes some time afterwards.
When the conflict was over, the blind man
was led to the side of the injured merchant.
He lifted him into a recumbent position, and
dispatched the boy and some strangers, who had
now arrived, to find a doctor and to procure what
restoratives could be obtained. It was not long
before Roger Browning was fully restored to
himself again; he was greatly delighted to
discover his long-lost friend in the person of the
blind musician, and to whose timely aid and
bravery he undoubtedly owed his life.
When the newly restored friends returned to
Liverpool they spent the night in talking over
old times, and the changes that had taken place
since they last parted. The merchant could not
induce Silvester to return with him to Kingston,
but he made him his principal agent here, and
set him up in a commodious office with several
clerks to attend on him.
The gentle, kindly blind man was a well-
known figure amongst the commercial com-
munity, about sixty years ago. He lived to a
good old age, but his latter years were spent
in comparative seclusion. When he departed
this life his remains were laid beside those of
Ms sweetheart, Marion Gunstone.
THE SLAVE MERCHANT.
CHAPTER I.
Exactly one hundred years ago, a gentleman,
named James Norton, was commissioned by one
of the societies for the suppression of the slave
trade to take a voyage to the coast of Guinea,
and report upon what he saw there : the means
employed for capturing slaves, the localities
whence they were deported, and the treat-
ment they underwent before being finally handed
over to the English captain for shipment to the
West Indies. It must be understood that he
had to keep the object of his journey a secret
from those engaged in the trade ; for the agita-
tion it was then causing throughout the country,
the considerable wealth that was invested in it,
and the impetus it gave to several of our own
manufactures, made it incumbent on those
whose interests were concerned to keep the
general public in ignorance of its more brutal
and inhuman practices. It was, therefore, with
the osteDsible object of opening a storehouse on
the coast of Guinea that James Norton engaged
a berth on board the schooner Jemmy, and sailed
from the port of Liverpool in the early part of
the year 1786.
Besides Norton, there was only another pas-
senger on board the schooner during the out-
ward voyage; he was a low- sized, square
built, elderly gentleman, named William
Meyrick, who was remarkably distant in his
manner and unsociable in his disposition. He
seemed to be suspicious about the nature of his
fellow passenger's errand, and showed a decided
inclination to avoid his society as much as
possible. A little incident occurred, however,
one morning which had the effect of bringing
119
them into closer and more friendly intercourse.
It happened in this wise : Wliile Meyrick was
standing on deck reading over some important
document, a sudden gust of wind whirled the
paper from his hand, and carried it over the
bulwarks into the sea. He made a
sudden plunge forward, as though he
intended following it, but, quickly recollecting
that he could not swim, he turned round ex-
citedly and shouted vigorously for help. " Save
the paper ! Save the paper for heaven's sake ! I
am a ruined man if it is lost. Is there a man
on board who will recover it ? I'll give him fifty
pounds if he does." The other _ passenger
happened to be the only person within hearing
at the moment ; he had been a witness to what
had just taken place, so without any hesitation
he cast off the greater part of his clothes, and
made a desperate effort to regain the lost docu-
ment. Fortunately the sea was tranquil at the
time ; so being an expert and practical swimmer
he at length succeeded in recovering the lost
paper for its distracted owner. From this day
forth the taciturn Meyrick became the most
sociable and agreeable of companions. The
reward of fifty pounds was not claimed by
Norton ; and the other, no doubt, from interested
motives, saw no reason why he should refer to
the matter again.
Many of the Liverpool merchants engaged in
the slave traffic were largely interested in other
branches of commerce. This, however, was not
the case with William Meyrick. The slave trade
was the only line of business he followed; it
absorbed all the faculties of his busy brain, and
all the capital which he had at his disposal. He was
a remarkable character in his way ; outside his own
business there was nothing to interest or
attract him in the world ; he was as indifferent
to the doings and movements of his fellowmen
as if they belonged to an entirely different race
of beings altogether. Existence had but one
grave and solemn claim upon him, and that was
to use the energies of his mind and body to-
wards the advancement of his own interests.
-Still, despite his successful trading, and the
120
considerable wealth he had already amassed,
there was ever a grim and threatening spectre
that hovered near him ; it chilled and affrighted
him in vague warnings about possible eventu-
alities in the future; it became, in the
course of time, the very terror of his life
and the ready incentive to all the worst
actions which he committed. This vague,
undefined, impalpable something was nothing
else than the gaunt spectre of poverty. It
was seldom absent from his mind, ever freezing
up the better channels and impulses of his heart ;
in fact the sole agency that held undisputed
swayover all the considerations and incidents of
bis mercantile life.
One evening, when the voyage was drawing
towards its close, the two passengers had a longer
chat than usual together, the elder in particular
taking a more than ordinary interest in the
subject they discussed. They were seated on
deck looking at the low line of African coast in
the distance, the almost moveless expance of
ocean that spread around them, the large num-
ber of ships that were lying at anchor in the
roadstead, with smaller craft passing regularly
to and fro between these and the coast ; over-
head a fiery, copper-coloured sky extended, the
atmosphere was as dull, heavy, and oppressive
as that in the neighbourhood of some immense
furnace, whilst away where the sun had
just disappeared a crimson sheet of light illu-
mined the surrounding heavens.
" Henceforth our walks in life will be different,
and with the termination of our journey we
may not meet again for years."
The younger man spoke thus, as he contem-
plated with a curious eye the strange and foreign
scene before him.
The other glanced keenly at the speaker for
some seconds, and then replied in a tone of voice
that suggested suspicion,
" Why, I thought you were going to open a
store out here ? At least that is what you led
me to believe."
" Well, yes, that was my intention at first, but
I begin to fear the climate may not agree with
121
me ; and, besides, after what you have told me it
is very evident that my little capital will be too
limited for the purpose."
"As far as 1 can judge your health appears right
enough," said themerchant, taking another steady
look at him ; ' ' but how about your general habits ?
Are you given to drink and that sort of thing ? "
" On the contrary I am almost a total
abstainer," returned Norton.
"If that is the case then I see no reason why
the climate should disagree with you. What is
the amount of money you have, if I may ask that
question ? "
For a moment the other hesitated before
answering this plain question, but seeing no
necessity for reticence on the point he immed-
iately replied.
"Only a matter of two or three hundred
pounds ; a trifling sum to begin life with."
" Young man, the value of money does not
consist so much in the quantity, as in the profit-
able uses you apply it to," said the merchant
sententiously.
"If I do not decide to open a store here,"
continued Norton, " I must get away to
America where there will be more scope
and opportunity for a person in my position."
"Look here, mister," observed the other,
after reflecting for some time, "I have been
turning something over in my mind these last
few days, and if it should tit in with your ideas,
I see no reason why it cannot be put into
practice. I told you what my business was, I
think, but I did not inform you the purpose of
my journey to these parts."
Norton nodded his head to signify that this
was correct.
" Well, then I'll tell you what brought me
here. I have come to dismiss some of the
fellows looking after my business, and I
am now open to engage a managing man, an
honest, careful, steady party, who will look after
my interests in the future, and relieve me of all
anxiety and bother about this part of my
business. Would I be wrong, young man, ta
oflfer you such a position?"
122
The other shook his head diffidently, and
replied, " I have no experience or knowledge of
the duties whatever, Mr. Meyrick."
" That can be easily settled if other things are
satisfactory, " said the elder man, again casting
a suspicious and penetrating look at him; "I
can make the duties as clear as the noonday
sun, and as simple as eating and drinking. I
confess I have taken a liking to you, mister ;
I can see you are shrewd and sensible enough
to know when your bread is buttered. Now
the man I want must be a sort of automatic
figure ; he must move, act, and think only when
I touch the springs, he must forget, as all good
and proper servants should, his own personal
interests and ambitions, and render himself
mind and body to the service of his employer."
Here the speaker paused for a few seconds
looking at the same time steadily at the
listener.
"Again," he proceeded, "the man I want
must have firmness of character and deter-
mination of will. He must be tainted with none
of that maudlin sentimentality which is becoming
such a nuisance and danger in England at the
present day, I think you will understand what
I refer to here. It is nothing but robbery,
injustice, and vengeance under the garb of
religion and humanity. Pshaw ! the inter-
meddling fools and humbugs that have raised
this agitation are only committing an injury on
the race they pretend to benefit. But I will say
no more on this head now. My advice to you
is to leave religion and all that sort of thing
behind you in England. It is well enough there
where people can practice it, but out here, in
these barbarous regions, it is at a discount,
and no one ever bothers his head about it. Now
the position I refer to is one of great confidence
and authority ; in my absence there is no one to
gainsay your orders, and you will be made
acquainted with all the inner workings and
secrets of my business. It may appear strange
that I should oft'er such a position to a compara-
tive stranger, but, never mind that, 1 have a
way of my own in doing these things, and, as I
123
just said a while ago, I have taken a liking to
you. Now as to references in Liverpool — these
of course I can inquire into on my return — but
what is to be done about the security I shall
require ? Don't interrupt me, mister, I shall
have finished in a moment. You say you have
only two or three hundred pounds. Well, under
the circumstances I shall be willing to accept
that as a guarantee for your conduct while in
my service. There will be an agreement drawn
up between us, specifying your duties, and the
salary I am prepared to give, and everything
shall be lawfully done to protect either of us in
the event of one of the party failing to carry
out the terms of the agreement. Now I have
done. Let me hear what you have to say on the
subject?"
Norton, who was inclined to treat the proposal
as a joke at first, now began to take a more
serious and practical view of it, not however
with the intention of entering the service of Mr,
Meyrick. A happy thought had occurred to
Mm. If he could get his would-be master to
give him a few weeks to consider the proposal,
he would be enabled to utilize the interval by
making such inquiries and investigations into
the slave trafiic as would be of invaluable assist-
ance to him in the fulfilment of the mission upon
which he had come. There could be no doubt
that, as the friend and possible servant of the
merchant, he would be permitted to see the inner
workings and details of the system, which as a
stranger and new comer would be carefully and
pertinaciously hidden from him. Therefore,
without binding himself to anything positive in
the future, he determined to make a bold stroke
by attempting to carry out this idea.
" Your kind offer is so unexpected, Mr.
Meyrick, that I am at a loss to know how to
answer it," said he. "If, however, you would give
me a few weeks to consider I should be able to
give you a definite answer."
" A few weeks — humph ! Let me know exactly
how long it will take you to make up your
mind?"
" Well, a month would be amply sufiicient. I
124
should like to look about me a little, learn
something of the duties that will be required of
me, and see the ellect of the climate upon my
constitution before entering into any permanent
engagement."
" Very well, a month then be it," replied the
other, "I have a party coming here from Liver-
pool to fill the post, but I would rather give it
to you for certain reasons that have occurred
to me. I'll tell some of those fellows yonder
(pointing shoreward) to take you in hand, and
show you over the place."
The day following this interview the two pas-
sengers and some sailors got into one of the
boats, and pulled towards the shores of the dark
Continent. The moment Norton's foot toviched
land a strange and unaccountable feeling of
sadness and dejection took possession of him.
It was not produced by anything that met his
view just then, for at the spot where they
landed there was nothing but sand and shingle
to be seen. But, no doubt, the terrible crimes
that were being committed in this land, under
the name of commerce and through the agency
of English money, appealed to the better n«'ture
of a humane and high spirited man, and made
him feel sad and humiliated over the leading
part which his own liberty loving countrymen
were taking in the demoralizing business.
Shortly after landing they proceeded some dis-
tance up the beach and came to an irregu-
lar group of wooden huts, and a few
roughly constructed stone buildings, and
several covered sheds or slave-pens j where
every evidence of the trade carried on was
unmistakably apparent. There were few of
the manacled negroes to be seen at the time, but
this was owing to a great scarcity of the supply
just then, and to the fact that some of the
vessels standing oflf the coast had just received
their cargoes.
The merchant beckoned to a sort of nonde-
script individual who appeared to be lounging
about, and after giving him some confidential
instructions in an undertone, he commended him
to his fellow-passenger, Norton, telhng the
125
latter that this man would show him over the
neighbourhood, and enlighten him to some
extent on several of the duties connected with
the subject of their last night's conversation.
When Norton and bis new guide were left alone,
the former was somewhat astonished to find him-
self addressed in the following manner: —
" It is evident you do not recognise me, Mr.
Norton."
That gentleman looked very hard at the
speaker for a moment, and then confessed his
inability to remember having seen him before.
" Can you see no trace of Harry Johnson in
the individual before you ? " said the man look-
ing him straight in the face.
"Bless my soul! can it be possible,"
exclaimed Morton, thoroughly amazed. "I
should never have recognised you, Johnson, if
you had not called my attention to it. What a
metamorphosis to be sure !
" Ah, it's a miracle that I am alive at all, sir ;
few men would have gone through what I have
and be now standing before you."
" Yes, I can see you have had a rough time of
it," remarked the other, noticing his injured
leg and a great scar traversing his face. " But
what in the world induced you to leave the
more respectable branches of the service for
such a ulace as this ? "
" Alas ! Mr. Norton, the old story— the
temptation, and company that surround the
unfortunate sailor when ashore. I fell into the
power of the crimps, and had to sign articles for
a voyage on board a slaver to this God- forsaken
place."
" You indeed surprise me, Johnson ; I thought
you the last person in the world to be guilty of
such imprudence."
" Ay, ay, sir, but it was not altogether impru-
dence in my case; I was the victim of that
system of kidnapping sailors which is largely
practised by the Liverpool merchants; you
perhaps know what I mean ? "
Norton shook his head, signifying ignorance
on the point, and the other proceeded to explain
it more fully.
]26
"You see, sir, all the merchants connected
with this trade have a number of subsidized
coflee-houses in Liverpool. Coflfee-houses
forsooth! it would be more correct to call them
drinking dens and haunts of debauchery. Well,
when a sailor is paid oft' he is induced, by
fellows in the merchant's employ, to put up at
one of these places for board and lodging.
While there, he is continually thrown into the
company of these rascals, who spend heaps of
money in drink and harum-scarum living, and,
as a natural consequence, induce the poor Jack
Tar to spend his hard-earned money in return.
This goes on for some time until the sailor's
funds become exhausted, and then he falls
gradually into the trap prepared for him — he
becomes indebted to the landlord of the coffee-
house. When this point has been reached he is
rudely made aware of the position in which he
stands: he is threatened with immediate im-
prisonment for debt or the alternative to take
service in a Guineaman that is in want of hands.
You are doubtless p.ware that no ordinary
seaman would dream of joining the crew of one
of those vessels. The tenible privations and
severities they would have to undergo, and the
belief that they would never again return to
England make the most venturesome of them
hesitate before shipping in a slaver. I can
speak from experience, and I honestly confess
that all the blood-curdling stories of the sailors
have fallen far short of the terrible atrocities
that I have witnessed with my own eyes.
Indeed, what I have seen and know of this trade
has almost eradicated any faith I had in the
immortal instincts of man ; I begin to look upon
the whole human species as more closely allied
to the ravening beast of prey than your
philosophers or theologians would be willing to
admit."
" That is a very sad conclusion to come to,
Johnson, but no doubt your surroundings here,
and the misfortunes and sufterings you have en-
countered embitter your mind against certain
individuals. 1 am very sorry for your present
position, when I remember the education you
127
have received, and the bright prospects that were
once before you."
" Ah ! if I dared tell you all that I have seen
you would readily acknowledge the great reason
I have for comiHg to that conclusion. "
" Dare ! why, what is there to be afraid of,
Johnson .^" inquired the other, looking suddenly
at him.
" Well, Mr. Meyrick informs me that if your
health keeps right you are certain to be our
next overseer here. In the heat of the subject
I quite overlooked that fact, so you will forgive
me if I have said anything to annoy or displease
you."
Norton smiled to himself at this, but still
determined neither to deny nor confirm the state-
ment until he became better acquainted with the
present character of his former friend.
" Would you like to see me installed here as
manager or overseer ? " interrogated he with an
inquisitive look at his companion.
The man's eyes flashed fire, and his brow be-
came overcast at once.
" No, sir, I would not, and that is the plain
truth."
" And why, pray ? Would I not be as lenient
and forbearing as the general run of such fel-
lows ?"
*' You mistake me, Mr. Norton, it is for quite
a difierent reason altogether. A gentleman like
you to become the servant of — of — by heavens I
cannot keep it in, if I was to be hanged for it I'll
tell the truth — of one of the most brutal and
miserly wretches that walks on the face of the
earth. Yes, I mean that dark-browed, tyrannical
slave merchant who has just left us. Surely
you do not know the character of the man or
you would never condescend to exchange words
with him, much less to demean yourself by enter-
ing his service. But what am I saying, perhaps
like myself you have fallen into the hands of the
crimps, or, worse luck, some disaster in money
matters has driven you to this."
James Norton quickly seized the other's hand,
and then said,
" I thank you for what you say, Johnson. I
128
have no intention of entering the employment
of the person you name, in fact, I have come
out here on a very different errand. But for
the present we'll say no more about it."
" I understand, sir, mum is the word. I would
not wish the bitterest enemy I have to be under
the authority of that detestable old villain. You
see this broken leg, and this scar across my face,
and my strangely altered and emaciated appear-
ance ? Well, i have to thank that fellow and his
brutal myrmidons for these, and for all that has
happened to me during the last five years. When
you last saw me in Liverpool I was strong,
healthy, and vigorous, but look at me now. Did
you ever see such a human wreck in all your
life ? Ah ! I can see the answer you would
give in your eyes. I am only one out of thou-
sands that the respectable Liverpool merchants
decoy into their coffee houses, and ship out here
to meet a similar or even worse fate than mine."
" I heard something before about this practice,"
remarked Norton, " but I never knew it was
carried on in such a wholesale manner."
"Because they take good care the poor
sailor shall never return to tell the tale. The
captains, mates, and doctors are in league with
the traders in keeping the general public from
knowing the real facts. What with the agitation
at present going on against the trade,aud the high
rate of wages which these fellows receive, it
would be manifestly against their interests to
let the workings of the system be brought to
lifht. The sailors are positively starved and
tortured on the passage out; so when the
vessel reaches Jamaica, Antigua or any of the
islands, they are only too glad to find an oppor-
tunity of deserting the ship, and all their hard
earned wages as a consequence goes into the
pockets of the traders and captains. There is
wonderful method in the whole proceedings ; by
starving and overworking the sailors the
expenses of the trip are kept down, by forcing
them through ill usage to desert, their wages
go to increase the profits on the cargo, and
also to remove any tell-tale witnesses of the
brutality practised towards the unfortunate
129
But what can you expect from
natures familiarized with the inhuman associa-
tions of the slave trade ! Look here, Mr.
Norton, if that trade is allowed to continue
much longer, the fellows that are connected
with it will become transformed into the
fabled monsters that are written of in ancient
books, and even now, in my opinion, there is
no monster ancient or modern that can compare
with that cold hearted, feelingless villain, who
has been the means of wrecking my life, and
leaving me for the rest of my days without
home, happiness, or comfort of any kind. But
wait — he that laughs last, laughs best — my turn
has yet to come."
At tliis moment our two friends came upon a
knot of black brokers and Europeans earnestly
discussing some subject of evident interest to
them. They turned at once on seeing the new-
comer in company with Johnson, and exchanged
several meaning and sinister glances amongst
themselves. Strange rumours were being
bruited abroad about the probable abolition of
their trade, and the appearance of a new face
among them, gave rise to all manner of sus-
picion and uneasiness. They had no reason to
suspect or doubt Johnson s character, but they
were somewhat disturbed at the personal
appearance of the stranger, and the sad and
sympathetic expression which his face betrayed.
He was altogether a different class of marl to
what they were accustomed to meet with in
those parts. With the cunning and shrewdness
of quick witted, ignorant men they were seldom
mistaken in summing up the character of
a stranger, and the impression which
Norton's conveyed was anything but
satisfactory to them. The power which
the trades exercised on the coast of Guinea
was something similar to that which the East
India Company wielded over our Asiatic pos-
sessions at an early stage of their existence.
There was no one to dispute their authority ;
and the occasional visit of a ship of war, with
the formal inquiries of the officers sent ashore,
gave them little uneasiness or apprehension. It
130
will, therefore, be seen that the errand upon
which Norton had come was surrounded with
considerable risk and danger. Woe to the
intruder who was discovered sailing under false
colours ; the entire community would rise like
one man, and quickly make an example of him.
When the two friends had been wandering
about the locality for some time, they at length
approached an ill-constructed wooden shanty
which was situated at some distance from the
village proper.
'• Yonder palatial dwelling belongs to a
notable character in these parts," said Johnson,
pointing out the shanty to his companion, " no
less a personage than his serene highness, Prince
Nemma-nemma.' '
" Indeed ; there do not appear many
vestiges of royalty about the miserable abode.
Where are his chieftains, spearmen, and
retainers ? "
" Oh, he is one of the discrowned and banished
potentates ; he has neither territory nor
followers now, but he is, nevertheless, a most
intelligent and noble fellow, yes, although he is
a black man and a heathen."
" You greatly interest me, " said the other ;
" I must make it a point of being introduced ta
this royal personage."
" You shall have that opportunity when we
reach the abode, that is, if his highness is at
home. In the meantime I'll give you a short
sketch of the tribe he belongs to, which may be
of use to you hereafter. The Fantees are an
intelligent and vigorous people inhabiting one
of the provinces on the coast. Their king, an
enlightened and powerful monarch, sets his face
against the slave trade, and wUl not permit any
of his subjects to be sold into slavery. When
the captain of a slaver happens to run short of
hands he invariably anchors off their coast, and
applies for a certain number of the tribe to take
the place of his missing crew. This request is
only complied with on one condition, and that
is, that none of the Fantees are to be removed
from the country. On the king receiving an
agreement to this effect, countersigned by the
131
English Governor, the people are allowed to go,
but not till then. The Fantees as a rule speak
English and sometimes French, with great
fluency, owing, in a great measure to the inter-
course they have with the Europeans that
frequent their coast. With regard to our prince
here, he is even more intelligent and civilized
than the general run of his countrymen. He
acts as our interpreter, and knows all the
gibberish spoken for miles around. But come,
we are at the royal residence now; let us next
see if his serene Highness is at home."
As soon as they reached the doorway of the
shanty, a t tU ascetic looking negro came forth,
and saluhed them with a respectful though
distant bow. Johnson at once introduced his
companion, intimating with a significant
nod to the prince that he was one of the
right sort ; whereupon the reserved and
cautious manner of the latter changed
immediately, and he made himself as
pleasant and agieeable to the visitor as it
was in his nature to be. It was evident that
the encomiums passed upon him by Johnson were
neither exaggerated nor undeserved, but still
there was something in the sternness of his
character, and the repeated expressions he made
use of that seemed to jar unpleasantly on the
mind of Norton. He appeared to be one of
those men of a single purpose, with all the efforts
of his mind concentrated on some object he had
in view, and exhibited no enthusiasm or interest
in anything else. In short he had the
mental grasp and penetration of a highly gifted
pagan, but not a spark of the humanizing influ-
ence which Christianity imparts.
After they ha<l talktd together for sometime,
the Dutch like figure of the merchant could be
seen approaching, and Johnson at once called
the black man's attention to the fact.
" Here is the great man himself coming to see
you, Nemma-nemma. He landed this morning,
and is taking his lounds to see everything is
going en all riglit. You must bow low when he
approaches, and kiss the ground three times
before attempting to address him,"
132
A haughty and disdainful frown was the
only reply to this, and Joliiison continued in the
same vein.
"You have often wished to see the mighty
white man in the flesh, you now have the satis-
faction of gratifying your curiosity. He is not
exactly a Hercules nor an Apollo in form and
symmetry, but he has an imperial he irt within his
breast — the heart of a Nero. Look at him as
he comes along with his swinging gait ; can you
not see the cringing mate, the brutal captain,
and the money grabbing trader, all rolled into
one."
Before, however, Meyrick had reached the
hut, the speaker notwithstanding his words
limped forward with agility to meet him. " I
want to see the black interpreter," said he, " is
that the fellow yonder ? ' '
"Yes, sir," rephed Johnson, " shall I call him
to you ? "
" No, never mind, as I have come so far I
may as well go the whole distance."
While the Fantee prince was being presented
to the merchant the latter surveyed him with a
keen and penetrating glance. It was believed
from the 'merchant's experience of his fellow
men that there were few who could equal him
in comprehending the character of a stranger,
but with regrad to the individual before him his
knowledge of human nature afforded him no
assistance iti forming an opinion. Standing
erect and imperturbable the Fantee appeared
more like a piece of mechanism than a
human being. With a command of his feelings
that the Stoics would have envied, he with-
stood the severest scrutiny of the other. At
length, somewhat doubtful and perplexed, the
merchant withdrew his glance, and directed
Nemma-nemma to proceed at once to his office,
as he wanted to confer with him. Then turning
towards Norton, he said — " Well, what do you
think of these quarters, mister ? you will find
things very different here to what you have been
ac iustomed to in England. T hope Johnson is
doing what he can to show and explain every-
thing to you ? "
133
" Oh, yes, he is endeavouring to cram what
he can into my head during the short time we
have been together."
" That's right, that's right. I want you to see
all that is going on about the place, you will
soon fall into the ways after being here a few
weeks. I am sending a party up the country to-
morrow — would you like to join it ?"
" Thank you, nothing would give me greater
pleasure," said Norton.
" Very well, I will give instructions for you to
go. The supply of slaves is running short in
this locality, and I have three ships lying out
yonder waiting for cargo. I must tind slaves for
them at any cost, so I am sending out an
expeditionary party for the purpose."
Here he dismissed Johnson about his business
and asked Norton to accompany him back to the
office.
" When I have finished with the black inter-
preter, I will show you over my warehouses,
and instruct you in the various articles of
merchandise I import here. You must never
make too free with the fellows hereabouts, you will
have to play the tyrant with them by and bye.
No man can ever rule his fellow men without
first making them afraid of him."
And so conversing together they both pro-
ceeded slowly in the direction of the place
mentioned.
CHAPTER n.
Next morning the men selected for the expedi-
tion were early afoot, making preparations for
their journey inland. They consisted of black
brokers and traders with samples of English
merchandize, Europeans who represented the
owners of the vessels lying oft" the coast, and
several sinister and Herculean natives who were
specially retained to look after the slaves and
have them expeditiously conveyed to the coast.
Norton und the Fantee Prince took their places
134
amongst this motley company, the former
pleased at the opportmiity afforded him of being
an eye witness to the dealings contemplated, and
the latter appointed for the purpose of acting as
interpreter between the English merchants and
the chieftains in the interior, Meyrick was pre-
sent himself, superintending all the preparations,
and giving instructions to the leaders of the
party as to how they were to act, and the value
to be offered in barter for the slaves captured .
When everything was got in readiness, and
the party at length started on their journey, the
old merchant retired to his private office, well
pleased with the completeness of his plans and
the manner in which the whole thing had been
carried out. Singular to say, he was in a
wonderfully good temper this morning. The mail
bad just arrived from England, bringing him a
large number of letters and despatches, and these
were evidently of a most agreeable and satis-
factory nature. It was a phenomenon to see
this stern-visaged man smile, but sure enough
he smiled and laughed and cracked an occasional
joke this morning, and altogether conducted
himself in such a manner as to puzzle
and astonish his employees. The fact was be
had just received a letter from his son Walter,
the pride of his heart and the apple of his eye,
and the only living being who had any place in
the affections and thoughts of his hardened and
exclusive nature. All the wishes of his heart
and the efforts of his mind were centred in this
young man, and the niggard hand that clutched
closely the purse strings was freely opened to
supply his every want, and to gratify his most
capricious fancies and desires. He alone was
the recipient of all that proceeded fi'om the
better qualities of his parent ; no expense had
been spared to give him the best education that
could be acquired, and to afford him every
opportunity of associating with the higher and
elite classes in England. He had just completed
his course of studies at Cambridge, where he
distinguished himself by carrying oft' several
prizes, and it was now his intention,
by way of putting the finishing touch to
135
his education, to enter on a round
of travel through Europe. All this was set
forth in the letter he had written to his father.
That gentleman, notwithstanding the great
expense it would entail, saw no reason to oppose
his son's wishes, especially as it was considered
a sine qua non to the completeness of his educa-
tion, and in accordance with the established
practice of the better class of young gentlemen
of the day. But what seemed to tickle him
more than anything else was a request which
his son had made. It was a most singular
request, and showed the ambitious aims and
love of noteriety which animated young Walter.
It pleased and amused the merchant immensely,
and made him laugh and chuckle to himself
over its novelty and originality. The fact was
he asked his father to send him home to
England an intelligent, full grown negro, the
best looking that could be procured, so that he
might dress him up, instruct him in certain
necessary duties, and appoint him to the posi-
tion of body servant to accompany him in his
travels through Europe. "Only imagine,"
wrote he, "the sensation it will cause to have a
servant of this sort attending on me, the great
interest and eclat it will confer, and the effect
it will produce towards disproving all that
arrant nonsense and humbug that these humani-
tarians are saying about the cruelties and
barbarities of the slave traffic. Here will be
a bond fide negro, well-dressed, well-fed, and
warmly attached to the son of a slave merchant.
Could anything be better conceived to take
the wind out of the sails of the anti-slavery
societies ? Indeed, if I had my way, I'd make
every gentleman in England have a nigger for
a body servant ; that would do more to protect
the Guinea trade from interference than all the
money and influence that could be brought
forward in its defence. Be sure to send the
nigger by the first ship sailing for Liverpool ;
I will rely on you choosing a good, strong, well-
made fellow for me."
William Meyrick read this letter over repeat-
edly, and seemed more and more taken up with
136
the idea the of tenet he pondered over it. At
length he gave orders that Johnson was to be
brought to him imraediatel3^ This man was a
sort of confidential servant of his, he took a
kind of pity on him, owing to his injured health
and broken leg, and allowed him a small salary
for doing any light work about the place. He
was well aware as to the origin of Johnson's
injuries and had health, but he flattered him-
self that any hand he had in bringing them
about was entirely unknown to the other.
Therefore, he occasionally took him into his
confidence, and endeavoured to inspire him
with a feeling of gratitude and fidelity in return
for the kindness and indulgence which he
showed him.
When Johnson presented himself at the ofiice,
the old merchant was still smiling as pleasantly
as he could, and holding his son's letter open in
his hand.
'•'Look here, Johnson," said he, "I want to
have a talk with you ; there is no man better
fitted than yourself to give me advice in this
matter. I have just had a letter from my son
Walter ; you have often heard me speak of him ;
and what do you think he wants me to do ? Why,
nothing less than to send him a negro over to
England, He wants to dress him up, instruct
him, and make him his principal man in atten-
dance. "
" And a very good idea too, sir," remarked
Johnson, entering at once into the spirit of the
thing ; " we have plenty of fellows here who
would only be delighted to jump at the chance
of going."
"Yes, yes, it is a capital idea, Johnson; just
such a one as Walter would be sure to hit upon.
He is full of the most original and novel fancies,
and what is more there is always something
useful and practical at the bottom of them. To
be sure he is a great scholar, and full of book
learning, and that sort of thing. He is
going to travel abroad a good deal, and wants to
take the black servant along with him. Now, I
want you to assist me in selecting a good man
for the purpose ; and we can send the negro ofi
137
by tlie first ship sailing for England. You are
a good judge of these black fellows, and the
most likely party to hit upon the one that will
suit him. But mind, I want the whole affair
kept a secret, we can smuggle the fellow on
board at night time, and no one will be the
wiser of what has happened."
Johnson at once agreed to do what his master
desired, and then the merchant opened the
letter again, and for the twentieth time began
chuckling over it to himself.
After waiting to see if he was wanted for
anything else, the man was just about to leave
the olfice wJien the other requested him to
remain where he was, as he wished to ask him a
few questions about another matter.
At last Meyrick folded the letter up, placed
it away carefully in his pocket, and then the
normal expression of shrewdness and cunning
returned to his strongly marked features.
"I want your opini>in Johnson of the gentle-
man who arrived here yesterday — I mean, of
course, Mr. Norton ? "
" He seems right enough, sir," replied the
man, " about as good as the general run of such
fellows."
" I received a letter from Liverpool which
makes me feel uneasy and dubious regarding
him. I want you to keep your eye on him in
the futm'e, tell me everything he does, and
what he says about the business carried on
here. Ingratiate yourself into his confidence,
and find out for me the real motive he had in
coming to this place. I will reward you well for
all that you do in this matter."
Johnson nodded his head, but did not say
anything.
"It was a mistake in allowing him to join the
party this morning," continued the merchant,
"but when I received the letter it was too late
to interfere." He, however, added under his
breath, " If I was only certain of my suspicions,
I would take good care that he did not return to
this place again."
During this conversation the old man kept his
eyes fixed steadily on the other, as if to fathom
138
the thoughts that were passing through his
mind, and to satisfy himself that he was not
mistaken in the contidence he reposed in him.
" I will make your position here more com-
fortable and remunerative if you attend to this
little business with cautiin nndintelhgence. Of
course you understand that everything I say is
a profound secret. Now, you can go, and think
the matter over; arran<;e in your own mind the
best and safest means of carrying it out."
For a week or ten days after this, Johnson
had the life of a gentleman in the merchant's
service. His wages were largely increased, and
the duties allotted to him were of the most simple
and matter of form kind. When batches of
slaves came in now and then he was supposed to
look them over, and see if he could select one
for the purpose mentioned. One day a courier
arrived from the expeditionary party with infor-
mation that there was a large body of slaves on
their way towards the coast. Johnson, therefore,
deemed it advisable to await the arrival of this
body before he finally decided upon making his
choice.
In the meantime, Norton had a good op-
portunity of witnessing one of the methods
of procuring slaves when a scarcity in
the market occurred, or the bribes of the
English traders were more temjiting than
usual. This was a very simple and effective
method, and there was little risk or bloodshed
attending it. A certain village whs selected,
where the inhabitants were known to be inoffen-
sive, industrious, and at peace with all the
neighbouring tribes. This place was secretly
surrounded at night time, the whole of the
dwellings suddenly set on fire, and when the
startled villagers attempted to escape they were
summarily captured by the ruffi-ins who lay in
wait for them. There was lit ile time then lost
in chaining the more stalwart and obstreperous
males together, in huddling the females and
children into a group in the centre, and starting
the whole lot off like a flock of sheep or a herd
of cattle for the scene of their barter, oftentimes
several hundred miles distant.
139
It was with feelings of the greatest hon-or and
amazement that Norton witnessed these das-
tardly proceedings. He could not interfere
without raising a suspicion in the minds of his
companions ; so he was compelled to act the
part of the silent spectator through all the
scenes of this terrible drama. iJuring the
journey back he managed to keep in company
with the Fantee Prince, and they both spoke
openly and unreservedly of the inhuman scenes
which they had just been witnessing. There
could be no doubt as to the black man's sympa-
thies in the matter, and Norton learned to
respect and admire his character from the feel-
ings of indignation and anger he displayed
on the occasion. The rest of the party and the
captives were some hours march in advance of
them, so they were at liberty to unbosom them-
selves to the fullest extent, and discuss the
dangerous subject of slavery without fear of
consequences. On many occasions when the
Englishman had gained an elevated point on the
route he would pause for some time looking at
the tropical scenery around him,and taking note
of anything special or interesting that was pre-
sented to his view. Every time he did this his
eyes were attracted by a dark object in the
distance, which appeared to follow them with a
dogged and untiring persistency. When the
country was hilly or overgrown with long grass
and bushwood the object seemed to be always
closer to them, but, on the other hand, when a
sealike waste of sand intervened it could be barely
discernible on the line of the distant horizon.
It also struck him as singular that, everytime he
turned to make his survey, there was a palpable
movement on the part of this object to escape
his notice. For some time he refrained from
calling his companion's atteuion to it, thinking
that perhajjs it was owing to some imperfection
in his vision, > r some solitary animal that was
attracted or disturbed by the sound of their
voices. However, when their journey was near
to its end, he happened to turn suddenly around
to take a last look at the scenery behind them,
when he distinctly saw the figure of a negro, as
140
he thought, endeavouriug to screen himself from
view behind a mimosa bush in their track. He
quickly informed the Fan tee of what he had
seen, and they both returned immediately to
the bush mentioned. When they reached the
spot, there, sure enough, was the figure of a
person crouching; a sickly emaciated negress,
treinbling with fear and terror, and looking
upwards at them with a supplicating expression
of fear that was pitiful to behold. There was a
scanty covering tlirown over her thin and
almost fleshless frame, and her hands and feet
were torn and bleeding from the thorns and
tangled bush wood she had encountered on her
way. It was plainly evident to both of them
that she was almost fainting with hunger and
fatigue ; so Norton immediately drew forth some
biscuits and a flask which he c:irried
and proffered them kindly to her. She
seized the biscuits and ate them ravenously,
but declined to put the flask to her lips. When
questioned by the Fantee she told a sad and
deplorable story of the object of her pursuit. It
appears she had followed them since the night of
the attack on the village. She had an only child,a
youth about ten years old, who had been cap-
tured and carried off with the other villagers
and she wanted to find out where he was taken
to, so that she might be enabled to see him again,
and remain in the neighbourhood during the
short time she had to live. With the exception
of this child she was quite alone in the world. All
her friends and connections had gone to the land
of the Great Spirit. Oh ! it was hard, cruelly
hard, to have her only child torn from her. But
she would tell the mighty white man her story,
and he would take pity on her, and return the
little boy to her arms.
The Fantee explained that the poor negress
was left behind because she was sickly, and there-
fore of no value in the eyes of the white traders.
It took the strongest and most healthy negro to
stand the trying " Middle passage," as the voyage
from Guinea to the West Indies was called, so
the dealers were careful only to ship the most
robust and sound that could be procured.
141
After doing what they could to minister to
the poor black woman's wants, Norton gave a
promise to interest himself in her behalf, and use
his influence to obtain the release of her child.
On this being interpretel to hvr she shed tears of
gratitude and delight, and threw herself pros-
trate on the ground at his feet.
This incident occupied a considerable portion
of their time, so there being no chance of over-
taking the main body of the party they deter-
mined to travel the rest of the journey at their
leisure, and give the poor enfeebled negress an
opportunity of keeping them in view. Towards
the close of the following day their journey came
to an end. Norton on arriving at the place was
surprised and dismayed to find no trace of any of
the slaves about, and on enquiring the reason
from one of the brokers he learned that every
cue of them had been sent on board that day.
There was, therefore, no time to be lost if he
intended keeping his promise to the negress.
Going at once to the ofhce where old Meyrick
was generally to be found, he met Johnson on
the way with a bundle under his arm, and accom-
panied by a well-favoured negro, who was smiling
pleasantly at the good fortune that had befallen
him. Without stopping to speak, Norton entered
the rudely constructed edifice, which did duty
in those parts as the business seat of the slave
merchant.
William Meyrick was seated with one
of his captains, smoking a cigar, and
discussing the pros and cons of the business
that had been transacted that day. He
appeared well satisfied with what had taken
place, and looked in the best of spirits when
Norton entered the office. On recognising
that gentleman, however, a certain shadow
passed over his brow, and he became all at once
reserved and collected in his manner. Bowing
his head slightly forward he appeared to be
revolving something in his mind that had only
just then occurred to him.
"Can you spare me a few moments, Mr.
Meyrick?" said Norton, after waiting for an
opportunity to catch his eye, " I want to ask
142
a favour of you, and there is no time to be
lost"
The other looked up with an air of astonish-
ment, and remarking that there was no secrets
between the captain and himself, signified
that he was at liberty to hear what the other
had to say.
" There is a poor negress outside," continued
Norton, " who has followed us all the way from
the village where the slaves were captured.
Her only child, a little lad of ten years old, is
among the captives brought in here to-day. I
promised to use my influence to obtain his
release for her and I feel certain if you saw the
wretched mother and heard her heartrending
story, you would instantly give instructions to
have the youth restored to her. She is now
waiting outside, would you like to see her your-
self, Mr. Meyrick ?"
The merchant nudged his companion, the
captain, and smiled grimly at the earnest
manner of the speaker. He then shook his
head seriously, and said,
" We never interfere in these cases, mister ;
you should have made your request to the black
chieftains up the country ; shouldn't he,
skipper ?"
"Ay, ay, sir," replied his companion, after
emitting a great cloud of smoke from his
mouth.
" But the child is in your possession now,
and you can do what you like with him,"
persisted Norton."
" Too late, mister, it is beyond my power to
do anything. He is now aboard a schooner
that is about to weigh anchor, isn't that so,
skipper?"
" Ay, ay, sir, she'll be on her way by this
time. "
"I will buy the child if you let me ; give
any reasonable price for him. You can then
write me a note to the captain, and I will find
means to reach the schooner before she gets too
far out."
" Couldn't be thought of, mister, against all
the rules and regulations of the trade. If we
143
released one of those niggers, all the aged,
decrepit, and sickly would be flocking to the
coast and kicking up a rumpus to have their
relatives set free. It's a bad precedent to
establish, and no man in his senses would think
of doing so; would he, skipper?"
" Certainly not, sir; certainly not, too much
of a good thing for these parts."
" You owe me some return, Mr. Meyrick,
for a little service I did you once," said Norton,
beginning to feel uneasy for his client, " I shall
be amply repaid if you deviate from your
customary rules in this instance. I need
scarcely say that I will take precautionary
measures to keep the whole aflfair a secret, and I
am certain this poor woman will do her best to
aid me in that respect."
The merchant nudged his seafaring neighbour
again, and then answered with a cunning leer,
and a look of suspicion and inquiry in his eyes.
" You seem to take as much interest in this
matter as one of those anti-slavery fellows at
home. Let me tell you, mister, that your
sympathies are altogether misplaced. The
young fellow will be well cared for, and taught
to work for a living where he is going, a very
ditierent thing than to be wandering about like
a wild beast in his own country — isn't that the
case, skipper?"
" Never uttered a truer word in your life," re-
marked that individual.
" But you seem to overlook the poor mother's
feelings altogether," returned the other, " surely
a parent's sorrow and desolation under the cir-
cumstances will find an entrance to your heart,
Mr. Meyrick. I never knew a worthier case for
sympathy and commiseration. Do not refuse me
this request, and you will be rewarded a hundred
fold in your own family. There is One above
who never overlooks a kind or humane act,and He
holds the future of every one of us in the hollow
of His hand. Listen for this once to the better
promptings of your nature, and do not hesitate
to perform a Christian and merciful act."
" You are more concerned about that lying
black woman's story than about a knowledge of
144
my business, which I sent you up the country to
get an insiglic into. Let me tell you, mister,
that this looks veiy bad as a beginning, especially
in a man who is intended to take my place —
doesn't it, skipper ?"
" Couldn't be worse, sir, just like what one of
those missionary fellows would do."
At this point Johnson entei-ed the office, and
at once engaged the attention of the merchant.
For some moments they whispered together
aside, and the latter seemed highly
pleased at something the other told
him. "Capital, capital, Johnson," said he,
tapping him familiarly on the shoulder,
" couldn't be done better. I will see you further
about it in the morning." When Johnson was
leaving the office he cast a sudden and peculiar
look at Norton, but that gentleman was too
much engrossed with his own thoughts to notice
it. He began to feel how fruitless and unavail-
ing were all his efforts in behalf of the poor
distracted wretch outside. How he was to move
the callous nature of old Meyrick he did not
know; and every moment lost increased the
difficulties of the situation. When the merchant
returned to his seat, Norton summoned courage
to make a last and more earnest appeal to his
feelings of humanity. He pictured the poor
woman's friendless and forlorn condition, her
maternal affections and anxieties regarding her
only child, and the sufferings and privations she
must have endured in her sickly state to have
followed them to that distant place. Could
there be a greater evidence of love and attach-
ment — a brighter example of a mother's natural
feelings than she displayed ? But all to no
piu'pose; he might as well have addressed a
bronze statue, or the heedless wind that swept
over the desert : The merchant was invulner-
able to all appeals of sym[iathy. At length
growing angry and indignant at the unfeeling
stolidity with which he was confronted, Norton
concluded the interview by breaking off all
connection with the business, and contemptuously
■declining the offer made him with regard to the
overseership.
145
"He! he! he!" laughed the other sarcasti-
cally at this ; " a darned nice sort of a superinten-
dant you would have made to be sure ; Look
here, mister, take my advice, and go back to
England as fast as you can ; for it strikes me that
the climate will never agree with you — what's
your opinion skipper ?"
"I wouldn't stand in his shoes for all the
gold I could stow in yonder schooner ; a white
man has no chance here when the climate is
asainst him."
Here the captain winked meaningly at his
employer, and JSortou bursting with rage and
indignation retired defiantly from their presence.
But the severest part of his task was yet to
come ; he had to acquaint the unfortunate
negress of the failure of liis efibrts. This was
the most trying and painful duty that could fall
to the lot of a kind hearted and sensitive man.
With gesticulations and dumb show he managed
to inform her that there was no possibility
of recovering her child, he pointed to Meyrick's
office, and shook his head despondently to ex-
plain his failure in that quarter, he pointed
towards the ships that were lying in the offing,
to indicate that her boy was there, and could
not be brought back to her. The poor
creature understood the fatal signs at once,
and started to her feet in a frenzy of despair
and anguish. For a moment she glanced
wildly about her, and then uttering a loud
and heart-piercing shriek, hurried quickly past
hirn towards the beach, as though the ocean
could not separate her from her child. He watched
her for a short time until she had reached the
water's edge ; then he could hear her loud and
unavailingcries, while she waved her arms fran-
tically above her head, sionalling her despair to
the still and motionless ships in the distance.
He could not bear to witness her distraction
longer, and with a sad and heavy heart he turned
aside, and hastened from the scene precipitately.
Next morning he wandered down to the shore,
anxious to know what had become of her. During
the night his thoughts and slumbers were
haunted with visions of her frantic despair and
146
desolation. Yes, sure enough she was still
there, stretched on the sandy beach with her
face downwards, and her hands clasped firmly
above her head. He approached to where she
was and spoke kindly to her, but she made no
movement. He touched her clenched hands and
bare shoulders gently, but they were damp and
chill, and seemed unconscious of his touch. He
stooped down and shook her form slightly, but
it was cold and rigid. The poor, friendless, child-
less, homeless creature was dead.
CHAPTER III.
It was fully a year after the incidents recorded
before William Meyrick returned from his visit
to the coast of Guinea. Several matters had
occurred to detain him there, the most import-
ant being the loss of two of his largest ships,
and the fatality that attended the cargoes of
slaves he imported to Antigua. It was his
custom never to insure a cargo of slaves — with
the intention, no doubt of making his profits the
larger — but from some cause or other all his late
sliipments were visited with sickness, and often-
times only half the complement taken on board
arrived at the port of consignment. Indeed, all
his business transactions during the last year
had been disastrous ; a persistent run of ill luck
seemed to follow everything he did, and the
gaunt spectre of poverty, already referred to,
was his constant companion on the homeward
passage. It will be taken for granted that these
misfortunes did not improve his temper, or exert
any softening influence in his selfish and
hardened nature. In no very amiable frame of
mind, he turned his steps after landing in the
direction of his counting house, situated in
Argyle-street. He had sent no notice before-
hand of his return, so he hoped to pay his clerks
a visit of surprise.
The clerks engaged to look after the business
of the office were three in number. There was
147
Arthur Penny, the cashier, a cripple, wtjio, as
some intimated, had received his appointment,
because it was out of the bounds of probability
that ho could run away with any of the money ;
there was Richard Grimes, the book-keeper, a
timid, nervous, seedy old gentleman, whose
whole lifetime had been spent amongst dusty
le-igers and account books, and whose chief
solicitude was to afford his master no opportunity
of sending him about his business, it being
a usual habit of the merchant's to keep his
employees in continual suspense by frequently
holding out threats of immediate dismissal;
and then there was the junior clerk, as he was
called, a young man named Leatherbarrow, who
was still serving a sort of apprenticeship to the
business, and whose parents in the country
imagined he was on the high road to commer-
cial prosperity, while he himself was under the
impression that he was undergoing a term of
seven years' penal servitude. Of course the
salaries received by these gentlemen were in
keeping with the economical system which
embraced every department of the merchant's
business.
On this particular morning, as ill-luck would
have it, the clerks were indulging in a little
harmless fun at the very moment that their
master thrust open the office door, and stood
before them. The cashier was perched on a
stool, mimicking, with his squeaky voice and
malformed limbs, the language and gestures of
some of the popular orators of the day ; Mr.
Grimes was leaning against his desk, smoking
a short black pipe, and laughing immoderately
at the other's performance: the junior clerk was
holding a glass of water above his head, while
he addressed his companions in a loud and
jovial voice — " JS'ow gents, here's to the absence
of old Meyrick ! may the niggers eat iiim up
boots and all before "
Had the building tumbled about their ears,
or a frightful earthquake suddenly yawned to
engulf them, their faces could not have
-expressed more surprise, terror, and consterna-
tion than the unexpected entrance of their
148
master produced. For a moment they gazed
vacantly and dumbfounded at him; they did
not attempt to move from their places, but
became mute and motionless as if they had
been there and then pertrified. The
dark and scowling visage confronting them
seemed to possess the property of the fabled
head of Medusa ; the cashier remained on his
stool, with his mouth open and his hand partially
raised ; the book-keeper kept his pipe in his
mouth ; the smoke in this instance only emerged
from the bowl ; the junior clerk still held the
glass aloft, while the sound of his last words
seemed to linger with a malicious persistency
about the place.
" Humph ! ha ! don't let me disturb you,
gentlemen," remarked the merchant, after cast-
ing a withering glance at them; "you are
evidently in want of a holiday, I will see what
can be done for you by-and-bye."
After this remark he passed through the office
into his private sanctum, aud banged the door
loudly after him. When he had read over some
of the correspondence that awaited his return,
he touched a small bell on his desk, and sum-
moned the cashier to his presence.
" Well, sir," said he, as soon as that indivi-
dual made his appearance, *' I am glad to say
that I understand your character at last. Stay, no
craving forgiveness or anything of that kind ; T
know too well what that sort of thing is worth. I
am a man of few words, and want as little time as
possible wasted in talk. You have forfeited my
confidence by what has occurred, and I have,
therefore, determined to put you on the footing
of a new beginner. From this day forth your
salary will be reduced to half what it is, and if
you have any objection to this, you can make
up your books, and leave my service at once. I
can get a well formed, healthy clerk to do the
duties of your place for that salary, and I see no
reason why I should be paying you double the
sum. You can go now, I have nothing further
to say. Tell that fellow Grimes that I want to
speak to him."
The stupified cripple shuffled nervously out of
149
the room, and shortly afterwards the door was
agiiin timidly opened, and the trembling and
terrified book-keeper stood before his master.
" He, he, he; you've been enjoying yourself,
Mr. Grimes, and very naturally too. The blood
sometimes gets overhot and wayward through
high living and indulgence in luxuries. I wish
it was my good fortune to possess the high spirits
and love of pleasure with which nature has gifted
you ; I could then thrust aside the duties
and responsibilities of business, and sit at my
desk smoking a pipe or cigar, and laughing loudly
at the most silly things that occurred. That
would be more agreeable than toilmg from year's
end to year's end, endeavouring to keep every-
thing straight, and finding constant employment
for those aDouc me. Would it not, Mr. Gnmes ?
Yes, to be sure it would. But then nature has
not so gifted me, and I muse be content to take
the consequences. I must work and toil, body
and mind, while others are at liberty to enjoy
themselves and grow sleek at my expense. Alas !
Mr. Grimes, the good things of this world are very
unequally divided."
The poor book-keeper thoroughly understood
the drift of this sarcasm, and his heart sank
within his breast as he foresaw the inevitable
result.
" Let me see, Mr. Grimes,'" continued the mer-
chant, in a somewhat more serious tone, " I told
you several times that i should be compelled to
make a change in tne office. How strange to
have foreseen it so long ago ! At all events it
will have afforded you time to prepare for a rainy
day. It is some consolation to know that, Mr.
Grimes, is it not ? "
" Will you allow me to say one word, sir," said
the clerk in an appealing voice. " I am thoroughly
grieved for what has happened, but I can pledge
my word that it is the first time anything of the
kind occurred. You will see by the books and
accounts in the office that nothing has been neg-
lected during your absence; indeed, for my
part, I was more assiduous and Careful than if
you were present."
" Hoity-toity, Mr. Grimes, you mistake me
150
altogether. Your little pleasantries in the oflBce
have nothing to do with what I am saying. I'he
truth is I have had a most disastrous year's trade;
two of my best ships at the buttom of the sea,
enormous money losses in all my Guinea ventures,
in fact everything is going to rack and ruin
about me. 1 must, therefore, discharge most of
my servants, reduce expenses at home and
abroad, and work my business in future with
fewer hands. Do you understand me now, Mr.
Grimes ? Very well,that is a point gained^you can
now make up your books within the next few
days, and also tell me what salary is due to you,
and then we shall part friends. 1 would rather
you did not say anything, Mr. Grimes ; I have
so little time to t.pare just now. fc'end young
Leatherbarrow in, 1 have something to say to
him."
The book-keeper retired from his master's
presence crestfallen and sad at heart, but he
knew it would be vain and fruitless to make any
attempt at altering the decision come to. The
miserable stipend he received was barely suffi-
cient to maintain himself and the aged partner
of his life. This was perfectly well under-
stood by Meyrick, notwithstanding his hints to
the contrary.
When the junior clerk entered the sanctum,
the merchant was busily engaged looking over
his letters, and therefore took no notice of him
for some time. The suspense and uncertainty
thus inflicted was the solitary punishment to
which his master intended subjecting him.
''What is your age, Leatherbarrow?" at
length he inquired, after putting the letters
aside, and looking at the young man with a
rather comical exjjression of face. The other
told him, and then he continued in a tolerant
tone of voice —
" Yes, yes, young folks will be young folks.
Some allowance should be made for them, but
none for thc>se who are old enough to know
better. Now listen to me, I am willing to pass
over what has happened, and return good for
evil by advancing your position in the office.
For the future you shall take charge of Grimes'
151
ledgers, and if you keep them correctly and to
my satisfaction, I will see about offering you a
suitable salary. Write and tell your parents
that I am pleased to give you this responsible
position, and I hope you will show your grati-
tude by industry and earnest attention to your
new duties. No thanks, please ; I will be well
satisfied if you exert yourself to justify the
confidence I place in you. That will do — 1 have
no time for further talk."
When Meyrick was left alone again, he
turned at once to his letters, and began
reading them over with a grave and occupied
look. Every other letter he opened
contained something to annoy and upset him.
The agents he had employed to buy his Man-
chester and Sheffield goods had given consider-
ably higher prices for them than he would have
done had he been at home. Again he was not
properly posted up as to the cost of these goods,
or he might have bartered them to better
advantage in his deahngs with the African
slave catchers. No attempt had been made to
buy up damaged and faulty merchandise, which
was quite good enough for the purpose of his
trade, and he had been parting with fine
genuine manufacture to those barbarous black
princes, when an article half its value would
have suited them just as well. Oh, it waa
monstrous ! the opportunity for netting a good
round sum was lost to him in consequence.
Everything that had happened during his absence
appeared to display the same mismanage-
ment and want of foresight. Even the captains
of his ships had received wrong directions, and
most of the goods imported had been sold on a
falling market. No one about him exhibited
the zeal and interest requisite to meet the
occasion. The arbitrary supervision which he
practised when at home told its tale upon his
employees when left to their own resources. These
things were, however, of little consideration
compared with what was to follow. The next
letter — a legal one — administered the
finishing blow to his disasters. A large planter
of Barbadoes, one of his heaviest debtors, had
152
become bankrupt, and his assets were almost
nil. For a moment this terrible news seemed
to suspend the beating of his heart, and throw
all his thoughts and calculations into utter
confusion. The sum of money, which this
failure represented, was fully a quarter of his
• entire capital, A tide of misfortune had set in
against him, and there was no knowing how or
when it would end. Overwhelmed and pros-
trated with this news, ho remained seated
at his desk for hours, a prej' to the most
startliniT apprehensions, and his mind
filled with all the gloomy forebodings that
were characteristic of his nature. When at
length he had somewhat recovered from the
shock, and saw all the unopened letters that were
still lying on his desk, a new and depressing fear
took possession of his heart. What story of
disaster and misfortune might not these contain ?
Would it be prudent to acquaint himself with
■^their contents now, or let them remain until he
became mentally and physically stronger ? lu
his then state of mind and nervous depression
he resolved to have recour.se to the latter ex-
pedient. He therefore put the letters away in
cne of the drawers, and seemed co breathe more
■freely when they were removed from his sight.
In doing so, however, he selecteil one from
amongst them, which he recognised as coming
from his son Walter. Even this correspondence
which he was accustomed to welcome with so
much joy and pleasure, seemed to affect him at
the moment with a singular presentiment of
danger and trouble. He must write to his son
immediitely, and tell him to forego his travels
for the present. He could not aflbrd the expense
of his living abroad any longer, he had been six
months on the continunr, and that sardy ought
to be .-sufficient for his purpose. These thoughts
passed through his mind as he drew the bulky
•epistle towards him, and broke the seal.
Dearest Dad, — T have taken advantage of
your good nature, and drawn a larger bill than
usual upon you, but it was out of my power to
avoid it, owing to the extravagant t-harges which
153
these foreigners are in the habit of making when-
ever an Englishman comes amongst them, i will
endeavour to be more circumspect in future, but
the society I am thrown amongst abroad, and the
fellow countrymen I meet in my travels often-
times force me into extravagances that I would
otherwise feel inclined to avoid. Every English-
man you meet here is either a lord or a million-
aire, and if you wish to enjoy their society you
must be equally liberal in spending your money.
It will be to my advantage hereafter to form
connections of this kind, so, as you would say
yourself, I am only investing my money at good
interest, it will all come back again considerably
augmented. So much for the business part of
my letter, now for the mysterious and interest-
ing.
You remember the negro that you sent me a
year ago ? Well, it's about that individual lam
now going to write. When you have read this
letter through I dare swear you will be [equally
mystified with myself in forming an opinion of
the singularly strange character that you hit
upon sending me.
On his first appearance in Liverpool I was
favourably impressed by his keen intelligence,
the modified type of his negro features, and the
general manner in which he conducted himself
before strangers. I was also surprised to
find that he spoke English remarkably well. I
had liim dressed in clothes befitting the station
for which I intended him, and spent a few hours
each day in coaching him in the duties he would
have to perform. He was an apt scholar, seemed
to understand almost instinctively everything I
told him,aud soon became sufficiently enlightened
to take the part of the most sagacious and intel-
ligent attendant. There was a certain hauteur
and stiffness in all that he did, but this I set
down to the ineradicable habits of his nation.
He was obeditrint, willing, and respectful, and
that was amply sufficient for me.
The first few months of my travels were chiefly
spent in Switzerland. I happened to meet with
aFrench artist there,a most agreeable and pleasant
companion, with whom I spent the greater part
154
of the evenings, conversing in French, and avail-
ing myself of that opportunity to improve my
pronunciation. What was my surprise one day
shortly after the departure of my friend, to find
that the black servant was tolerably conversant
with the French language. Surely he could not
have learned it from what he had heard passing
between the artist and myself, and yet, as far
as I could judge, he had no other means of ac-
quiring his knowledge. You told me in the
letter you sent at the time that the negro being
shipped to Liverpool was young, healthy, and
good looking, but would require a considerable
amount of training before he could be trusted to
fill the position for which I wanted him. Now
the individual at present in my service is a very
different character to that which your letter bid
me to suppose. In the first place he is
not young, rather middle - aged I should
say. He is healthy and good look-
ing enough for one of his race, but, contrary to
your anticipations, he required scarcely "any
training whatever ; in fact he seemed as much at
home with the usages and customs of civilized
life, as if he had been to the manner born. Has
there been a mistake made at the last moment?
or were you trying to play off some joke on me
by sending tliis singularly intelligent and
superior person instead of one of those wild and
uncouth savages usually sold into slavery ?
However, I am not going to complain of the
mistake made — but there are many traits in his
conduct and character which fill me with doubt
and suspicion, and I would like, if it were
possible, that you would enhghten me a little
as to his antecedents in your next letter.
One day, as we were climbing one of the
Swiss mountains, we had to traverse a causeway
which ran along the edge of a dizzy precipice ;
a sheer descent of rock some three to four
hundred feet in depth. Our guide had left us
some distance behind, as we loitered now and
then to have a good view of the sublime scenery
that surrounded us. As I stood for a moment
on the brink of this vast abyss, craning my neck
forward to measure its depth with my eyes, the
155
black attendant came close behind me, and
uttered these starthng words into my ear —
** Would it kill your father if you happened to
overbalance yourself, and be hurled to the
bottom of that great gulf P"
I started nervously back, and glanced
wonderingly at the face of my companion.
There was a singular questioning look in his
eyes, and a stern earnestness in the fixity of his
features that tilled me with surprise and dis-
quietude.
" What an extraordinary question to ask,
Robinson?" (this is the name I have christened
him) — " You almost frighten me by the bare
suggestion of such a catastrophe."
At another time, while staying at Florence,
I felt extremely anxi<.)U3 about not receiving
any letters from home. I was gloomy and
out of sorts in consequence, and remained
several hours each day in the hotel lounging
about my apartment, or reading any book
that fell into my hands to wile away the time. On
every occasion I happened to raise my head, I
encountered the eyes of Robinson fixed thought-
fully on me. After a time I grew rather
annoyed at this, but still managed to keep my
countenance without letting him discover that
I winced tinder his scrutiny. Becoming
suspicious to know if there was any meaning in
his looks, other than of idle curiosity, I
beckoned him to my side, and questioned him
as follows — "Is there anything you wish to ask
me, Robinson ? I have caught your eyes several
times turned towards me, and suspect that there
is something on your mind which yoti have not
the courage to speak about."
He raised his shoulders and shook his
head like a veritable Frenchman, and answered
carelessi}'.
"There is nothing I want to say, master."
" Then why keep staring at me in that
manner?" replied I. "Do you not know the
habit is very rude and sometimes offensive,
Robinson."
"Forgive me if I have displeased you," said
he, " but I notice a great change in you since
156
we came here, and wondered to myself what
could account for it. The people of the hotel
tell me you are disappointed at not i-eceiving
letters from home, but that surely could not be
the cause of your sorrow, you have no mother,
sister, or brother at home."
" Yes, but I have a father, Robinson, he is
the only relative that is at present left me."
" But he is a cruel, wicked, and tyrannical
man, one that is abhorred and execrated by all
who know him. It is not possible that
you could feel sorrow for the death of such as
he!"
Surprised and startled by this extraordinary
language I looke 1 keenly at the fellow for eome-
tinie, but, believing the words he uttered were
only an evideuce of his barbarian stupidity, I
took no further notice of the remarks, only
attempting to remove his impiessions about
your wickedness, and set him right concerning
the nature of filial duty in general.
I find he is remarkably friendly with tha
servants in every hotel I stop at, and oftentimes
as well informed about matters of local interest
as if he had been living there the greater part of
his life. On one or two occasions I thought it
necessary to warn him against several suspicious
looking characters with whom he consorted.
The descendants of the Romans are thieves,
villains, and cut-throats, thoy will use the stiletto
on the slightest provocation, and if 5'ou happened
to get murdered in a street brawl there is no
probability of ever bringing the criminal to
justice. I told Robinson this, but he smiled
incredulously nt me, and remarked that he could
always read the character of the man in his face
and consequently only mixed with those who
would do him no harm.
1 prolonged my stay at Florence for over a
month, but no letter of any kind from England.
I then started for Naples, which I hoped to
reach by the time the mail from England arrived
there. True to my calculations, I finished my
journey a day before the mail arrived, but again
there was no letter for me. This disappointment
was increased by finding that my man Robin-
157
•son received a letter from some friend in
Liverpool, addressed to the hotel where
we were putting up. 1 left a list of the
places when letters would find me at the office in
Liverpool ; so I felt rather uneasy at my man
receiving this letter, and no communication of any
kir i for me. The thought struck me that some-
thing unpleasant had occurred to you, and the
people at home were scrupulous about informing
me. I was, therefore, curious to know the con-
tents of Robinson's letter, and before handing
it to him I took occasion to read over the super-
scription. The hand writing was very indifferent
and the spelling faulty, but evident pains had
been taken, so that the letter should reach the
p;irty for whom it was intended. It ran some-
thing like as follows : —
" For Mr. VValter Meyrick's black servant
man; he is also known as Prince Nemma-
nemma, the Fantee." Here followed the name
of the hotel at Naples, and then on the reversed
side of the letter was written — " If unknown or
not to be found please return this letter to
Henry Johnson, of Upper Frederick-street,
Liverpool, England, by whom all extra expense
will be paid."
When Robinson entered my apartments, I
told him there was a letter for one Prince
Nemma-nemma which had all the appearance of
being intended for him. He looked surprised
and disconcerted for a moment, but, quickly
recovering his self-collected manner, he took the
letter from me and placed it in the pocket of
his coat.
" If there is anything referring to my father
in that letter," said I, " perhaps you will be good
enough to let me know."
He started suddenly and glanced at me with
a suspicious and frightened look, but without
complying with my request he thrust his hand
into his pocket, and held it there.
" I have no desire to pry into your piivate
affairs," remarked I, "but I feel very anxious
about having no word of any kind from home.
I suspect my father is ill, or something wrong
has occuri'ed. Will you kindly read the letter
158
over to yourself, and let me know if there is
any foundation for my fears."
His suspicious look disappeared at this, and
drawing forth the letter, he went over towards
one of the windows and read it carefully.
"No, sir, there is no grounds for your fears;
your father has not yet returned from my
eountry."
I was somewhat relieved at this, for my sus-
picion began to take the form of certainties ; so,
hoping that the next mail would bring me
satisfactory tidings, I dismissed the whole
matter from my mind. Some days afterwards I
received the letter you had addressed to
Florence, it was sent after me by the landlord of
the hotel, and at once set my mind at rest as to
the cause of your long silence, and the incidents
that prevented your return to Liverpool.
I must now bring this very lengthy epistle to
a termination, I have given you as far as I can
an idea of the character of my black servant,and
I shall await with much interest your replies to
the following queries. Who is this man Johnson,
of Upper Frederick-street, Liverpool ? and is it
a fact that the negro you sent me was known as
a prince in his own country ? What do you
know about the latter's antecedents, and how
has he become so well educated and conversant
with the usages of civilized life ? Give me all
particulars in your next letter, for I have a
reason for being well informed in the matter.
During the next few days I hope to pay a visit to
Vesuvius, and other sights of interest in these
parts.then I purpose taking atrip up the country,
seeing the ruins of some of its ancient strong-
holds, enjoying to the full its health inspiring
climate at this season, and beholding with my
own eyes the picturesque and romantic scenery
that I have heard so much about.
I send this letter to Liverpool, as I gather
from what you say that it is your intention to
return there at once. In my next I will give
you a farther history of my travels, and until
then accept as usual the best wishes and love of
your dutiful son, Walter.
P.S — Don't neglect to enlighten me about the
159
man Robinson. Every day I am more and more
puzzled to make him out, in fact I sometimes
think he bears me no good will."
While reading this letter, William Meyrick
never moved a muscle until he came to that part
where the name of JSemma-nemma was men-
tioned. Then he started instantly to his feet
with a feeling of inexpressible alarm and appre-
hension. Until that momentj he had never
harboured a suspicion about the negro whom
Johnson had been deputed to send to England,
although the Fantee interpreter had mysteriously
disappeared from the locality at the same time.
Now, however, the whole thing seemed to flash
across his mind at once, and the full explanation
was not diflicult to see. The very beiug of all
others whom he most feared and dreaded was
now the sole attendant of his son Walter in a
foreign country. True, he had not seen much of
him, but what he learned of his antecedents and
character made him cautiously suspicious of his
power. Besides this, there was an occurrence
some few years back that now troubled him
exceedingly. He had had a favourite brother of
the Fautee's seized clandestinely one night, and
liurried on board one of the ships sailing for
Barbadoes. He denied all knowledge of the
fact when the Fantee wi'ote to him about it,
and repeatedly refused to obtain his release,
althouah he might easily have done so.
Would this incident influence his conduct
in regard to his son Walter, or had the
circumstances of the case anything to do
with his present position ? These re-
flections filled the paternal heart of the merchant
with terrible apprehensions and alarm. Again,
there could be no doubt that Johnson was in
league with him, and from the subsequent con-
duct of the English sailor this only served to
increase the peril in which* his son was placed.
Johnson knew the weak spot in his armour, the
great aSfection he had for his only child, and
would doubtless inform his dusky confederate
of the fact. All the circumstances in connection
with the affair supplied startling and incontest-
160
able evidence, abundantly confirmatory of his.
worst fears. For tha first time he felt himself
powerless to contend against the machinations
of his knidwn enemies. He was accustomed to
circumvent and crush his antagonists at once,
but here was an incident entirely beyond his
control, and yet of the most vital interest.
A strange fatality seemed to beset all his later
designs and contrivances, he was defied and out-
witted by his enemies — hoodwinked and misled
by his presumptive friends. Norton had escaped
his clutches when he was about taking means to
'prevent him from doing any harm. He and
Johnson got into a boat one morning and pulled
towards an English ship that was standing off
the coast. They told the captain that they were
in fear of their lives from the slave dealers, and
were prepared to pay their passage to England,
let the cost be what it migiit. Norton had plenty
of money, and was willing to pay for his com-
panion as well as himself. The captain, after
making isome inquiries, consented to their pro-
posal, and the two men whom the merchant
had determined on keeping away from England
were fortunate to escape his power. Johnson
knew too much of his business, and he had
already proved himself a dangerous witness from
what had reached him before he started on his
homeward journey.
These distracting thoughts passed and re-passed
before the' merchant's mental vision. The money
losses and trade disasters were for the moment
forgotten, and all the tension of his mind was
direc.ted to this new and appalling misfortune
that seemed to threaten his dearest hopes. All
former troubles only stimulated him to greater
activity and energy, but this latter seemed to
annihilate his mental and physical rigour, and
cast a shadow over all his future life.
Hesut silent and motionless in.his chair, until
the light had faded away " and darkness filled
all the spaces in the room. The noise and
bustle of tr;iffic at length ceased, and the
solitary footstep of the belated clerk or mer-
chant hurrying homeward was the only sound
that reached his ear. The very silence that
161
supervened seemed to awaken him from the
lethargic state into which his prostrated ener-
gies had thrown him ; and at last struggling
to his feet he discovered that the hour
was unusually late, and he must make
an effort at once to reach his home.
To- morrow would bring back physical strength
and mental resources to his aid, and then
he would resolve upon what he should do.
Passing into the general office he found the
silent clerks still writing away at their books.
They dared not leave the place before their
master, and would have probably remained all
night if he had not made his appearance.
" I feel rather unwell, Leatherbairow," said
he, speaking in an unusually quiet tone of voice,
" and I want you to call a hackney coach for me."
His face was pale and distorted, and he
appeared to tremble nervously as he stood in the
office, waiting the arrival of the vehicle. To the
furtive glances of the clerks a great and startling
change had taken place in his appearance.
With the assistance of Leatherbarrow ho was at
length placed in the hackney coach, and as it
rumbled slowly away, an incubus of fear and
suspense was lifted from the anxious clerks, and
the happy moment of their release had at last
arrived.
CHAPTER IV.
The day following, James Norton, who was a
solicitor by profession, received a somewhat
startling communication from an old friend of
his, the British consular agent at Naples. After
reading this letter over, and making himself
acquainted for the first time with an evident
plot on the part of Johnson and the blacjj ser-
vant attached to Mr. Meyrick's son. he as once
made up his mind to call on the former jjerson
and elicit some explanation of . the extra-
ordinary news which he had just received.
During the whole time they were brought together
162
— more especially on their homeward passage —
Johnson had never mentioned anything about
sending Nemma-nemma to Europe, or even the
fact that his master had requisitioned a black
servant to attend on his son. He therefore went to
the place where Johnson lodged, resolved in his
mind to learn the full particulars of the case,
and see if anything could be done to prevent the
dangerous consequences that already threatened
the life of Meyrick's son.
Since his return to England, Johnson had
been a confirmed invalid. The injuries and
treatment he had received while in the mer-
chant's employment, both as a sailor and on the
coast of Guinea, completely rained his con-
stitution. He was unable to do any kind
of laborious work, and had to eke out a pre-
carious living by going on errands, or taking the
place of a watchman on the quays, when any of
his patrons had merchandise stowed there. On
reaching the house in Frederick-street, Norton
was considerably surprised to notice the unmis-
takable evidence of poverty on all sides. He
had never been to Johnson's lodgings before,
although he had taken a note of the address in
his pocket-book, and gave him a sort of promise
that he would call and see him when in the
neighbourhood. The mistress of the house, a
slatternly and impoverished-looking woman, in-
formed him that her lodger was upstairs ill in
bed, and that there was no hkelihood of his ever
getting well again. If the gentleman wanted to
see him he would find the room at the top of the
stairs. She couldn't abear to hear him cursing
and carrying on, so he must excuse her showing
him the way upstairs. "When Norton entered
the room of the sick man he was greatly shocked
at the sight that was presented to him. On
some coarse bedding in the corner of the room
Henry Johnson was lying, his face turned wist-
fully towards the door, and his voice,
strangely altered, muttering fearful impre-
cations on his landlady's head. There was the
mark of death on his worn and distorted features,
the madness of despair in the wild and restless
gleam of his eyes. For a moment he failed to
163
recognise his visitor, but at the sound of the
latter's voice his memory at once came to his
aid.
'* I never suspected that you were in this con-
dition, Johnson," said Norton, approaching the
bedside, " why did you not send me word of
your illness, I might have been able to render
you some little assistance."
The sick man shook his head determinedlv, and
replied, "No, no, Mr. Norton; you have been
too generous already. I could not think of
bothering you with my private misfortunes. It
will be all over with me in a few days — perhaps
a few hours, and then I shall have peace and
rest. Yes, sir, that peace and rest which I have
never known since I fell into the clutches of that
cursed tyrant Meyrick ; but wait, his time has
yet to come. (Jh ! Heaven grant that it may
come quickly, and then I will die happy when I
know that he suffers."
"Those are unchristian words, Johnson, and
you pain me by uttering them at the present
moment. I came here for the purpose of asking
you a question, which I am certain you will not
refuse to answer me. It will explain the sub-
stance of a letter I received this morning from a
friend in Naples. I will read you a portion of
what my friend says, and you can then give me
your answer.
" * I have just beard some bad news regarding
a young Liverpool gentleman, who has been
staying here for the last few months. His name
is Walter Meyrick, and he has a black servant
who bears the outlandish cognomen of Nemma-
nemma. This latter individual has been in the
habit of associating with some notorious bri-
gands in the neighbourhood, and I hear that he
has succeeded in leading his master into an
ambuscade ; so that the unfortunate gentleman
is now in the power of these banditti. I am now
told the black servant has a correspondent in
your town, I forget the fellow's name, but there
cannot be a doubt that he is an accomplice
in this affair. As far as I can see it is their
intention to extort a large sum of money from
the relatives of the young man, and then
164
divide the spoil betweun themselves and the
brigands. If you have any means of tracing
this fellow in Liverpool, it would be an act of
justice to have him arrested, and kept in durance
vile until the release of Mr. Meyrick.'
" There is a postscript which appears to have
been added after he had heard further particu-
lars.
" ' The young Englishman has fallen into
the hands of one of the most determined and blood
thirsty of the brigand chiefs. The ransom
demanded is twenty thousand pounds, and there
is small hope for his life if this enormous sum is
not forthcoming. If his friends can afford the
sura, let it be paid at once, for several of the
Neapolitan soldiers inform me that his captor
has never been known to fail in carrying out his
threats.' "
During the reading of these extracts, Johnson
sat up in his bed, and seemed to be under the
influence of frantic joy and excitement. He
laughed a strange hollow laugh, while his face
displayed all the emotion and delight of one who
suddenly received joyful and unexpected tidings.
" Yes," said he, when the other had finished
reading, and turned towards him — " Yes,
I will answer the question you're about
to ask. I am the Liverpool correspondent your
friend refers to. I planned and arranged all
this a year ago — on the very evening you ap-
pealed in vain for the poor black woman's child.
I chose a man after my own heart for the pur-
pose, and see how nobly he has fulfilled my
instructions. Bravo, Nemma-nemma ! You
are a prince indeed amongst men. Ah ! _ I
knew the metal you were made of. Now will
the Nemesis seize upon the cruel-hearted
tyrant that has wrecked my life and the lives
of thousands of other unfortunate beings who
have fallen within his power. Ha ! ha ! ha! I
can die easy now. How his heart strings will
break when he has to disgorge twenty thousand
pounds to save the life of his favourite son."
The sick man fell back heavily on the bed
after uttering this, and for. a moment Norton
imagined that the shadow of death had inter-
165
vened, and his vengeful spirit had passed away
with the frantic laughter upon his lips. But
this was not the case, he revived shortly after-
wards, and continued speaking in a low and
more collected tone of voice, interrupted now
and then by a loud and distressing fit of
coughing. " You must not blame me, Mr.
Norton, for the feelings of rancour I cherish
towards that man; I would not be natural if I
felt otherwise. Look at what he has done to
me, and I am only one out of thousands that
suffered at his hands, and the hands of the
other scoundrels that are making money
in the slave trade. The bones of many a
British seaman lie bleaching on the sand of
Africa or in the jungles and forests of the
West India Islands. I am not talking now
of the unfortunate negroes, but of my own
countrymen, the hearty, healthy, hardworking
blue jackets that you may meet along the docks,
or passing down any of the public streets. You
yourself remember me a few years back. What
a strong, robust, energetic young man I was !
full of hope, full of life, with the prospect of a
happy and comfortable future before me. Look
at the picture now ! see me shattered in consti-
tution, writhing in pain and anguish, and totter-
ing slowly towards the brink of the grave.
What right under heaven had that man to
shorten my days — embitter the life that God had
given me, and thrust me as it were foicibly out
of existence. Why should he have the power to
cancel all the hopes and intentions I cherished —
all the blessings and happiness that the future
had in store for me. But never mind, the scheme
I planned so cautiously and cleverly has at
length succeeded. I can now feel, even with
my la'it gasp, a satisfaction in knowing that he
will writhe and sutler under the torture that my
vengeance has inflicted."
Here a desperate fit of coughing ensued, and
the dying man lay back exhausted in his bed.
He appeared to breathe with great dilliculty and
pain, and all power of further speech seemed to
have left hioi. Seeing the hopelessness
of continuing the interview, Norton arose
166
from his seat beside the bed and, after leaving
some money to meet the immediate necessicies
of the case, he quickly took his departure from
the house. What should he do next ? The
affair was evidently more serious than he was
at first led to beUeve. Would he call at once at
the merchant's office and have an interview with
him about it ? Here a difficulty conf routed him
at the outset. William Meyrick and he were on
the worst possible terms, in fact he was publicly
known to be one of the local promoters of
several meetings and petitions for the suppres-
sion of the slave trade. Again, his experiences
on the Guinea coast made him in the strictost
sense of the word an open enemy of the mer-
chant's, flowever, he thrust all these considera-
tions aside in a matter of this importance, and
forthwith turned his steps in the direction of
Argyle-street.
It was noon by the time he reached the office,
and he had the satisfaction to know that Mr.
Meyrick was there and not specially engaged at
the moment. When he entered the merchant's
presence the first thing that struck him was the
remarkable change in that gentleman's appear-
ance. If twenty years had passed over his head
there could not have been a more startling and
palpable alteration. His face was pale and hag-
gard, his eyes dull and spiritless, and the robust
energy of his frame seemed to have collapsed
into the feeble and hesitating movements of a
decrepit and sickly old man. He greeted the
visitor's entrance with a suspicious look and
frown, but without uttering a word, and pointed
mechanically to where there was a chair, then
lay back in his seat to hear the reason of the
unexpected visit.
Norton at once proceeded to read the letter
which he had received from his friend in Naples,
taking what pains he could to break the un-
pleasant news as gently as possible.
At first a suspicious smile seemed to lurk in
the old man's features, as though he perceived
some cunning ruse to frighten him and extort
money, but presently a more serious and con-
cerned look supplanted this, and he immediately
167
pulled forth his son's letter and glanced at the
date. It was dated fully three mouths back, a
fact that he had quite overlooked when reading
it the day before. Here the thought flashed
across his mind that perhaps there was another
letter from him which he had failed t© recognise
last night. He unlocked the drawer at once, and
taking out the letters commenced to sort and
examine them with nervous haste. The possible
truth of this crushing news began to take hold
upon his mind ; the worst fears and suspicions
which his son's letter had suggested might have
come to pass after all. At last he selected a
strange, foreign looking letter, which, on close
examination, proved to be in the handwriting of
his son. With a beating heart and trembling
hand he tore this letter open, and read as
follows : —
Dearest Father, — I have bad news to tell
you ; I have fallen into the power of the
brigands, and they demand a sum equal to
twenty thousand pounds for my release. If
this ransom is not forthcoming a cruel and
summary death will be the result. I have great
confidence in your fatherly love and aflection,
and therefore do not fear that such a terrible
fate will overtake me. Forgive me father for
bringing this great trouble on you, but the fault
was not entirely mine. This letter will be read
by my captors, so, for certain reasons, I cannot
be more explicit now. On no account take any
steps to find my whereabouts, or hold any com-
munication with either the British or Neapolitan
authorities in this matter. By so doing you
will place me in great peril, and destroy the only
means left for my release. The brigands are
well informed of everything that occurs here,,
and have friends and confederates in the high
offices of the state. Lodge the money at once
to the credit of Paolo Narvi, Naples, and get
the people at your bank to write ofi* immediately,
and acquaint their agents at Naples of the fact.
Lose not a moment in carrying out these
instructions, for every thing depends on prompti-
tude and despatch. Any delay or hesitation
]68
always occasions suspiciou, and besides I am
anxious to get ray liberty as soon as possible.
I now leave my life entirely in your hands, and
I need scarcely add that I have no doubt of the
result. — Your unfortunate son, Walter.
Norton watched the old man's face while he
was reading this letter. The emotion and terror
that was there expressed, naturally assured him
that it referred to the subject of his visit. His
eyes appeared to start from their sockets in
amazement and wonder. He read and re-read
the letter over like one whose mental faculties
had failed to grasp the true import of its con-
tents. Gradually, however, the terrible truth
seemed to burn itself into his brain; he
recognised the peril and danger in which his son
was placed ; and the enormous mone'y ransom
was written in flaming characters before his
mental vision. He drop[)ed the letter from his
hands, and fell back horrified in his chair, as
though he had been seized with a sudden faint-
ing fit.
Norton sprang at once to his feet to render
assistance, but he waved him aside, and
motioned that he was to remain in his seat.
Slowly and gradually his native strength
returned to him, the keen and far-seeing intel-
lect began to re-assert its dominion ; the energy
and force of his character was Mgain in the
ascendant. Passing his hand across his brow,
as if to dissipate the vision that produced his
weakness, he looked steadily at his visitor,
and spoke for the first time during the
interview.
" This letter is from my son, confirming all
yoa have just told me. What would you advise
me to do in this terrible business ?"
" The only advice I could give, Mr. Meyrick,
is to pay the money at once, and save the life
of your son."
" What ! pay twenty thousand pounds and
leave myself a pauper for the rest of my days^
impossible ! Ah, you little know that every
farthing has been coined out of my anxious brain,
and by laborious days and nights during a long
169
lifetime. No, no, I could part with it only
at the sacrifice of my life."
" Well, you know the alternative. There is
nothing more certain than that the brigands
will carry out their threat, and the fate of your
son is sealed."
"But, why — why should they want all that I
possess ? Could they not be satisfied with five
hundred or a thousand ? Neither my poor boy
nor myself have done them any harm."
"I fear," remarked Norton, "that they are
well informed of your means, and as the whole
thing has been designed with the object of
revenge, you have a poor chance of getting
mercy at their hands. Now that your son is in
their power the only prudent course is to com-
ply with their demand."
" But -their informants — Johnson and that
black scoundrel — did not know what I was
worth. I am only a poor man after all, Mr.
Norton, I have had great losses latterly — every-
thing has been going to the bad about me If
my creditors were to press me I could scarcely
pay them twenty shillings in the pound."
" All that I can say then is that you will never
see your son alive again. I am heartily sorry
for the fate of the young man, and equally in-
dignant at the vile machinations that have com-
passed his death."
" Yes, yes, I'll have that devil Johnson
arrested and hanged forthwith. Oh, I would
like to act the part of the executioner myself.
As to the other ruffian I shall live to see him
■drawn and quartered before my eyes. Oh, do
not fear, Mr. Norton, I am not forgetting what
is due to these conspirators. I am not slow in
returning blow for blow."
" If you'd take my advice, Mr. M'eyrick, you
would not trouble yourself at present about
these culprits, think only of the danger that
ETirrounds your son, and the means within your
power to save him. Let every other thought
be put aside until that is accomplished. I have
now said all that I can in the matter, and
must leave the result entirely in your own
hands."
170
As he stood up from his seat, prepared to
take his departure, the merchant begged him
earnestly to remain a little longer. He had no
one to advise him — no one to give him any
Information in this business, and his mind was
so confused and upset that he could not
determine on a line of conduct for himself.
"Suppose I send them £5,000, Mr.
Norton, would not that be sufBcient to satisfy
their demands ?"
" From what I am led to beheve they will
not abate a jot in the sum mentioned," replied
the other.
"Then— then £7,000, Mr. Norton? Only
imagine the enormous sum that is! It
has taken me years and years to scrape it
together."
" I can only tell you what I should do under
the circumstances. I would not endanger my
son's life by stopping to haggle and bargain in
the matter. I would pay the sum demanded,
if I had it, and then, when my son was safe in
England, I would take any steps I thought fit
to bring the guilty parties to punishment."
The merchant was now standing up, confront-
ing his visitor with a fixed and searching look.
Did he suspect that Norton was in league with
the others, notwithstanding his sympathetic
words and friendly interference .^ With all
the knowledge of his fellowmen with which he
was credited, there was one thing that he
could never understand, and that was generous
and disinterested sympathy. In his mind there
was always some selfish motive underlying
every good action, and in forming his opinion
of others he was ever searching for this ulterior
object which should reveal the character.
" I will make one more ofier," said he, still
keeping his eye fixed on the other. " It will
leave me a poor man— almost a beggar — but
never mind, if it will save the life of my child.
I will give 10,000— £10,000, Mr. Norton ! "
" I could not think of counselling you further,
Mr. Meyrick ; you must speak to some of
your friends, and hear what they have to say
about it."
171
"Will not that do, Mr. Norton, £10,000 r"'
reiterated he, paying no attention to what the
other said. " It is like tearing my heart out to
part with all my life-long earnings, but they
shall not harm a hair of my son's head. He
is the last of my kindred — the only joy left to
me in this world. He is a good young man,
Mr. Norton, dutiful, learned, and religious. He
has a bright future before him, and all my hopes
and ambitions are centred in him. Would it
not be monstrous to take his life away, and for
no other reason than that his aged parent could
not pay the sum demanded ? Is there any
feeling or justice in the breasts of his captors?
Surely, if they understood my position, they
would accept the sum I ofler, and not darken
my declining years by shedding the innocent
blood of my child."
"I fear, sir, you do not know the character
of the men you talk about. Besides, it is out
of your power to communicate with them ; they
are away in the mountain fastnesses of Italy,
the whereabouts of which is only known to
their confederates."
"You do not mean to say they will murder my
boy if I refuse to send them all the ransom money ?"
" That, I regret to say, is my firm conviction,
Mr. Meyrick,"
The old merchant staggered back some paces.and
groaned aloud in the agony of his soul. He was
not so ignorant of the desperate character of
the brigands, but he cherished a hope that Nor-
ton possessed some mysterious means of com-
municating with them, and could, if ho liked,
render him incalculable service in his extremity.
Now, however, the delusion of this hope was
apparent to him ; he saw no succour, no helping
hand, no aid of any kind within his reach. Turn
how he would the vision of the money ransom or
the terrible alternative of his son's death con-
fronted him on all sides. The sudden vigour of
mind which he displayed at first seemed now to
desert him. He tottered and trembled feebly
towards a seat, and then threw himself into it
with the air of a man thoroughly and irretriev-
ably crushed.
172
" You may leave me now, mister," said he, in a
voice that partook of the desolation of his heart.
" I must have a httle time to think. My mind
is so bewildered at present that I cannot reason
or reflect. I have no power or energy to do any-
thing, even if my life depended on it. !No, I
will have no doctor or physic, I am only too well
aware of the nature of my complaint, and the
remedy it requires. Call and see me again this
evening ; I shall expect you about six o'clock,
and will tell you then the result of my delibera-
tions. Oh Heavens ! the tortures to which
these villains have subjected me. To think that
the fortune I have struggled so hard to make
should at last pass into the hands of scoundrels
and cut-throats."
When Norton found himself in the street
again he experienced all the relief that one feels
who has passed through some trying and depres-
sing ordeal. The terrible eftect of the blow was
only faintly shadowed forth in the merchant's
language; the despair and agony that wrung
his heart was more fully revealed in his expres-
sion and bearing. Habitually reserved and silent,
tlie tortures that he suffered could only be ade-
quately conceived from the appalling changes
that his appearance underwent. Knowing his
character by this time — his insatiable thirst for
money, his miserly and penurious habits, and the
life-long struggle he was engaged in to amass
wealth, no matter how — the keen intensity and
force of his sufferings was easily comprehended
by Norton. But what the upshot would be
between his love for money and the affection he
was known to cherish for his son, even that
gentleman could not safely predict. The reputa-
tion he bore gave but scant hope of that humanity
which all ordinary individuals would be certain
to show under similar circumstances.
Norton returned slowly towards his own office,
revolving over in his mind all that had just
happened, and deeply incensed at the wickedness
of the two men who had brought it all about.
How or when it would end he could not say, but
of one thing he felt certain, the slave merchant
would never be the same man again. When he
173
entered his office he was surprised to find the land-
lady of the house where Johnson lodged waiting
to see him. She told him that her lodger was
on the point of death, and wished to see him par-
ticularly, as he had something important to com-
municate. Witnout hesitating a moment he
immediately turned round and accompanied the
woman with all haste to the house in Frederick-
street. In accordance with her statement it was
plainly evident that Johnson's time in this world
was only the matter ot an hour or two. He lay
back in his bed still and motionless, with
no sign of life or movement, save the
anxious and wandering glances that shot
from his wild and restless eyes. He could
scarcely speak, and that only with the greatest
difficulty, and a lapse of some moments inter-
vened between the utterance of each word. As
soon as Norton approached the bedside, the
dying man exhibited unusual anxiety to say
something, but was prevented from doing so by
sheer phj^sical exhaustion. The distressing
cough had left him by this time, and it appealed
to have taken all his remaining strength and
vigour along with it. His voice was altogether
gone ; nothing but his intellect and the faintest
fluttering of life remained behind.
" If you sit by him a short time, sir," said the
woman, " he may recover his breath and be
able to speak to you ; but you must keep your
ear close to his mouth to hear what he says."
Johnson glanced gratefully towards the woman
for saying this, and then closed his eyes, as if to
await patiently the return of the desired power.
In the meantime Norton took a seat beside the
bed, wondering to himself what the important
something could be, which he wished to cum-
municate before sinking into eternity. He was
somewhat shocked at the suddenness of the
collapse since the interview that morning, but
the passion and excitement he then displayed
might have had the eflect of hastening his end.
After a time the sick man opened his eyes,
and motioned Norton to lean forward and place
his ear close to his mouth. He did as he was
directed, and then the following — uttered slowly
174
and somewhat incoherently — was the substance
of what he heard : —
" I do not want to leave this world in your
bad opinion, Mr. Norton. I am not the desperate
and cruel-hearted character that my words this
morning would seem to imply. Although I
suggested and designeii the plot for the capture
of Walter Meyrick, I did so out of no ill will to
the young man, but simply to be revenged on
his father for the injuries I have suffered at his
hands. In the event of the capture I made one
condition indispensable, the young man was not
to be punished for his parents sins ; whether the
ransom money was forthcoming or not he was
to be liberated after a few months' detention. I
cannot now fully explain all, but you may set
your fears at rest on that head. I refrained from
mentioning this before, because I knew you
would have informed his father, and then the
purpose of my revenge would be rendered futile.
However, on the verge of eternity a calmer and
a better spirit took possession of me. I wish to
leave this world at peace with all men — even
with that one who has done me so much wrong.
It is not too late yet to undo what I have done ;
but you must promise me not to take any steps
to punish the Fantee. He was only my tool in
the matter; I alone am responsible for every-
thing that has happened. I have full confidence
in your honour and justice to see that my
wishes in this respect are carried out. Now,
when the cable snaps, I can drift out peacefully
in the ocean of eternity, and meet the
Great Judge without fear or trembling. Fare-
well, Mr. Norton — farewell. The lesson which
your kindness and humanity inculcated was
the means of turning my thoughts into this
better channel at last. Let the wrongs I
suflered compensate in your mind for the evil
deeds I attempted."
He ceased speaking, and, to all appearance,
breathing, but Norton remained at the bedside
until the last spark of life flickered, and then
was extinguished for ever in this world. When
all was over, his first step was to hasten at once
to the merchant's office and communicate the
175
good news he had heard from Johnson. The
hour was long past the time appointed by the
merchant, but he took no notice of this in his
anxiety to convey the good tidings he pos-
sessed.
When he reached the office he thrust the door
open quickly, and entered the place in breathless
haste. The clerks, who were busy at the time,
looked round perfectly horrified at the disturb-
ance which his entrance created. The cashier
wriggled off his stool and hobbled forward to
the counter, raising his finger at the same time
to enforce silence. He leaned over the counter,
and whispered timidly into Norton's ear.
" Mr. Meyrick left strict orders that silence
was to be maintained here, as he is busily en-
gaged on some important business inside."
" Oh, I beg pardon. I have some very good
news to tell him, and was rather precipitate in
my entrance. Can I go through ?' '
" I am afraid not; he cannot be disturbed on
any account."
"But I have an appointment with him," said
Norton, "he told me to be here about six
o'clock,"
As he said this, he looked up at the ancient
timepiece hanging against the wall with its long
pendiUum swinging too and fro, and discovered
that he was fully an hour and a half beyond the
appointed time.
" I dare not act contrary to his instructions, "
said the cashier, " but if you like to take
the responsibility you are at liberty to enter."
Without further talk he at once proceeded
towards the door of the private office, and
knocked quietly with his fingers. After pausing
a while he knocked again, and again somewhat
louder, and at length he thought jhe heard a
voice from within telling him to enter. He
turned the handle of the door, and walked into
the room accordingly. It was growing late at
the time, and he was surprised to find the place
in comparative darkness, and a sense of pro-
found stillness pervading it. However, he could
distinguish the merchant sitting at his desk near
the window and immediately approached him
176
with the words — "I have good news to tell you,
Mr. Meyrick, Johnson has confessed all."
He stood for a moment close to his chair,
expecting that he would turn his head and
reply, when all at once he became aware of
something strange in the merchant's position.
By this tmie his eyes were more accustomed to
the gloom, and he could see that Meyrick's
head was bent forward, resting on the desk
before him, and, to all appearance, as though he
had fallen fast asleep while engaged with his
writing. At the same time a vague suspicion
flashed across his mind ; so stooping quickly
down he listened eagerly for the sound of
breathing. No, he failed to notice any sign of
respiration ; and then, growing alarmed, he
touched his hands and brow and found that
they were deadly cold. Fully convinced of what
had happened he rushed into the general
office and acquainted the clerks. Lights were
at once procured, and, when all returned to the
room, the sad truth was quickly verified beyond
a doubt. There, seated at his desk, with his
bankbook open before him, the stern and hard-
hearted slave merchant had taken his leave of
this world. The ransom money for his son was
entered to his debit in the bankbook, and the
mental struggle which the loss of that sum bad
occasioned him was more than likely the cause
of the suddenness of his death.
To Norton's mind there was all the appear-
ance of a stern retribution in the sad event.
The poor negress on the Guinea coast came
back to his memory at once. The parallel in
the fate of the rich and powerful trader,and that
of the poor homeless barbarian, was singularly
remarkable. He had dismissed her maternal
appeal with cruel contempt and indifference,
and, only a short year afterwards, he was com-
pelled to purchase his own child's freedom by
disbursing a sum of money that cost him his
life. Norton had witnessed the black woman's
frantic despair — had stood by her cold and life-
less remains in that distant land; now he was
standing beside the rigid and motionless body of
the man who had been the cause of all her mis-
177
fortunes. In each case he had been made the
confidant of their wrongs — in each case he was
the first to discover the fate that had befallen
them.
Owing to the excitement that followed Mey-
rick's death, the despatch of the ransom money
was unheeded until it became too late to
countermand it. In any case, Norton was fear-
ful of interfering, lest his well-meant intentions
might result to the detriment of the captive.
How could Johnson or anyone else rely on the
promises of the brigands when they had such a
rich pr ze within their power p No, "ill got, ill
gone; " it was better to forfeit the money than
lisk the young man's life.
With the exception of some commotion in
business circles the death of the slave merchant
was a matter of little concern to the general
public. The circumstances of his son's captivity
were not known until long afterwards, and the
event of the sudden death of an old man was only
a matter of common occurrence.
In due time Walter Meyrick was released from
his bondage, and returned post-haste to Eng-
land on hearing what had taken place. Not-
withstanding the heavy trade losses and the
money sent to the brigands, the old merchant
died immensely rich. The business was trans-
ferred into other hands, and young Meyrick
returned to Cambri(%e, where he renewed his
studies, and finally entered the church.
What had become of Nemma-nemma was
never satisfactorily known. Some said that he
had joined the brigands and become a great
leader amongst them ; others that he had
returned to his own country, and attempted to
stir up the natives against the cruelties of the
slave trade.
Mackie & Co., Limited, Printers, Albion OflBce, LiFerpool.
JL
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