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MSGIIL

DIVERSITY
UBRARY

ST. IVES

BEING

^be a&venture0 of a jfrencb iprlsoner

in finglant)

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

TORONTO
THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, Limited

1897

COPTRIQBT, 1896, BT

8. S. McCLURE & CO.

CoPVRIOHT, 1897, BT

OSAKLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

TROW OmtCTORY

MINTING *»iO BOOkBlKOlNQ CCMP«NT
NEW TORK

EDITORIAL NOTE

T... following talo wa« taken down from Mr. Stoven«on'« dicta,
tlon Uy ,.,. .top-daughtor and amanuensis, Mrs. Stron,., at interval*

j^.2-21,,, 21..), .24, im and .50). About «. week« before his deat). I
bud he story a^ide to take up Weir of Ifernnston. The thirty chapters

revi! ,fr r " ''' """'" <'^' '"^* '^"- «^ "'^"> "PP'^'^'ntly un-
rev sed) brought the tale within sight of its conclusion, and the in-
teaded course of the remainder was known in outline to Mrs. Strong.
Kor the benefit of those readers who do not like a story to be left
unf>n.shed, the delicate task of supplying the n.issing dmpter a
been mtrusted to Mr. QuiUer-Coucb. whose work begins at Cblpte;

£S. C.J

HCcvSOO i

CONTENTS

CHAPTKB
I.

II.
III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

I.\'.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.
XVII.

A Tat.e or A Lion Kampant,

A Talk of a Paih of Scissors, .

Major Ciikvenix Co.mes Into the Story

Goouelat Goes Olt, ....
St. Ives Get.'^ a Hundle of Bank Notes,
St. Ives is Shown a House,

The Escape,

Swanston Cottage,

The IIen-hoise,

TlIKEB IS Co.MPANV, AND FoL'H NoNE, .
TlIH DitOVEltS,

TiiE Great North Hoad, ....

I Follow a Covered Cart Nearly to

Destination,

I JIeet Two of My Countrymen,

Travels of the Covered Cart,

The Adventure of the Attorney's Clerk,

The Home-coming of Mr Rowley's Viscount.

The Despatch rox,

FAGE
1

AND

36
45
54
G5
73
8i
95
107

119
132
142
150
1G8
177

CBAFTXR
XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.
XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXVI.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Mr. Romaine Calls Me Names, .... 187

The Devil and All at Amersiiam Tlace, . . 198

After the Storm, 210

I Become the Owner of a Claret coloured Chaise, 221

Character and Acquire.ments of Mr. Kowley,. 231

The Adventure o" the Ki naway Coui'le, . . 241

The Inn-keeper of Kirkby-Lonsdale, . . . 254

I Meet a Cheerful Extravagant, . . . 263

The Cottage at Night, 271

The Sabbath Day, 282

Events of Monday: The Lawyer's Party^ . . 294

Events of Tuesday : The Toils Closing, . . 310
Events of Wednesday; The University of

Cramond, 324

Events of Thursday: The Asskmhly Ball, . 337
Events of Friday Morning : The Cutting of the

Gordian Knot, 355

" The Incomplete Aeronauts," .... 369

" Captain Colenso," ;;i)0

In Paris— Alain Plays His Last Card, . . 410

I go to Claim Flora, ...... 427

ST. IVES

CHAPTER I

A TAI.E OF A LION IIAMPANT

,, ^l 7u ';■ ■"'! "°""' "' ^^"^ ^"'^ 'hat I was so unlucky
as to fail at last mto the Lands of the enemy. Mv knowl
odgeo, the EnglM, language had marked'me out or t
oertam emp oyment. Though I eannot conceive a sold er
ofus.ng to ,ne„r the risk, yet to be hanged for a spy is a
'l.sg„.tM,g lu,smess ; and I was ■•elievcd io be held a prist
oner „ war Into the Castie of Edinburgh, standing n
he .nulst of tl,at e ty on the suu,mit „, an° extraordtaa ^
lock, I was cist with several hundred fellow-snflerer, all
privates l,ke .nyself, and the more part of them, by rL
dent, very Ignorant, phaiu fellows. My Enrfish "vwd
had brought me into that scrape, now'helpfd me v ry
matenally to bear it. I had a thousand advantage, r
was 0 ten called to play the part of an intorpre r,^^^.
of orders or complaints, and thus brougl t in reLtiou,
omot.mes of mirth, sometimes almost of f riendsh n wUh
the omcers ,u charge. A young lieutenant singkd ^ « '
0 be h,s adversary at chess, a game in which I wl e'
tremely proficient, and would reward me for mv Jambit

lr:^"Fr'enTr- '"" T" °' *» "atSL^Hot
lehhons ot iUench from me. w i le af hm-.l-fn^f i

-retimes so obliging ,,,, to l.J.I^'tti^l Z

ST. IVES

meal. Chcvcnix was liis name. IIo was stiff as a drum-
major and sollisli as an Englishman, but a fairly conscien-
tious i)uj)il and a fairly upright man. Little did I sup-
pose that his ramrod body and frozen face would, in the
eml, step in between me and all my dearest wishes ; that
ui)on this preeise, regular, icy soldier-man my fortunes
should so nearly shipwreck ! I never liked, but yet I
trusted him ; and though it may seem but atrille, I found
his snulT-box with the bean in it come very welcome.

For it is strange how grown men and seasoned soldiers
can go back in life ; so that after but a little while in
prison, which is after all the next thing to being in the
nursery, they grow absorbed in the most pitiful, childish
interests, and a sugar biscuit or a pinch of snuff become
things to follow after and scheme for !

We made but a poor show of prisoners. The olficers had
been all offered their parole, and had taken it. They
lived mostly in suburbs of the city, lodging with modest
families, and enjoyed their freedom and sui)ported the
almost continual evil tidings of the Emperor as best they
might. It chanced I Avas the only gentleman among the
privates who renuiined. A great part were ignorant Ital-
ians, of a regiment that had suffered heavily in Catalonia.
The rest were mere diggers of the soil, treaders of grapes or
hewers of wood, who had been suddenly and violently
preferred to the glorious state of soldiers. We had but the
one interest in common : each of us who had any skill
with his fingers passed the hours of his captivity in the
making of little toys and articles of Paris; and the prison
was daily visited at certain hours by a concourse of people
of the country, come to exult over our distress, or— it is
more tolerant to suppose— their own vicarious triumph.
Some moved among us with a decency of shame or sym-
pathy. Others were the most offensive personages in the

;

A TALE Of A LION IlAMl'ANT 3

worl,! gapcl ,>t „s as if wo ha,! I,cc>i baboons, songl.t to
ova„gol,»o us to thoir rustic, uortl.cu roligio,, „s t!„„gh
wo had bocn savagos, or tortarod us with intolligouco of

fthl '"'""„"' '•'"'"™- •■°°"' '«" '""' i"'«'fo'-

>.s,tors ; for ,t was tho praotioo of almost all to purohase
somo spccnon of our ru,lo handiwork. This led, an,„„g I
t^.o pr,souors to a stroug spirit of co.ap.titiok. So™

a « js d,s ,„g„,shcd) could placo apou sale little miracle!
of dexterity aud t,Uite. Some had a .norc engaging ap-
pearauce ; line features were found to do as lell as fine

pealed to the scnt.n.ent of pity in our visitors) to he a

wi I'ul,: l" ' ''"'r "'"" ^"J">^" -■'■ -'I'aint' c
with the language, and were able to recommend tho more

i^roeably to purchasers such trifles as they had to so IT,

he first of these advantages I could lay „o claim, f„r ,„v

Lngers were all thumbs. Some at leiL of the o her I

l.os.,esse,I ; and finding much entertainment in our om

">erce, I did not suiter my advantages to rust. have

bo,^t that every Frenchman should excel. For the an-

n umer: Tf°"""' T'''' "' ''''""'■ ' "»J a par uW

me, of address and even of appearance, which I could

oadily assume and change on the occasion rising. I never

OS an opportunity to flatter either the person "ot n,y vis-

■toi. If It should be a lady, or, if it should be a man the

m'ItT °l,'"».™'>""-y "' --• And in case my mp
ments should miss their aim, I was always ready to cover

mlker r „ "7.' " "'""«'' ' ™' "" k't-'-nded a toy-
make,, I made out to be rather a succes.sful merchant ; and

ST. IVES

fouiul means to pi-ociiro pumv ]iffln ,i.r •
1 urn scarcely drawiuff the i)nrh-.,;f ..p '

which I iirst found my JlflV^T ?"'^'"^ ^^^^'^

asluiraod to sav it hiTt r f . ' ' ""' "'""»»'

fortress, uTphcedZ T ," "'"' '''""^ "«""'^"'l

pacts „ t ^ 7overia m Z™"''"? f^'™"'""-^ Pe-
nally over the tllo o"] T "' "'"""I'^^S"' l^'t »ct.

"iliabitauts andat„,>l,f 1 ^'"'"S "™>"' "^ "">

i" mass, not only co v t b r"'r;' "" ' """' '° •"''""l
".e children in'oS;' e : '''■'n,f,;;r-- """ -'eu
Juint ffenius h-irl fnn,J ^^"°^'''- -^ ^'""k some mulig-

<iress s: i w rcir,„n:d'r'°" "' ."T'^ '■' "-

coat and tronsers of „ Tl *""'■' •'"'•''''"'' """i^'"

»i.irt„, b,„e:x;i^ «r:otto:''?r ^•^"""•: "■"' '■

it was cheap, it pointed , ™ 1 1 , , » '™ """^Pi^'-o'is,

old soldiers! used to ! I'a d onto" .!'","' • "'"• '"™

scars— like a ^Pf -^f 1 7 "^ showing noble

a set of lugubrious znnies ut a fair. The old

ivia-

A TALK OF A LION RAMPANT 5

name of that rock on wl.icli our prison stood was (1 havo.

heard suu-o then) the Painted JUL Well no v^ w- 1

pa.atecl a bright yellow witii our oostu me ' n ] T

c...e.oldierswho,u.rdednsheing:;:^^^^^^^^

Jin , .11 led rug, we imulc u|, together the elements of •

' poM my lellow-prisoners, and felt my unger rise and
choked upon tears, to behold then, tluls paroiie T .

'P^rlX^'Tr'' ""'''''-''- -Stttc^^^
u f ^^.•;'/l-««'-ffcant, hut for all that ungainly,

e o7';n "' T' "'"^ '' -ere barrack-,.om
hMhiimebs ol address: nidood v^n ,.r^„l 1 1

1 uiuccd, you could have seen nur

. „j, „„,ri,e,.o more discreditably roprcsoutod tl.aU tZ

Ca t 0 o Ed,„burgl,. And I used to see myself n fa, cv

|...< blusl, Usoe,nod that my mo,e elegant ca L " ^i

l>"t l>omt tlie insult of the travestv A„,l T ,

*;;o .lay. when I .o. the ooarbti h^ 4 L^rf 7

ic^sea than m one particular of our disoinlinp • i\.L

w. .4thr;::atda;r:r„2' -""' "- -'--' -

" ST. IVES

Vemis ; and the mere privilege of beliolding a comeJy
woniati IS wortli paying for. Our visitors, upon tlie wliolo
were not much to boast of; and yet, sitting in a corner
and very mucli asliamed of myself and my absurd appear-
iince, I have again and again tasted tlie finest, tlie rarest
Hiid the uu.)st ethereal pleasures in a glance of an eye that
1 should never see again— and never wanted to. The
flower of tlio hedgerow and the star in Jieaven satisfy
and delight us : how much more the look of that exquisite
bei ug who was created to bear and rear, to madden and re-
joice, mankind !

There was one voung lady in particular, about cigliteen
or nineteen, tall, of a gallant carriage, and with a profu-
sion of hair in which the sun found threads of gold. As
soon as she came in the courtyard (and she was a rather
Iro'iucnt visitor) it seemed I was aware of it. She had i'n
air (,f angelic candour, yet of a higli spirit ; she stepped
like a Diana, every movement was noble and free. Oue
day there was a strong east wind ; the banner was strainin<r
at the flagstalf ; below us the smoke of the city chimnevs
blew hither and thither in a thousand crazy variations ; and
away out on the Forth we could see the ships lying down
to It and scudding. I was thinking wliat a vile daylt was
when she appeared. Her hair blew in the wind with
changes of colour ; her garments moulded her with the
accuracy of sculpture ; the ends of her shawl fluttered
about her ear and were caught in again with an inimitable
deftness. You have seen a pool on a gusty day, how it
suddenly sparkles and flashes like a thing alive ? So this
lady's face had become animated and coloured ; and as I
saw her standing, somewhat inclined, her lips parted, a
divine trouble in her eyes, I could have clapped my hands
m applause, and wi-s ready to acclaim her a genuine
daughter of the winds. AVhat put it in my head, I know

A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT

Th(

not : perhaps because it was a Thursday and I was new
from the razor; but I determined to engage her atten-
tion no Uiter than that day. She was approacliiug that
part of the court in which I sat with my merchandise,
when I observed her handkercliief to escape from her
hands and fall to the ground ; the next moment, the
wind had taken it up and carried it witliin my reach. I
was on foot at once : I had forgot my mustard-coloured
clothes, I had forgot the private soidier and liis salute.
Bowing deeply, I offered her the slip of cambric.

"Madam," said I, "your handkerchief. The wind
brought it me."
I met her eyes fully.
"I thank you, sir," said she.

" The wind brought it me," I repeated. " May I not
take it for an omen ? You have an English proverb, 'It's
an ill wind that blows nobody good.' "

" Well," she said, with a smile, " * One good turn de-
serves another.' I will see what you have."

She followed me to where my wares were spread out un-
der lee of a piece of cannon.

"Alas, mademoiselle !" said I, "I am no very perfect
craftsman. This is supposed to be a house, and you see the
chimneys are awry. You may call this a box if you are
very indulgent ; but nee where my tool slipped ! Yes,
I am afraid you may go from one to another, and find a
flaw in everything. Failures for Sale should be on my
signboard. I do not keep a shop ; I keep a Humorous
Museum." I cast a smiling glance about my display and
tlien^at her, and instantly became grave. "Strange, is it
not," I added, " that a grown man and a soldier should be
engaged upon such trash, ard a sad heart produce any-
thing so funny to look at ? "
An unpleasant voice summoned her at this moment by

ST. IVES

the name of Flora, and she made a hasty purchase and re*
joined her party.

A few days after she came again. But I must first tell
you how she came to be so frequent. Iler aunt was one of
those terrible British old maids, of which the world has
heard much ; and having nothing whatever to do and a
word or two of French, she had taken wluit she called an
interest in the French prisoners. A big, bustling, bold
old lady, she flounced about our market-])lace with insuf-
ferable airs of patronage and condescension. She bougl .,
indeed, with liberality, but her nuinner of studying us
through a quizzing glass, and playing cicerone to her fol-
lowers, acquitted us of any gratitude. She had a tail be-
hind her of heavy, obsequious old gentlemen, or dull,
giggling misses, to whom she appeared to be an oracle.
" This one can really carve prettily : is he not a quiz with
his big whiskers?" she would say. "And this one,"
indicating myself with her gold eye-glass, " is, I assure you,
quite an oddity." The oddity, you may be certain, ground
his teeth. She had a way of standing in our midst, nod-
ding around, and addressing us in what she imagined to be
French: " Bienne, hommes! fa va bienne?" I took the
freedom to reply in the same lingo : " Bienne, fcmme ! fa
va couci-couci tout d'nieme, la loiirgeoiso! " And at that,
when we had all laughed with a little more heartiness than
was entirely civil, "I told you he was quite an oddity !"
says she in triumph. Needless to say, these passages were
before I had remarked the niece.

The aunt came on the day in question with a following
rather more than usually large, which she manoeuvred
to and fro about the market and lectured to at rather more
than usual length, and with rather less than her accustomed
tact. I kept my eyes down, but they were ever fixed in
the same direction, quite in vain. The aunt came and

A Tale of a lion rampant

went, and pulletl us out, and showed us oil', like caged
monkeys ; but the niece kept herself on the outskirts of
the crowd and on the opposite side of the courtyard, and
departed at last as she had come, without a sign. Closely
as I had watched her, I could not say lier eyes had ever
rested on me for an instant; and my heart was overwhelmed
with bitterness and blackness. I tore out her detested im-
age ; I felt I was done with her for ever ; I laughed at my-
self savagely, because I had thought to ple;;3e ; when I lay
down at night, sleep forsook me, and I lay, and rolled, and
gloated on her charms, and cursed her insensibility, for half
the night. Ifow trivial I thought her ! and how trivial
her sex ! A man might be an angel or an Apollo, and a
mustard-coloured coat Avould wholly blind them to his
merits. I was a prisoner, a slave, a contemned and despic-
able being, the butt of her sniggering countrymen. I
would take the lesson : no proud daughter of my foes
should have the chance to mock at me again ; none in the
future should have the chance to think I had looked at her
with admiration. You cannot imagine any one of a more
resolute and independent spirit, or whose bosom was more
wholly mailed with patriotic arrogance, than I. Before I
dropped asleep, I had remembered all the infamies of
Britain, and debited them in an overwhelming column to
Flora.

The next day, as I sat in my place, I became conscious
there was some one standing near ; and behold, it was her-
self ! I kept my seat, at first in the confusion of my mind,
later on from policy ; and she stood, and leaned a little over
me, as in pity. She was very still and timid ; her voice
was low. Did I suffer in my captivity ? she asked me.
Had I to compk'in of any hardship ?

"Mademoiselle, I have not learned to complain," said I.
" I am a soldier of Napoleon."

ST. «VKS

ffiM sighed. "At least you must regret La France,"
said she, and coloured a little as she prouounced the words,
which she did with a pretty strangeness of accent.

" What am I to say ? " 1 replied. " If you were carried
from this country, for which you seem so wholly suited,
where the very rains and winds seem to become you like
ornaments, would you regret, do you think ? We must
surely all regret ! the son to his mother, the man to hia
country ; these arc native feelings."
" You have a mother ? " she asked.
"In heaven, mademoiselle," I answered. "She, and
my father also, wont by the same road to heaven as sonuiny
others of the fair and brave : they followed their queen
upon the scaffold. So, you see, I am not so much to bo
pitied in my prison," I continued: "there are none to
wait for me ; I am alone in the world. 'Tis a different
case, for instance, with yon poor fellow in the cloth cap.
His bed is next to mine, ajid in the night I hear him sob-
bing to himself. He has a tender character, full of tender
and pretty sentiments ; and in the dark at night, and some-
times by day when he can get me apart with him, he la-
ments a mother and a sweetheart. Do you know what
'iuide him take me for a confidant ?"

She parted her lips with a look, but did not speak. The
look burned all through me with a sudden vital heut.

"Because I had once seen, iii marching by, tl'fl bolfry
of his village ! " I continued. " The circumstance .s ^uiunt
enough. It seems to bind up into one the whole bundle
of those human instincts that make life beautiful, and
peti.Io and places dear— and from which it would seem I
am c, <.ft!"

I rf;rit ■. i.iy j:;in on my knee and looked before me on
thegroar. :.. ! had beor talking until then to hold her;
but I Was iiou' not sorry she should go : an impression is a

A TALK OK A LION llAMPANT

ih'iu^ 80 delicate to produce and so easy to overthrow !
I'l'OHently she seemed to make an ell'ort.

"I will take this toy," aiie said, laid a five-aiid-sixpenny
piece in my hand, and was gone ere I could thank her.

I retired to a place apart near the ranii)art.s iuid heliind
a gun. The beauty, the expression of her eyes, the tear
that had trembled there, the compassion in her voice, and
u kind of wild elegance that consecrated the freedom of
lier movements, al' combined to enslave my imagitiatiMti
und inaame my heart. What had she said ? Nothing >
signify; but her eyes had met mine, and the fire they had
kindled burned inextinguishably in my veins. I loved her ■•
and 1 did not fear to hope. Twice 1 had spoken with her ;
und in both interviews 1 had been well inspired, J had en-
gaged hor sympathies, ^I had found words that she must
remember, that would ring in hor ears at uiglit upon her
bed. What mattered if I were half shaved and my clothes
a caricature ? I was still a man, and I had drawn my im-
age on her memory. I was still a man, and, as I trernbled
to realise, she was still a woman. Many waters cannot
quench love ; and love, which is the law of the world, was
on my side. I closed my eyes, and she sprang up on the
background of the darkness, more beautiful than in life.
"Ah I" thought I, "and you too, my dear, you too must
carry away with you a picture, that you are still to behold
again and still to embt:ish. In the darkness of night, in
the streets by day, still you are to have my voice and face,
whispering, making love for me, encroaching on your shy
heart. Shy as your heart is, it is lodged there—/ am
lodged there ; let the hours do their office— let time con-
tinue to draw me ever in more lively, ever in more insidious
colours." And then I had a vision of myself, and burst out
laughing.

A likely thing, indeed, that a beggar-mai. private sol-

i: i(|

ST. IVES

dior, u prisoner in a yellow travesty, was to awake the in-
terest of this fair girl ! I would not despair ; but I saw
tiie game must be played fine and close. It must be mv
policy to hold myself before her, always in a pathetic or
pleasing attitude ; never to alarm or startle her ; to keci)
my own secret locked in my bosom like a story of disgrace
and let hers (if she could be induced to have one), grow at
Its own rate ; to move just so fast, and not by a hair's-
breadth any faster, than the inclination of her heart 1
was the man, and yet I was passive, tied by the foot in
prison. I could not go to her ; I must cast a spell upon
lier at each visit, so that she should return to me ; and this
was a matter of nice management. I had done it the last
time-it seemed impossible she should not come again after
our interview ; and for the next I had speedily ripened a
tresh plan. A prisoner, if he has one great disability for a
lover, has yet one considerable advantage : there is nothing
to distract him, and he can spend all his hours ripening
his love and preparing its manifestations. I had been then
some days upon a piece of carving,-no less than the em-
blem of Scotland, the Lion Rampant, l^his I proceeded
to finish with what skill I was possessed of; and when at
last I could do no more to it (and, you may be sure, was
already regretting I had done so much), added on the base
the following dedication :—

A LA i3ELLE FLORA

LE PKISONNIER RECONA^AISANT

A. D. St. Y. d. K.

I put my heart into the carving of these letters. What
was done with so much ardour, it seemed scarce possible
that any should behold with indiflFerence -: and the initinl^
would at least suggest to her my noble birth. I thought

A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 13

it better to suggest : I felt that mystery was my stock-in-
trade ; tlie contrast betweoi my rank and manners, be-
tween my speech and my clothing, and the fact that she
could only think of me by a combination of letters, must
all tend to increase her interest and engage her heart

This done, there was nothing left for me but to wait and
to hope. And there is nothing further from my character •
in love and in war, I am all for the forward movement ;
a.id these days of waiting made my purgatory. It is a fact
that I loved her a great deal better at the end of them, for
ove comes, like bread, from a perpetual rehandling. And
besides, I was fallen into a panic of fear. How, if she
came no more, how was I to continue to endure my empty
days ? how was I to fall back and find my interest in the
major's lessons, the lieutenant's chess, in a twopenny sale
in t^ie market, or a halfpenny addition to the prison fare ^
Days went by, and weeks ; I had not the courao-e to cal-
culate and to-day I have not the courage to remember ;
but at last she was there. At last I saw her approach me
m the company of a boy about her own age, and whom I
divined at once to be her brother.
I rose and bowed in silence.

''This is my brother, Mr. Ronald Gilchrist," said she.
' I have told him of your sufferings. He is so sorry for
you ! -^

"It is more than T have the right to ask," I replied •
-but among gentlefolk these generous sentiments are nat-
ural. It your brother and I were to meet in the field, we
should meet like tigers ; but when he sees me here dis-
armed and helpless, he forgets his animosity." (At which
us I had ventured to expect, this beardless champion
CO oured to the ears for pleasure.) - Ah, my dear young
ady, I continued, " there are many of your countrymen
languishing in my country even as I do here. I can but

ST. IVES

II! ■■•

I i

liope there is found some Frejich lady to convoy to each of
tliem the priceless consolation of her sympathy. You have
given me alms; and more than alms— hope; and while
you were absent I was not forgetful. Suifer me to be able
to tell myself that I have at least tried to make a return ;
and for the prisoner's sake deign to accept this trifle."

So saying, I offered her my lion, which she took, looked
at in some embarrassment, and then, catching sight of the
dedication, broke out with a crv.

"Why, how did you know my name ?" she exclaimed.

" When names are so appropriate, they should be easily
guessed," said I, bowing. " But indeed there was no magic
in the matter. A lady called you by name on the day I
found your handkerchief, and I was quick to remark and
cherish it."

"It is very, very beautiful," said she, "and I shall bo
always proud of the inscription. Come, Ronald, we must
be going." She bowed to me as a lady bows to her equal,
und passed on (I could have sworn) with a heightened
colour.

I was overjoyed : my innocent ruse had succeeded ; she
had taken my gift without a hint of payment, and she
would scarce sleep in peace till she had made it up to me.
No greenhorn in matters of the hciirt, I was besides aware
that I had now a resident ambassador at the court of my
lady. The lion might be ill chiselled ; it was mine. My
hands had made and held it ; my knife— or, to speak more
by the mark, my rusty nail— luid traced those letters ; and
simple as the words were, they would keep repeating to her
that I was grateful and that I found her fair. The boy
had looked like a gawky, and blushed at a compliment ; I
could see besides that he regarded me with considerable
suspicion ; yet ho made so manly a figure of a lad. that I
could not withhold from him my sympathy. And as for

A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT

the impulse that had miide lier bring and introduce him, I
could not sufficiently admire it. It seemed to me finer
than wit, and more tender than a caress. It said (plain as
language), " I do not and 1 cannot know you. ilore is
my brother— you cau know him ; this is tlie way to me—
follow it/'

!;i

CHAPTER II

A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS

I WAS Still plunged in these thoughts when the bell was
rung that discharged our visitors into the street. Oar lit-
tle market was no sooner closed than we were summoned
to the distribution and received our rations, which we were
then allowed to eat according to fancy in any part of our
quarters.

I have said the conduct of some of our visitors was un-
bearably offensive ; it was possibly more so than they
dreamed-as the sight-seers at a menagerie may offend in
a thousand ways, and quite without meaning it, the noble
and unfortunate animals behind the bars ; and there is no
doubt but some of my compatriots were susceptible bevond
reason. Some of these old whiskerandos, originally peas-
ants, trained since boyhood in victorious armies, and accus-
tomed to move among subject and trembling populations,
could ill brook their change of circumstance. There was
one man of the name of Goguelat, a brute of the first
v/nter, who had enjoyed no touch of civilisation beyond the
military discipline, and had risen by an extreme heroism
of bravery to a grade for which he was otherwise unfitted
-that of marechal des logis in the 22nd of the line In
so far as a brute can be a good soldier, he was a good sol-
dier ; the cross was on his breast, and gallantly earned ;
but m all things outside his line of duty the rnau was no
other than a brnvling, bruising, ignorant pillar of low pot-

A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS

houses. As a gentleman by birth and a scholar by taste
and education, I was the type of all that he least under-
stood and most detested ; and the mere view of our visitors
would leave him daily in a transport of annoyance, which
he would make haste to wreak on the nearest victim, and
too often on myself.

It was so now. Our rations were scarce served out, and
I had just withdrawn mto a corner of the yard, when I
perceived him drawing near. He wore an air of hateful
mn-th ; a set of young fools, among whom he passed for a
wit, followed him with looks of expectation ; and I saw I
was about to be the object of some of his insuiferable pleas-
antries. He took a place beside me, spread out his rations,
drank to me derisively from his measure of prison beer, and
began. What he said it would be impossible to print ; but
his admirers, who believed their wit to have surpassed him-
self, actually rolled among the gravel. For my part, I
thought at first 1 slionld have died. I had not dreamed
the wretch Avas so observant ; but hate sharpens the ears,
and he had coi iited our interviews and actually knew
Flora by her name. Gradually my coolness returned to
me, accompanied by a volume of living anger that surprised
myself.

" Are you nearly done ? " I asked. - Because if you are,
I am about to say a word or two myself."

" Oh, fair play ! " said he. " Turn about ! Tlie Mar-
quis of Carabas to the tribune."

- Very well," said I. - 1 b^ve to inform you that I am
a gentleman. You do not know what that means, hey ?
Well, I will tell you. It is a comical sort of animal ;
springs from another strange set of creatures they call an-
cestors ; and in common with toads and other vfirmin has
a thing that he calls feelings. The lion is a gentleman ;
he will not touch carrion. I am a gentleman, and I can-
8

I: \

ST. IVES

not bear to soil my fingers with such a Inmp of dirt. Sit
still, Philippe Goguelat ! sit still and do not say a word, or
I shall know you are a coward ; the eyes of our guards
are upon us. Here is your health ! " said I, and pledged
him in the prison beer. " You have chosen to speak in a
certain way of a young child," I continued, 'Mvho might
be your daughter, and who was giving alms to me and some
others of us mendicants. If the Emperor "—saluting— " if
my Emperor could hear you, he would pluck off the cross
from your gross body. I cannot do that ; I cannot take
aAvay what his Majesty has given ; but one thing I promise
you— I promise you, Goguelat, you shall be dead to-night."
I had borne so much from him in the past, I believe he
thought there was no end to my forbearance, and he was at
first amazed. But I have the pleasure to think that some
of my expressions had pierced through his thick hide ; and
besides, the brute was truly a hero of valour, and loved
fighting for itself. Whatever the cause, at least, he had
soon pulled himself together, and took the thing (to do
him justice) handsomely.

" And I promise you, by the devil's horns, that you shall
have the chance ! " said he, and pledged me again ; and
again I did him scrupulous honour.

The news of this defiance spread from prisoner to pris-
oner with the speed of wings ; every face was seen to be il-
luminated like those of the spectators at a horse-race ; and
indeed you must first have tasted the active life of a sol-
dier, and then mouldered for a while in the tedium of a jail,
in order to understand, perhaps even to excuse, the delight
of our companions. Goguelat and I slept in the same
squad, which greatly simplified the business ; and a com-
mittee of honour was accordingly formed of our shed-mates.
They chose for president a sergeant-major in the 4th
Dragoons, ,a greybeard of the army, an excellent military

A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSOHS

subject, iind a good num. lie took tlie most serious view
of his functions, visited us botli, and reported our replies
to tlie committee. Mine was of a decent firnmess. I told
him the young hidy of whom Goguelat had spoken had on
several occasions given me alms. 1 reminded liim that, if
we were now reduced to iiold out our hands and sell pill-
boxes for charity, it was something very new for soldiers of
the Empire. We had all seen bandits standing at a corner
of a wood truckling for copper halfpence, and after their
benefactors were gone spitting out injuries and curses.
*'But," said 1, "I trust that none of us will fall so low.
As a Frenchman and a soldier, I owe that young child grati-
tude, and am bound to protect her character, and to sup-
port that of the army. You are my elder and my superior :
tell me if I am not right."

He was a quiet-mannered old fellow, and patted me with
three fnigers on the back. " C'est Men, moii enfant," says
he, and returned to his committee.

Goguelat was no more accommodating than myself. '' 1
do not like apologies nor those that make them," was his
only answer. And there remained nothing but to arrange
the details of the meeting. So far as regards place and
time, we had no choice ; we must settle the dispute at
night, in the dark, after a round had passed by, and in the
open middle of the shed under which we slept. Tlie ques-
tion of arms was more obscure. We had a good many
tools, indeed, which we employed in the manufacture of our
toys ; but they were none of them suited for a single com-
bat between civilised men, and, being nondescript, it was
found extremely hard to equalise the chances of the com-
batants. At length a pair of scissors was unscrewed ; and
a couple of tough wands being found in a corner of th
courtyard, one blade of the scissors was lashed solidly to each
with resined twine — the twine coming I know not whence.

ST. IVES

li.-l

but the resin from the green pillars of tlie shed, whioli still
sweated from the axe. It was a strange thing to feel in
one's hand this weapon, which was no heavier than a rid-
ing-rod, and which it was difficult to suppose would prove
more dangerous. A general oath was administered and
taken, that no one should interfere in the duel nor (sup-
pose it to result seriously) betray the name of the survivor.
And with that, all being then ready, we composed ourselves
to await the moment.

The evening fell cloudy ; not a star was to be seen when
the first round of the night passed through our shed and
wound off along the ramparts ; and as we took our places,
we could still hear, over the murmurs of the surrounding
city, the sentries challenging its further passage. Leclos,
the sergeant-major, set us in our stations, engaged our
wands, and left us. To avoid blood-stained clothing, my
adversary and I had stripped to the shoes ; and the chill of
the night enveloped our bodies like a wet sheet. The man
was better at fencing than myself ; he was vastly taller than
I, being of a stature almost gigantic, and proportionately
strong. In the inky blackness of the shed, it was impos-
sible to see his eyes ; and from the suppleness of the wands,
I did not like to trust to a parade. I made up my mind
accordingly to profit, if I might, by my defect ; and as
soon as tne signal should be given, to throw myself down
and lunge at the same moment. It was to play my life
upon one card : should I not mortally wound him, no de-
fence would be left me ; what was yet more appalling, I
thus ran the risk of bringing my own face against his
scissor with the double force of our assaults, and my face
and eyes are not that part of me that I would the most
readily expose.

" Allez ! " said the sergeant-major.

Both lunged in the same moment with an equal fury,

A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS

and but for my mananivre both had certainly been spitted.
As it was, he did no more tlian strike my slioulder, while
my scissor plunged below the girdle into a mortal par^ ;
and that great bulk of a man, falling from his whole
height, knocked me immediately senselcos.

When I came to myself, I was laid in my own sleeping-
place, and could make out in the darki-C!^-: the outline of
l)crhaps a dozen heads crowded around me. I sat up.
"What is it?" I exclaimed.

" Hush ! " said the sergeant-major. " Blessed be (iod,
all is well." I felt him clasp my hand, and there were
tears in his voice. '' 'Tis but a scratch, my child ; here is
papa, who is taking good care of you. Your shoulder is
bound up ; we have dressed you in your clothes again, and
it will all be well."

At this I began to remember. ** And Goguelat ? " I
gasped.

" He cannot bear to be moved ; he has his bellyful ; 'tis
a bad business," said the sergeant-major.

The idea of having killed a man with such an instru-
ment as half a pair of scissors seemed to turn my stomach.
I am sure I might have killed a dozen with a firelock, a
sabre, a bayonet, or any accepted weapon, and been visited
by no such sickness of remorse. And to this feeling every
unusual circumstance of our rencounter, the darkness in
which we had fought, our nakedness, even the resin on
the twine, appeared to contribute. I ran to my fallen
adversary, kneeled by him, and could only sob his name.

He bade me compose myself. " You have given me the
key of the fields, comrade," said he. " Sans rancnne ! "

At this my horror redoubled. Here had we two expa-
triated Frenchmen engaged in an ill-regulated combat like
the battles of beasts. Here was he, who had been all his
life 0 great a ruffian, dying in a foreign land of this igno-

ST. IVES

be injury, and meeting doatli with something of tlie spirit
of a Bayard. I insisted that tlie gnards should be sum-
.none.1 and a doctor brought. - It may still be possible
to save hini, ' 1 cried.

The sergeant-major reminded me of our engagement.

If you Inid been wounded," said he, "you must have
hiin there tdl the patrol came bv and found you It han
pens to be (Jogueiat-and so must he ! Conie, child, time
to go to by-by. And as I still resisted, '« Champdivers ! "
Jie saui, " this is weakness. Y^ou pain nic."

-Ay, off to your beds with you .'"said fioguelat, and
named us in a company with one of his jovial gross
e])ithets. °

Accordingly the squad lay down in the dark and simu-
lated, what they certainly were far from ex])eriencing,
s eep. It was not yet late. The city, from Iv below and
all around us, sent up a sound of wheels and feet and
lively voices. Yet awhile, and the curtain of the cloud
was rent across, and in the space of sky between the eaves
of the shed and the irregular outline of the ramparts a
mu titude of stars apj.eared. Meantime, in the midst of
us lay Goguelat, and could not always withhold himself
irom groaning.

We heard the round far off; heard it draw slowly nearer.
Last of all, it turned the corner and moved into our field
of vision : two file of men and a corporal with a lantern,
which he swung to and fro, so as to cast its light in the
recesses of the yards and sheds.

"Hullo!" cried the corporal, pausing as he came by
Goguelat. ''

He stooped with his lantern. All our hearts were fly-
ing. J

J' What devil's work is this ?" he cried, and with a star-
tling voice summoned the guard.

A TALE OF A PAIK OF SCISSORS

We were all afoot upon tlio instant ; more lanterns and
soldiers crowded in front of the shed ; an officer elbowed
his way in. In the midst was the big naked body, soiled
with blood. Some one had covered him with his blanket ;
but as he lay there in agony, he had partly thrown it off.

'* This is murder ! " cried the officer. " You wild
beasts, you will hear of this to-morr. •."

As Goguelat avus raised and laid upon a stretcher, he
cried to us a cheerful and blasphemous farewell.

CHAPTER III

MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY, AND GOGUB-

LAT GOES OUT

There was never any talk of a recovery, and no time
was lost in getting the man's deposition, lie gave but the
one account of it : that he had committed suicide because
he was sick of seeing so many Englishmen. The doctor
vowed it was impossible, the nature and direction of the
wound forbidding it. Goguelat replied tliat he was more
ingenious than the other thought for, and had propped up
the weapon in the ground and fallen on the point— "just
like Nebuchadnezzar," he added, winking to the assistants.
The doctor, who was a little, spruce, ruddy man of an im-
patient temper, pished and pshawed and swore over his
patient. " Nothing to be made of him ! " lie cried. " A
perfect heathen. If we could only lind the weapon ! "
But the weapon had ceased to exist. A little resined twine
was perhaps blowing about in the castle gutters ; some bits
of broken stick may have trailed in corners ; and behold,
in the pleasant air of the morning, a dandy prisoner trim-
ming his nails with a pair of scissors !

Finding the wounded man so firm, yon may be sure the
authorities did not leave the rest of us in peace. No stone
was left unturned. We were had in again and again to be
examined, now singly, now in twos and threes. We were
threatened with all sorts of impossible severities and
tempted with all maimer of improbable rewards. I sup-

MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STOKY 2."5

poso I was five times inturroguted, and came off from eueh
witli flying colours. I am like old Souvaroff, 1 cannot
understand a .s(jldier being taken aback by any question ;
he should answer as lie marclies on the fire with an instant
briskness and gaiety. I may have been short of bread,
gold or grace ; I was never yet found wanting in an an-
swer. My comrades, if they were not all so ready, were
none of them less staunch ; and I may say here at once
that the inquiry came to nothing at the time, and the
death of Goguelat remained a mystery of the prison.
Such were the veterans of France ! And yet I should be
disingenuous if 1 did not own this was a case apart ; in
ordinary circumstances, some one might have stumbled or
been intimidated into an admission ; and what bound us
together with a closeness beyond that of mere comrades
was a secret to which we were all committed and a design
in which all were equally engaged. No need to inquire'as
to its nature : there is only one desire, and only one kind
of design, that blooms in prisons. And the fact that our
tunnel was near done supported and inspired us.

I came off in public, as I have said, witli Hying colours ;
the sittings of the court of inquiry died away like a tune
that no one listens to ; and yet I was unmasked— I, whom
my very adversary defended, as good as confessed, as good
as told the nature of the quarrel, and by so doing prei)arod
for myself in the future a most anxious, disagreeable ad-
venture. It was the third morning after the duel, and
(Toguelat was still in life, when the time came round for
me to give Major Clieveuix a lesson. I was fond of this
occupation ; not that he paid me much— no more, indeed,
than eighteenpence a month, the customary figure, being a
miser in the grain ; but because I liked his breakfasts and
(to some extent) himself. At least, he was a man of edu-
cation ; and of the others with whom I had any opportunity

ST. IVES

of speech, those that would not have held a book upside-
down would have torn the pages out for pipelights. For I
must repeat again that our body of prisoners was excep-
tional : there was in Edinburgh Castle none of that educa-
tional busyness that distinguished some of the other prisons,
so that men entered them unable to read, and left them fit
for high employments. Chevenix was handsome, and sur-
prisingly young to be a major : six feet in his stockings,
well set up, with regular features and very clear grey eyes.
It was impossible to pick a fault in him, and yet the sum-
total was displeasing. Perhaps he was too clean ; he
seemed to bear about with him the smell of soap. Cleanli-
ness is good, but I cannot bear a man's nails to seem ja-
panned. And certainly he was too self-possessed and cold.
There was none of the fire of youth, none of the swiftness
of the soldier, in this young officer. His kindness was cold,
and cruel cold ; his deliberation exasperating. And per-
haps it was from this character, which is very much the
opposite of my own, that .even in these days, when he was
of service to me, I approached him with suspicion and re-
serve.

I looked over his exercise in the usual form, and marked
six faults.

"Il'm. Six," says he, looking at the paper. "Very
annoying ! I can never get it right."

" Oh, but you make excellent progress ! " I said. I would
not discourage him, you understand, but he was congeni-
tally unable to learn French. Some fire, I think, is need-
ful, and he had quenched his fire in soapsuds.

He put the exercise down, leaned his chin upon his
hand, and looked at me with clear, severe eyes.

"I think we must have a little talk," said he.

" I am entirely at your disposition," I replied ; but I
quaked, for I knew what subject to expect.

MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORT 27

" You have been some time giving me these lessons," he
went on, "and I am tempted to think rather well of yon.
I believe yon are a gentleman."

" I have that honour, sir," said I.

" You have seen me for the same period. I do not know
how I strike you ; but perhaps you will be prepared . o be-
lieve that I also am a man of lionour," said he.

" I require no assurances ; the thing is manifest," and I
bowed. '

" Very Avell, then," said he. " What about this Gogue-
lat ? "

" You heard me yesterday before the court," I began.
" I was awakened only "

" Oh yes ; I ' heard you yesterday before the court,' no
doubt," he interrupted, *' and I remember perfectly that
you were 'awakened only.' I could repeat the most of it
by rote, indeed. But do you suppose that I believed you
for a moment ? "

" Neither would you believe me if I were to repeat it
here," said I.

" I may be wrong — we shall soon see," says he ; "but
my impression is that you will not 'repeat it here.' My
impression is that you have come into this room, and that
you will tell me sometliing before you go out."

I shrugged my shoulders.

*' Let me explain," he continued. " Your evidence, of
course, is nonsense. I put it by, and the court put it by."

" My compliments and thanks !" said I.

" You must know — that's the short and the long," he
proceeded. "All of you in Shed B are bound to know.
And I want to ask you where is the common sense of keep-
ing up this farce, and maintaining this cock-and-bull story
between friends. Come, come, my good fellow, own your-
self beaten, and laugh at it yourself."

ST. IVES

'• Wt<ll, 1 hear yon go iilicad," said I. " You put your
heart in \t."

llo crossed liis legs slowly. " I can very well under-
stand," he began, " that precautions have had to bo taken.
I daresay an oath was administered. I can conipreheiul
that perfectly." (He was watching me all the time with
his cold, bright eyes.) "And 1 can comprehend that,
about an affair of honour, you would bo very particular to
keep it."

•• About an affair of honour ? " I repeated, like u man
quite puzzled.

" It was not an affair of honour, then ?" he asked.

'• What was not ? I do not follow," said I.

Jle gave no sign of impatience ; simply sat awhile silent,
and began again in the same placid and good-natured voice :
"The court and I were at one in setting aside your evi-
dence. It could not deceive a child. But there was a
difference between myself and the other officers, because /
knew my man and they did not. They saw in you a com-
mon soldier, and I knew you for a gentleman. To them
your evidence was a leash of lies, which they yawned to
hear you telling. Now, I was asking myself, how far will a
geutlenum go ? Not surely so far as to help liush a murder
np ^ So that— when I heard you tell how you knew noth-
ing of the matter, and were only awakened by the corporal,
and all the rest of it— I translated your statements into
something else. Now, Champdivers," he cried, springing
up lively and coming towards me with animation, " I^'am
going to tell you what that was, and you are going to help
me to see justice done : how, I don't know, for of course you
are under oath— but somehow. Mark what I'm going to
Bay."

At that moment he laid a heavy, hard grip upon my
shoulder; and whether he said anything more or came to

MAJOR CIIEVENIX COMT!;a INTO THE STOUY 29

a full stop at once, I jim sure I could not tell you to this
(lay. For, uh tlio devil would have it, the shoulder he laid
hold of was tlie one CJoguclat had pinked. The wound
was but a scratch ; it was healing with the first intention ;
but in tlio clutch of Major (Jlievenix it gave nic agony.
My head swam ; the sweat poured oil niy face ; I must have
grown deadly pale.

He removed his hand as suddenly as ho had laid it there.

" What is wrong with you ? " said he.

" It is nothing," said I. " A qualm. It has gone by."

''Are you bixtq?" said he. "You are us white as a
sheet."

" Oh no, I assure you ! Nothing whatever. I am my
own man again," I said, though I could scarce command
my tongue.

"Well, shall I go on again ?" says he. "Can you fol-
low me ? "

" Oh, by all means !" said I, and mopped my streaming
face upon my sleeve, for you may be sure in those days I
liad no handkerchief.

" If you are sure you can follow me. That was a very
sudden and sharp seizure," he said, doubtfully. " But if
you are sure, all right, and here goes. An affair of honour
among you fellows would naturally be a little diflficult to
carry out, perhaps it would be impossible to have it wholly
regular. And yet a duel might be very irregular in form,
and, under the peculiar circumstances of the ca:-i0, loyal
enough in effect. Do you take me ? Now, as a gentleman
and a soldier."

His hand rose again at the words and hovered over me.
I could boar no more, and winced away from him. " No,"
I cried, "not that. Do not put vour hand unon my p.]ionl=
der. I cannot bear it. It is rlienmatism," I made haste
to add. " My shoulder is inflamed and very painful."

ST. IVES

'ill

He returned to his chair and deliberately liglited a
cigar.

"I am sorry nboiit your slioulder/ lie said at last.
" Let me send for tlic doctor."

"Nof in the least," said I. *'lt is a trifle. 1 am
quite used to it. It does not trouble me in the smallest.
At any rate, I don't believe in doctors,"

"All right," siiid ho, and sat and smoked a good wliilc
in a silence which I would have given anything to break.
"Well," he began presently, "1 believe there is nothing
left for me to learn. I presume I nuiy say that I know
all."

" A')oi'.t what ?" said I boldly.

" About Goguclat," said he.

" I beg your pardon. 1 cannot conceive," said T.

" Oh," says the major, " the man fell in a duel, and by
your hand ! I am not an infant."

" By no means," said I. , " But you seem to me to be a
good deal of a theorist."

" Shall we test it ? " he asked. " The doctor is ch)se
by. If there is not an open wound on your shouUler, I am

wrong. If there is " He waved his hand. '' Ijut I

advise you to think twice. There is a deuce of a nasty
drawback to the experiment— that what might have re-
mained private -etwecn us two becomes public i)ropcrty."

" Oh, well ! " said I, with a laugh. " anything ratlier than
a doctor ! I cannot bear the breed."

His last words had a good deal relieved me, but I was
still far from comfortable.

Major Chevenix smoked awhile, looking now at his cigar
ash, now at me. _ " Fm a soldier myself," he says presently,
**aud I've been out in my time and hit my man. I don't
want to run any one into a corner for an affair hat was
at all necessary or correct. At the same time, I want to

MAJOR CIIKVENIX COMFg INTO THE fiTOKY 31

know that iiiuoh, and I'll tako your word of honour for it.
Othorwiso, I shall be very sorry, but the doctor must bo
called in,"

" I neither admit anything nor deny anything," I re-
turned. " But if tliis form of words will sunioe you, hero
is what I say : I give ycu my parole, as a gentleman and a
soldier, there has nothing taken place amongst us prisoners
that was not honourable as the day."

" All right," says he. " That was all I wanted. You can
go now, (!hatni)divers."

And as I was going out he added, with a laugh : "By-
thc-bye, I ought to apologise : I had no idea 1 was applying
the torture ! "

The same afternoon the doctor came itito the courtyard
witii a piece of paper in his hand. Ho seemed hot and
angry, and had certainly no mind to bo polite.

" Here ! '' he cried. " Which of you follows knows any
English ? 0!"— spying me— ''there you are, what's your
name ! You'W do. Tell these fellows that the other fel-
low's dying. He's booked ; no use talking ; I expect he'll
go by evening. And tell them I don't envy the feelings of
the fellow who spiked him. Tell them that first."
I did 30.

" Then you can tell 'em," he resumed, " that the fellow,
Goggle— what's his name ?— wants to see some of them be-
fore he gets his marching orders. If I got it right, he
wants to kiss or embrace you, or ime sickening stuff.
Got that "^ Then here's a list he's hvA written, and you'd
better read it out to them— I can't make head or tail of
your beastly names—and they can answer joresew^, and fall
in against that wall."

It was with a singular movement of inoongrnons feelino-s
that I read the first name on the list. I had no wish to
look again on my own handiwork ; my flesh recoilod from

ST. IVES

tho idoii ; and liow conlil I ho snro what roooption he do-
signod to give me ? Tho euro was in my own hand ; I
conld pass that first name over— tho doctor would not
know— and I might stay away. But to tljo subsequent
groat ghidnoss of my heart, I did not dwell for an instant
on tho thongiit, walked over to the designated wall, faced
about, read out the namo " Champdivers," and answered
myself with tho word " Present."

There were some half-dozen on tho list, all told ; and as
soon as wo wore mustered, the doctor led.tho way to the
hospital, and wo followed after, like a fatign- party, in
single tile. At tho door ho paused, told us " tho fel-
low " would SCO each of us alone, and, as soon as I had ex-
plained that, sent mo by myself into the ward. It was a
small room, whitewashed ; a south window stood open on a
vast depth of air aiul a spacious and distant prospect ; and
from deep below, in the Grassmarket, the voices of hawk-
ers camo up clear and far away. lEard by, on a little bed,
lay Goguelat. Tho sunburn had not yet faded from his
face, and the stamj) of death was already there. There was
something wild and unmannish in his smile, that took mo
by the throat ; only death and love know or have ever seen
it. And when ho spoke, ii seemed to shame his coarse talk.
He held out his arms as if to embrace me. I drew near
with incredible shrinkings, and surrendered myself to his
arms with overwhelming disgust. But he only drew my
ear down to his lips.

^ " Trust mo," he whispered. " Je suis Un hougrc, mot.
I'll take it to hell with me, and tell the devil."

Why should I go on to reproduce his grossness and triv-
ialities ? All that he thought, at that hour, was even no-
ble, though he could not clothe it otherwise than in tho
language of a brutal farce. Presently he bade me call the
doctor; and when that officer had come in, raised a little

MAJOR ClIEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 33

np in his bed, pointed first to himself and then to mo
who stood weeping by his side, and several times repeated
the expression, "Frinds—f rinds— dam frinds "

To my great surprise, the doctor appeared very much af-
fec ed. Ho nodded his little bob-wigged iicad at us, and
said repeatedly, " All right, Johnny-me comprong "

Then Goguelat shook hands with me, embraced me
again, and I went out of the room sobbing like an infant

How often have I not seen it, that the most unpardona-
ble fellows make the happiest exits ! It is a fate we may
well envy them. Goguelat was detested in life ; in the last
three days, by his admirable staunchness and consideration
he won every heart ; and when word went about the prison
the same evening that he was no more, the voice of conver-
sation became hushed as in a house of mourning.

For myself I was like a man distracted ; I cannot think
what ailed me : when I awoke the following day, nothing
remained of it; but that night I was filled with a -loomv
fury of the nerves. I had killed him ; he had do°ne his
utmost to protect me ; I had seen him with that awful
smile. And so illogical and useless is this sentiment of
remorse, that I was ready, at a word or a look, to quarrel
with somebody else. I presume the disposition of mv
mind was imprinted on my face ; and when, a little after
1 overtook, saluted and addressed the doctor, he looked
on me with commiseration and surprise.
I had asked him if it was true.
" Yes," he said, " the fellow's gone."
" Did he suffer much ?" I asked.

" Devil a bit ; passed away like a lamb," said he. He

looked on me a little, and I saw his hand go to his fob.

Here, take that ! no sense in fretting," he said, and,

putting a silver twope;m>-bit in my hand, he left me

X should have had that twopenny framed to hang upon

ST. IVES

the wall, for it was the man's one act of charity in all my
knowledge of him. Instead of that, I stood looking at it
in my hand and lauglied out bitterly, as I realised his mis-
take ; then went to tlie ramparts, and flung it far into the
air like blood money. The night was falling ; through an
embrasure and across the gardened valley I saw the lamp-
lighters hasting along Princes Street with ladder and
lamp, and looked on moodily. As I was so standing a
hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I turned about. It
was Major Chevenix, dressed for the evening, and his
neckcloth really admirably folded. I never denied the
man could dress.

" Ah ! " said he, " I thought it was you, Champdivers.
So he's gone ? "

I nodded.

"Come, come," said he, *'you mufit cheer up. Of
course it's very distressing, very painful ,' ndall that. But
do you know, it ain't such a bad thing either for you or
me ? What with his death and your visit to him I am
enti rely rea ssu red . "

So I was to owe my life to Goguelat at every point.

"1 had rather not discuss it," said I.

"Well," said he, "one word more, and I'll agree to
bury the subject. What did you fight about ?"

" Oh, what do men ever fight about ?" I cried.

" A lady ?" said he.

I shrugged my shoulders.

" Deuce you iid ! " said he. "I should scarce have
thought it of him."

And at this my ill-humour broke fairly out in words.
" He ! " I cried. " He never dared to address her — only
to look at her and vomit his vile insults ! She may have
given him sixpence : if she did, it may take him to heaven
yet!"

MAJOR CIIEVENIX COMES INTO THE STOKY 35

At this I became aware of his eyes set upon me with a
considering look, and brouglit u]) sharply.

" Vv'ell, well," said he. ''Good night to you, Champ-
divers. Come to me at breakfust-time to-morrow, and
we'll talk of other subjects."

I fully admit the man's conduct was not bad : in writing
it down so long after the events 1 can even see that it was
good.

'TEfTT- -rrTr- I- irimwi

CHAPTER IV

ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES

I WAS surprised one morning, shortly after, to fiiKl my.
self tlie object of marked consideration by a civilian and
a stranger. This was a man of the middle age ; ho liad a
face of a mulberry colour, round black eyes, comical tufted
eyebrows, and a protuberant forehead ; and was dressed in
clothes of a Quakerish cut. In spite of his plainness, he
li:id that inscrutable air of a man well-to-do in his affairs.
I conceived lie had been some while observing me from a
distance, for a sparrow sat betwixt us quite unalarmed on
the breech of a piece of cannon. So soon as our eyes met,
he drew near and addressed me in the French language,
which he spoke with a good fluency but an abominable
accent.

*• 1 have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur le Vicomte
Anne de Kiiroual de Saint- Yves ?" said he.

" Well." said I, " I do not call myself all that ; but I
liave a right to, if I chose. In tlie meanwhile I call myself
phiin Champdivers, at your disposal. It was my mother's
name, and good to go soldiering with."

*' I think not quite," said he ; '* for if I remember
i'iglitly, your mother also had the particle. Her name was
Florimonde de Champdivers."

" Right again ! " said I, *' and I am extremely pleas-d to
meet a gentleman so well informed in my quarterings. Is
monsieur Born himself ? " This I said with a great air of

ST. IVKS GETS A BUNDLK OF BANK NOTKS 37

assumption, partly to conceul the degree of curiosity with
Mlueli my visitor hud itiHpired me, and in pjirt because it
(Struck mo na higlily incongruous and comical in my prison
giirb and on thc^ Iij)s of a private soldier.

lie seemed to think so too, for he laughed.

" Xo, sir," lie returned, speaking this time in English ;
"I am not ' /yo/v/,' as you cull it, and must content myself
with 'fi/inff, of which r am eciuully susceptible with the
best of you. lAIy name is Mr. Komaino— Daniel Komaine
—a solicitor of London Ci<:y, at your service ; and, wliat
will perhai)s interest you rrore, I am here at the requesi f.f
your great-uncle, the Count."

" What ! " I cried, '^ does M. do Keroual do Saint-Yves
remember the existence of such a person as myself, and will
he deign to count kinship with a soldier of Napoleon ?'*

" You speak English well," observed my visitor.

" It has been a second language to me from a child,"
siiid I. "I had an English nurse ; my father spoke Eng-
lish with me ; and I was finished by a countryman of youra
and a dear friend of mine, a Mr. Vicary."

A strong expression of interest came into the lawyer's
face.

" What ! " he cried, " you knew poor Vicary ?"

"For more than a year," said I; "and shared his hid-
ing-place for many months."

" And I was his clerk, and have succeeded him in busi-
ness," said he. " Excellent man ! It was on the affairs
of M. de Keroual that he went to that accursed country,
from which he was never destined to return. Do you
chance to know his end, sir ? "

" I am sorry," said I, " I do. He perished miserably at
the hands of a gang of banditti, such as we call chaufeurs.
In a word, he was tortured, and died of it. See," I added,
kicking off one shoe, for I had no stocking ; " J was no

ST. IVKS

I'll

more tlian a child, and seo how thoy had begun to treat
myself."

Ho looked at the mark of my old burn with a rertain
shrinkiiiff. "Beastly people!"! heard him mutter to
himsoir.

" The English may say so with a good grace," I observed
politely.

Such speeches were the < oin in which I paid my way
among this credulous race. Ninety per cent, of our vis-
itors would have accepted tho remark as natural \n itself
and creditable to my powers of judgment, but it appeared
my lawyer was more acute.

** You arc not entirely a fool, I perceive," said he.

"No," said I ; " not wholly."

*• And yet it is well to l)vMvare of the ironical mood," ho
continued. " It is a dangerous instrument. Your grcat-
nnclo has, I believe, practised it very much, until it is now
become a problem what ho means."

" And that brings me back to what yon will admit is a
most natural inquiry," said I. "To Avhat do I owe tho
pleasure of this visit ? how d'u] you recognise me ? and how
did you know I was hero ?"

Carefully separating his coat skirts, tho lawyer took a
seat beside me on tlic edge of the Hags.

"It is rather an odd story," says he, "and, with your
leave, I'll answer the second question first. It was from a
certain resemblance you bear to your cousin, M. le Vi-
comte."

"I trust, sir, that I resemble him advantageously?"
said I.

*' I hasten to reassure yon." was the reply : "you do.
To my eyes, M. Alain de St.-Y'ves has scarce a pleasing ex-
terior. *T.iiu yet, wlicu I kiiCv." you were hctc, and. was
actually looking for you — why, the likeness helped. As

ST. IVErf OKTH A BUNDLK OF liANK NOTES 89

for how I carno to know your wliereiil)out8, by an odd
vnoujrh cIiHTice, it \» ii^Min M. Aluiu wo have to thiuik. I
Hlioiild toll you, h(^ lijiH for soino timo iiuidu it Iub liUHinoHs
to koop M. deK(;rouiil iufonued of your ciirocr ; with wluit
l)ur])osc 1 leave you to judge. When he lirst brought the
newsof your— that you were Kerviug Jiuoiui])arte, it Heemed
it might bo the death of tiie old gentlenuin, so liot was'liis
resontuient. Jiut from one thing to another, nuitters have
a little changed. Or 1 should rather say, not a little. We
learned you were under orders for the I 'en insula, to fight
the English ; then that you had been commissioned for a
piece of bravery, and were again reduced to the ranks.
And from one thing to another (as I say), M. do Keroual
became used to the idea that you were his kinsman and yet
served with Buonaparte, and filled instead with wonder
that he should have another kinsman who was so remark-
ably well informed of events in France. And it now be-
came a very disagreeuLlo question, whether the young gen-
tleman was not a spy ? In short, sir, in seeking to disserve
you, he had accumulated against liimself a load of sus-
picions.

My visitor now paused, took snuff, and looked at me
with an air of benevolence.

" Good God, sir ! " says I, " tliis is a curious story."
" You will say so before I have done," said he. *' For
there have two events followed. The first of tliese was an
encounter of 71. de Keroual and M. de Mauseant."

" I know the man to my cost," said I : "it was through
him I lost my commission."
" Do you tell me so ? " he cried. " Why, here is news ! "
" 0, I cannot complain ! " said I. " I was in the
wrong. I did it with my eyes open. If a man gets a pris-
oner to guard and lets him go, tlic least he can expect is to
be degraded."

ST. IV E8

! ;

«■

'You will be paid for it/' said he. "You did well for
yourself and better for your king."

" If I had thought I was injuring my emperor/' said I,
" I would have let M. de Mauseant burn in hell ere I had
helped him, and be sure of that ! I saw in him only a pri-
vate person in a difficulty : I let him go in private charity ;
not even to profit myself will I suffer it to be misunder-
stood."

" Well, well," said the lawyer, " no matter now. This
is a foolish warmth — a very misplaced enthusiasm, believe
me ! The point of the story is that M. de Mauseant spoke
of you with gratitude, and drew your character in such a
manner as greatly to affect your uncle's views. Hard upon
tlie back of which, in came your humble servant, and laid
before him the direct proof of what we had been so long
suspecting. There was no dubiety permitted. M. Alain's
expensive way of life, his clothes and mistresses, his dicing
and racehorses, were all explained : he was in the pay of
Buonaparte, a hired spy, and a man that held the strings
of what I can only call a convolution of extremely fishy
enterprises. To do M. de Keroual justice, he took it in
the best way imaginable, destroyed the evidences of the
one great-nephew's disgrace — and transferred his interest
wliolly to the other."

" What am I xo understand by that ? " said I.

" I will tell you," says he. " There is a remarkable in-
consistency in human nature which gentlemen of my cloth
have a great deal of occasion to observe. Selfish persons
can live without chick or child, they can live without all
mankind except perhaps the barber and the apothecary ;
but when it comes to dying, they seem physically unable
to die without an heir. You can apply this principle for
yourself. Viscount Alain, though he scarce guesses it, ia
no longer in the field. Remains, Viscount Anne."

ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 41

" I see," said I, " you give a very unfavourable impres-
sion of my uncle, the Count."

"I had not meant it," said he. "He has led a loose
life— sadly loose— but he is a man it is impossible to know
and not to admire ; his courtesy is exquisite."

''And so you think there is actually a chance for me ?"
I asked.

''Understand," said he : "in saying as much as I have
done, I travel quite beyond my brief. I have been clothed
with no capacity to talk of wills, or heritages, or your
cousin. I was sent here to make but the one communica-
tion : that M. de Keroual desires to meet his great-
nephew."

" Well," said I, looking about me on the battlements by
which we sat surrounded, " this is a case in which Mahomet
must certainly come to the mountain."

"Pardon me," said Mr. Romaine, "you know already
your uncle is an aged man ; but I have not yet told you
that he is quite broken up, and his death shortly looked
for. ls"o, no, there is no doubt about it— it is the moun-
tain that must come to Mahomet."

" From an Englishman, the remark is certainly signifi-
cant," said I ; " but you are of course, and by trade, a
keeper of men's secrets, and I see you keep that of Cousin
Alain, which is not the mark of a truculent patriotism, to
say the least."

" I am first of all the lawyer of your family !" says he.

" That being so," said I, "I can perhaps stretch a point
myself. This rock is very liigh, and it is very steep ; a
man might come by a devil of a fall from almost any part
of it, and yet I believe I have a pair of wings that might
carry me just so far as to the bottom. Once at the bottom
I am helpless."

"And perhaps it is just then tliat I could step in," re-

ST. IVK8

I i

turned tlie lawyor. ** Siipiioso by some contingoncy, at
wliicli 1 imike no guoss, and on which 1 olTor no opin-
ion

Hut horo I intcrruptod him. " Ono word ero you go
further. 1 am under no parole," saiil 1.

** 1 understood ko nnu-h," he replied, " althougli some
of you French gentry lind their word sit lightly on them."

•* Sir, 1 am not one of those," said I.

*' To do you plain justice, I do not think you one," said
lie. " Suppose yourself, tlien, set free and at the bottom
of the rock," ho continued, " although 1 nuiy not be able
to do much, I believe I can do something to help you on
your road. In the first place 1 would carry this, Avhether
in an inside pocket or my shoe." And he passed me a
bundle of bank notes.

" No harm in that," said I, at once concealing them.

" In the second place," he resumed, " it is a great way
from here to where yonr uncle lives— Amersham l*lace,
not far from Dunstable ; you have a great part of Britain
to get through ; and for the first stages, I must leave you
to your own luck and ingenuity. I have no accpuiintance
here in Scotland, or at least "(with a grimace) "no dis-
honest ones. But farther to the south, about Wakefield,
1 am told there is a gtntlcnnin called Burchell Fenn, who
is not so particular a: sonie others, and might be willing
to ffive von a cast forward. In fact, sir, I believe it's the
man's trade : a piece of knowledge that burns my mouth.
But that is what you get by meddling with rogues ; and
perhaps the biggest rogue now extant, M. de Saint-Yves,
is your cousin, M. Alain."

'• If this be a man of my cousin's," I observed, ** I am
perhaps better to keep clear of him ? "

•* It was through some papers of your cousin's that we
came across his trail," replied the lawyer. " But I am in-

■1

ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 43

dined to think, so far as anytliing is safe in sncli a nasty
biisincsH, you may apply to the man Fcnn. Von might
even, I tiiink, use the Viscount's name ; and the litthi
trick of family resemblance might come in. How, for in-
stance, if you wore to call yourself his brother ?"

" rt might be dono,"said 1. " JJut look here a moment '
You propose to mo a very diHicult game: I have appar-
ently a devil of an o[)|)onent in my cousin ; and being a
lu-isoner of war, I can scarce be said to hold good cards.
For what stakes, then, am I playing ? "

■'Tiiey are very large," said he. - Your great-uncle is
mu!,:>nsely rudi— immensely rich. Ifo was wise in time •
no smelt the revolution long before ; sold all that he could'
and had all that was movable transported to Enghuni
through my firm. There are considerable estates in En--
lund ; Amersham Place itself is very fine ; and he has
much money, wisely invested. He lives, i.uleed, like a
prince. And of what use is it to him ? He has lost all
that was worth living for-his family, his country; he has
seen his king and queen murdered ; he has seen all these
miseries and infamies," pursued the lawyer, with arising
inflection and a heightening colour; and then broke sud-
den y off,-" In short, sir, he has seen all the advantages
of i. at government for which his nephew carries arms,
and ho has the misfortune not to like them."

" You speak with a bitterness that I suppose I must ex-
cuse," said I ; -yet which of us has the more reason to be
bitter? Ihis man, my uncle, M. do Keroual, fled. Mv
parents, who were less wise perhaps, remained. In the
beginning, they were even republicans; to the end, they
could not be persuaded to despair of the people. It was a
glorious folly, for wliich, as a son, I reverence thorn. First
one and then the other perished. If J have any mark of
a gentleman, all who taught me died upon the scaffold

ST. IVES

and my lust school of manners was the prison of the Ab-
baye. Do you think you can teach bitterness to a man
with a history like mine ? "

" I have no wish to try," said he. " And yet there is
one point I cannot understand : I cannot understand thsit
one of your blood and experience should serve the Corsican.
I cannot uno -rstand it : it seems as though everything gen-
erous in you must rise against that — domination."

" And perhaps," I retorted, *' had your cliildhood passed
among wolves, you would have been overjoyed yourself to
see the Corsican Shepherd."

*' Well, well," replied Mr. Romaine, '* it may be. There
are things that do not bear discussion."

And with a wave of his hand he disappeared abruptly
down a flight of steps and under the shadow of a ponder-
ons arch

CHAPTER V

ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE

The lawyer was scarce gone before I remembered many
omissions , and chief among these, that I had neglected to
get Mr. Burcliell Fenn's address. Here was an essential
point neglected ; and I ran to the head of the stairs to find
myself already too late. The lawyer was beyond my view ;
iu the archway that led downward to the castle gate, only
tlie red coat and the bright arms of a sentry glittered in the
shadow ; and I could but return to my place upon the ram-
parts.

I am not very sure that I was properly entitled to this
corner. But I was a high favourite ; nc' an officer, and
scarce a private, in the castle would have turned me back,
except upon a thing of moment ; and whenever I desired
to be solitary, I was suffered to sit here behind my piece of
cannon unmolested. The cliff went down before me almost
sheer,. but mantled with a thicket of climbing trees ; from
farther down, an outwork raised its turret ; and across the
valley I had a view of that long terrace of Trinces Street
whicl) serves as a promenade to the fashionable Inhabitants
of Edinburgh. A singularity in a military prison, that it
should command a view on tJie chief thoroughfare !

It is not necessary that I should trouble you with the
train of my reflections, which turned upon the interview
I liad just concluded and the hopes that were now openin"
before me. AVhat i.s more essential, my eye (even while I

ST. IVES

tliouj,^lit.) kc,)t following tlio niovonuMit of tho i)iis8('"gorfl
on Prinoos Street, as they passi-d briskly to uiid fro—met,
f^reeted. and bowed to oaeh otIuM--— or entiM'ed and loft the
sliops, which are in that (juarter, and, for a town of tho
Mritannic- ])rovin("eH. partieuhirly fino. My miiid b(.in<r
l)nsy upon other thinfrs. the course of my eye was the more
miuiom ; and it chanced that 1 foHowed.'for soiue time, tiie
advance of a young gentleman with a red head and a white
great-coat, for wiiom f cared nothing at the moment, and of
whom it is probable I shall be gathered to ujy fathers with-
out learning uiore. lie seemed to have a large accpuiint-
ance : his hat was for ever in his hand ; and 1 daresay 1 had
already observed him exchangiug compliments with half a
dozen, when he drew up at last before a young man and
a young lady whose tall persons and gallant t-arriage J
thought 1 recognised.

It was impossible at such a distance that I couhl be sure,
but the thought was suHicient. and 1 craned out of the em-
brasure to follow tiiem as long as iiossible. To think that
such emotions, that such a concussion of the blood, may
have been inspired by a chance resemblance, and that I may
have stood and thrilled there for a total stranger ! This
distant view, at least, whetlicr of Flora or of some one else,
changed in a moment the course of my rellcctions. Jt was
all very well, and it M-as highly needful, 1 should see my
nncle ; but an uncle, a great-uncle at that, and one whon"i
I had never seen, leaves the imagimition cold ; and if I
were to leave the castle, I might never again have the op-
portunity of finding Flora. Tho little impression I had
made, even supposing I had made any, liow soon it would
die out ! how soon I should sink to be a phantom memory,
with which (in after days) slie might amuse a husband and
children ! No, the impression must be clenched, the wax
impressed with the seal, ere I left Edinburgh. And at this

ST. IVEH IH HIIOVVN A IIOUHK

ilio two intorosta ilint, woro now conlciKliii^' in my boHoni
cfiino tofroMior and hoojitnn ono. I wiHluid to seo Floni,
ugiiin; iind I wjuitrd sonio oik; to fnrUuir nio in my fli^'lit
and to got mo now dotlics. 'I'he conoliision wuk appiiront.
Kxcopt for porsoiiH in tliogiinison itself, with whom it \vm
a point of honour and military duty to retain mo captive, I
know, in the! whole country of Soothiiid, thiJHo two ah)no.
if it were to ho done at all, they muHt be my liolpcr.y. To
tell them of my doHigned cHca[)o while I waHHtill in honds,
would he to lay before them a most di(Hcult elioico. What
thoymi<,dit (loin Kueh a (!aso, I could not in tho least he
sure of, for (the same case ariHing) 1 was far from sure what
I should do myself. It was plain I must escape first.
When the harm was done, when 1 was no more than a poor
wayside fu-itivo, 1 n)ight apply to them with less oircnce
and more securif.y. To this end it became necessary that
1 should find out where they lived and how to reach it ; and
feeling a strong conndenee that they would soon return to
visit me, I prepared a series of baits with wliich to angle
for my information, It will bo seen the first was good
enough.

Perhaps two days after, Master Ronald put in an ap-
pcaranco by himself. I had no liold upon tlic boy, an(4
pretermitted my design till I should liave laid court to him
and engaged his interest. lie was prodigiously end)ar^
rassed, not liaving previously addressed me otherwise than
by a bow and blushes ; and lie advanced to mo with an air
of one stubbornly performing a duty, like a raw soldier
under fire. I laid down my carving ; greeted him with a
good deal of formality, such as I thought he would enjoy;
and finding him to remain silent, branched off into narra-
tives of my campaigns such as Goguelat himself might
have scrupled to endorse. He visibly thawed and
brightened ; drew more near to where I sat ; forgot his

ST. IVES

i'l'

timidity so far as to put many questions ; and at last, with
another bhish, informed me he was himself expr Mng a
commission.

"Well," said I, "they are fine troops, your British
(roops in the Peninsula. A young gentleman of spirit
may well bo proud to be engaged at the head of siu^h
soldiers."

^ *' I know that," he said ; " I thi. k of nothing else. 1
tliink shame to be dangling here at home and going
through with this foolery of education, while others, no
older than myself, are in the field."

" I cannot blame you," said I. *' I have felt the same
myself."

"There are— there are no troops, are there, quite so
good as ours ? " he asked.

"AVcll," said I, "there is a point aljut them: they
have a defect,— they are not to be trusted in a retreat. 1
have seen them behave very ill in a retre-it."

" I believe that is our national character," hesaid— (Jod
forgive him .'—with an air of pride.

"I have seen your national character running away at
least, and had the honour to run after it ! " rose to my lips,
but I was not so ill advised as to give it utterance. Every
one should be flattered, but boys and women without stint ;
and I put in the rest of the afternoon narrating to him tales
of British heroism, for which I should not like to en<^as:c '
that they were all true. *^ "'

"I am quite surprised," he said at last. " People tell
you the French are insincere. Now, I think your sin-
cerity is beautiful. I think you have a noble character.
I admire you very much. I am very grateful for your
kmdness to— to on so young," and he offered me his
hand,

" I shall see you again soon ? " said I.

ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE

" 0, now ! Yes, very soon," said he. " I-I wish to
tell yon. I would not let Flora— Miss Gilchrist, I mean—
come to-day. I wished to see more of yon myself. I trust
you are not offended : you know, one should be careful
about strangers."

r approved his caution, and he took himself away : leav-
ing me in a mixture of contrarious feelings, part ashamed
to have played on one so gullible, part raging that I should
have burned so much incense before the vanity of Eng-
land ; yet, in the bottom of my soul, delighted to think
I had made a friend— or, at least, begun to make a friend
—of Flora's brother.

As I had half expected, both made their appearance the
next day. I struck so fine a shade betwixt the pride that
18 allowed to soldiers and the sorrowful humility that befits
a captive, that I declare, as I went to meet them, I might
have afforded a subject for a painter. So much was high
comedy, I must confess ; but so soon as my eyes lighted
full on her dark face and eloquent eyes, the blood leaped
into my cheeks— and that was nature ! I thanked them,
but not the least with exultation ; it was my cue to be
mournful, and to take the pair of them as one.

'' I have been thinking," I said, " you have been so good
to me, both of you, stranger and prisoner as I am, that I
have been thinking how I could testify to my gratitude.
It may seem a strange subject for a confidence, but there is
actually no one here, even of my comrades, that knows me
by my name and title. By these I am called plain Champ-
divers, a name to which I have a right, but not the name
which I should bear, and which (but a little while ago) I
must hide like a crime. Miss Flora, suffer me to present
to you the Vicomte Anne de Keroual de Saint- Yves a
private soldier." '

" I knew it I " cried the boy ; " I knew he was a noble ! "

ST. IVKS

i!1^

And I thoiiglit the eyes of Miss Flora said the same, but
more persuasively. All tlirough this interview she kept
them on the gronnd, or only gave them to me for a mo-
ment at a time, and with a serious sweetness.

" You may conceive, my friends, that this is rather a
pninful confession," I continued. " To stand here before
you, viinquished, a prisoner in a fortress, and take my own
name upon my lips, is painful to tiio ])roud. Ami yet 1
Avished that you should know lue. Long after this, Ave may
yet hear of one another — perhaps Mr. (lilchrist and myself
in the Held and from opposing camps— and it would be a
pity if wc hoard and did not recognise."

They Averc both moved ; aiul began at once to press
upon mo offers of service, such as to lend me books, get
me tobacco if I used it, and the like. This would have
been all mighty welcome, before the tunnel Avns ready.
Now it signified no more to me than to offer the transi-
tion I required.

" My dear friends," I said—" for you must allow me to
call you that, who have no others within so many hun-
dred leagues— perhaps you will think me fanciful and sen-
timental ; and perhaps indeed I am ; but there is one ser-
vice that I would beg of you before all others. You see
me set here on the top of this rock in the midst of your
city. Even with what liberty I have, I have the opportu-
nity to see a myriad roofs, and I dare to say thirty leagues
of sea and land, AH this hostile ! Under all these roofs
my enemies dwell ; wherever I see the smoke of a house
rising, I must tell myself that some one sits before the chim-
ney and reads with joy of our reverses. Pardon me, dear
friends, I know that you must do the same, and I do not
grudge at it ! With you, it is all different. Show me your
house, then, were it only the chimney, or, if that be not
visible, the quarter of the town in which it lies I So, when

ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE

I look all about mo, I shall bo ablo to say : ' There in
one house in which I a,n not quite unkindly thought
J'
Flora stood a inomont.

" It is a i)retty thought," said she. - and as far as re-
gards Uonald and mysolf, a truo ono. Con.o, l believe 1
can show you tiie very smoko ou^, of our chimney "

So saying, she carried me round the battlements towards
tile opposite or southern side of the fortress, and indeed to
a bastion almost immediately overlooking the place of our
projected llight. Thence we had a view of some fore-
shortened suburbs at our feet, and beyond of a green, open,
and irregular country rising towards the iVntland Hills
1 le face of one of these summits (say two leagues from
where we stood) is marked with a procession of white
ecars. And to this she directed my attention

" You see the^ marks ? " she said. - We call them the
Seven bisters Follow a little lower with your eye, and
you will see a fold of the hill, the tops of some trees and
a tail of smoke out of the midst of them. That is Swan-
ston Cottage, where my brother and I are living with my
aunt. If it gives you pleasure to see it, I am glad. We
too can see the castle from a corner in the garden, and we
go there in the morning often-do we not. Ronald ?-and
we think of you, M. de Saint-Yves ; but I am afraid it
uoes not altogether make us glad."

- Mademoiselle ! " said I, and indeed my voice was
scarce under command, - if you knew how your generous
words_how even the sight of you-relicN ed the horrors of
his place, I believe, I hope, I know, you would be glad.
I will come here daily and look at that dear chimney and
these green hills, and bless you from the lieart, and dedi-
cate to you the prayers of this poor sinner. Ah ' I do not
say they can avail I "

ST. IVES

I'S;

*' Who can say that, M. de Saint- Yves ?" she said, softly.
" But I think it is time we should be going."

"High time," said Ronald, whom (to say the truth) I
liad a little forgotten.

On the way back, as I was laying myself out to recover
lost ground with the youth, and to obliterate, if possible,
the memory of my last and somewhat too fervent speech,
who should come past us but the major ? I luid to stand
aside and salute as ho went by, but his eyes appeared en-
tirely occupied with Flora.

" Who is that man ? " she asked.

" He is a friend of mine," said I. " I give him lessons
in French, and he has been very kind to me."

"He stared," she said,— "I do not say, rudely; but
why should he stare ? "

"If you do not wish to be stared at, mademoiselle, suf-
fer me to recommend a veil," said I.

She looked at me with what seemed anger. " I tell you
the man stared," she said.

And Ronald added : " 0, I don't think he meant any
harm. I suppose he was just surprised to see us walking
about with a pr— with M. Saint- Yves."

But the next morning, when I went to Chevenix's rooms,
and after I had dutifully corrected his exercise — " I com-
pliment you on your taste," said he to me.

" I beg your pardon ? " said I.

"0 no, I beg yours," said he. "You understand me
perfectly, just as I do you."

I murmured something about enigmas.

"Well, shall I give you tho key to the enigma ?" said
he, leaning back. " That was the young lady whom Go-
guelat insulted and whom you avenged. I do not blame
you. She is a heavenly creature."

" With all my heart, to the last of it ! " said I. " And

ST. IVES IS SnOWN A HOUSE

to the first also, if it amuses you ! You are become so very
acute of late that I suppose yon must have your own
way."

" What is her name ? " he asked.

" Now, really ! " said I. "Do you think it likely she
has told me ? "

•' I think it certain," ^^-'A ! '\

I could not restrain ' ty langh'er. " Well, then, do you
':hink it likely I would tel' you i ' I cried.

** Not a bit," said he. ' But Dme, to our lesson I "

And

n' f

CHAPTER VI

THE ESCAPE

The time for onr escape drew near, and the nearer if

thoushe of by escaping p™„„erV. "in" ]^ I ,"° oUo S
a a o„„„„blo precipice surrounda it, down the fac:
winch (,f anywhere at all) we mnst regain onr liberty
By onr concurrent labonrs in n,any a dark night Jorkf:
with the most anxions precautions against nois we 1 '!
made out to p.crco below the cnrtuin abont the o;^!!
corner, m a place they call the J)etnl'a JlZT t7
never met that celebrity; nor (if the if tl' • T7,
com. npto what thcy^callcd hif ^0^ "the 1 1"
debiie of his acquaintance. From thp hoJl nf f]

r , .! , *°"' "'•""g'lt like an emetic.
...uch°cared""Tt"''"" "" T'" ™' ^ot. and donbt if I

THE ESCAPE

tif I
but
lis

length, indeed, we made a shift to fathom out ; but who
was to tell us how that length compared with the way we
had to go ? Day after day, there would be always some of
us stolen out to the Devil's Elboio and making estimates
of the descent, whether by a bare guess or the dropping of
stones. A private of pioneers remembered the formula for
that— or else remembered part of it and obli;-ngly in-
vented the remainder. I had never any real confidence in
that formula ; and even had we got it from a book, there
were difficulties in the way of the application that might
have daunted Archimedes. We durst not drop any consid-
erable pebble lest the sentinels should hear, and those that
we dropped we could not hear ourselves. We had never a
watch— or none that had a second hand ; and though every
one of us could guess a second to a nicety, all somehow
guessed it differently. In short, if any two set forth upon
this enterprise, they invariably returned with two opinions,
and often with a black eye in the bargain. I looked on
upon these proceedings, although not without laughter,
yet with impatience and disgust. I am one that cannot
bear to see things botched or gone upon with ignorance ;
and the thought that some poor devil was to hazard his
bones upon such premises, revolted me. Had I guessed
the name of that unhappy first adventurer, my sentiments
might have been livelier still.

The designation of this personage was indeed all that
remained for us to do ; and even in that we had advanced
so far that the lot had fallen on Shed B. It had been de-
termined to mingle the bitter and the sweet ; and whoever
went down first, the whole of his shed-mates were to follow
next in order. This caused a good deal of joy in Shed B,
and would have caused more if it had not still remained to
choose our pioneer. In view of the ambiguity in which
we lay as to the length of the rope and the height of the

8T. IVES

prec.p,ce_and that this gentleraa.. was to climb down

from fifty to seventy fathoms on a pitchy uight, on a rZe

enfroly free, and with not so much ^ an infant cMd

o steady .t at the bottom, a little backwardness was per-

aps excusable Bnt it was. in our case, more thin am.

Wl,t „ \fu "' *' T" "" ™"""'"'' '"»»« "bout a
i ™1' 7k ^"7 ""^'5 ""''' P"'- """" 'han once, hors
Castle " " ''^"" "^^ '""^ ""^ »' ^""burgh

AVe discussed it in the dark and between the passage of
the rounds ; and it was impossible for any body XL t„
show a less adventurous spirit. I am sure some ol uTand
myself first among tiie number, regretted Goguelat Some
were persu,«Ied it was sate, and could prove tl» same bv
argument ; but if they had good reasons why some "" else

ot be themselves. Others, agaiu, condemned the whole
dca as insane; among these, as ill-luck would have i
seaman 0 the fleet ; who was the most disspiriting of dl
n 8 height, herem,nde.l us, was greater than the talles
slnpWast the rope entirely free • and he as g d a^ d
fled the boldest and strongest to succeed. We were re-
n^ved from this dead-loek by our sergeant-major of d™-

"Comrades," said he, "I believe I rank you all • and

myself. At the same time, you are to consider what the
hances are thai • may prove to be the last, as well. "
uo longer y„ung-I was sixty near a month ago. Since

&L Mv" """""',[ ''"'^ """"^ '" m^seff a little L-!
dame My arms are all gone to fat. And vou mast prom

:Li°'thtg.'™^ "■^' " ' '"" "^ p'"-^ '""^ "-" '" ™'"e

" We cannot hear of such a thing ! " said I. - M. La-

THE ESCAJ'E

clas is the oldest man here ; and, as such, he should be the
very last to offer. It is plain, we must draw lots."

" No," said M. Laclas ; " you put something else in my
head ! There is one here who owes a pretty candle to the
others, for they have kept his secret. Besides, the rest of
us are only rabble ; and he is another affair altogether.
Let Chumpdivers— let the n, <le go the first."

I confess there was a notable pause before the noble in
question got his voice. But there was no room for choice.
I had been so ill-advised, when I first joined the regiment,
as to take ground on my nobility. I had been often ral-
lied on the matter in the ranks, and had {.assod under the
by-names of Mcuseigncur and IJie Marquis. It was now
needful I should justify myself and take a fair revenge.

Any little hesitation I may have felt passed entirely un-
noticed, from the lucky incident of a round happening at
that moment to go by. And during that interval of si-
lence there occurred something that sent my blood to the
boil. There was a private in our shed called Clausel, a
man of very ugly disposition. He had made one of the
followers of Goguelat ; but, whereas Goguelat had always
a kind of monstrous gaiety about him, Clausel was no less
morose than he was evil-mind"d. He was sometimes called
the Ge7ieral, and sometimes by a name too ill-mannered
for rej)etition. As we all sat lislsning, this man's hand
was laid on my shoulder, and his voice whispered in my
ear : " If you don't go, I'll have you hanged. Marquis !"

As soon as the round was past—" Certainly, gentlemen ! "
said I. " I will give you a lead, with all the pleasure iu
the world. But, first of all, there is i hound here to be
punished. M. Clausel has just insulted me, and dishon-
oured the French army ; and I demand that he run the
gauntlet of this shed."

There was but one voice asking what he had done, and.

ST. IVES

as soon as I had told tliem, but one voice agreeing to the
pnnisliment. The General ^^as, in consequence, extremely
roughly handled, and the next day was congratulated by
all who saw him a his netv decoralions. It was lucky for
us that he was one of the prime movers and believers in our
project of escape, or he had certainly revenged himself by
a denunciation. As for his feelings towards myself, they
appeared, by his looks, to surpass humanity ; and I made
up my mind to give him a wide berth in the future.

Had I been to go down that instant, I believe I could
have carried it well. Bui it was already tr.o late-the day
was at hand. The rest had still to l' .ummoned. Nor
was this the extent of my misfortune ; for the next night
and tlie niarht after, were adorned with a perfect galaxy of
stars, and showed every cat that stirred in a quarter of a
imle. During this interval, I have to direct your sympa-
thies on the Vicomte de Saint- Yves ! All addressed me
softly, like folk round a sick-bed. Our Italian corporal,
who had got a dozen of oysters from a fishwife, laid ^,heni
at my feet, as though I were a Pagan idol ; and I have
never since been wholly at my ease in the society of shell-
fish. He who was the best of our carvers brought me a
snuff-box, which he had just completed, and which, while
It was yet in hand, he had often declared he would not
part with under fifteen dollars. I believe the piece was
worth the money too ! And yet the voice stuck in my
throat with which I must thank him. I found myself, in
a word, to be fed up like a prisoner in a camp of anthro-
pophagi, and honoured like the sacrificial bull. And
what with these annoyances, and the risky venture imme-
diately ahead, I found my part a trying one to play.

It was a good deal of a relief when the third evening
closed about the castle with volnmas of sen-fc^ T^- lia-h*^
of Friuces btreet sometimes disappeared, sometimes blinked

THE ESCAPE

across at ns no brighter than tlie eyes of cats ; and five steps
from one of the hinterns on the ramparts it was ah-eady
groping dark. Wo made haste to lie down. Had our
jadors been upon the watcli, they must have observed our
conversation to die out unusually soon. Yet I doubt if
any of ns slept. Each lay in his place, tortured at once
with the hope of liberty and the fear of a hateful death.
J he guard call sounded ; the hum of the town declined by
little and little. On all sides of us, in their ditferent quar-
ters, we could hear the watchmen cry the hours along the
street. Often enough, during my stay in England, have I
listened to these gruff or broken voices ; or perhaps gone
to my window Avhen I lay sleepless, and watched the old
gentleman hobble by upon the causeway with his cape and
his cap, his hanger and his rattle. It was ever a thought
With me how differently that cry would re-echo in the
chamber of lovers, beside the bed of death, or in the con-
demncd cell. I might be said to hear it that night myself
m the condemned cell ! At length a fellow with a voice
like a bull's began to roar out in the opposite thoroughfare :
'* Past yin o'cloak, and a dark, haary moarnin'."
At which we were all silently afoot.
As I stole about the battlements towards the— gallows, I
was about to write-the sergeant-major, perhaps doubtful
of my resolution, kept close by me, and occasionally prof-
fered the most indigestible reassurances in my ear. At
last I could bear them no longer.

" Be so obliging as to let me be ! " said I. " I am
neither a coward nor a fooi. What do you know of
whether the rope be long enough ? But I th.H know it
in ten minutes ! "

The good old fellow laughed in his moustache, and pat-
ted me. ^

It was all very well to show the disposition of my temper

->u\

ST. JVES

before a friend alone ; before my assembled comrades the
thing liad to go handscnely. It was then my time to
come on the stage ; and 1 hope I took it handaomelv.

*' Now, gentlemen/' said I, " if the rope is ready, hero
is the criminal ! "

The tunnel was cleared, tlic stake driven, the rope ex-
tended. As I moved forward to the place, many of my
comrades caught me by the hand and wr uig ;fc, nn atten-
tion I could well ha\e done witliout,

" Keep m eye on Olausel !" I whispered to Lad.>,s; ai.d
with that, got down on my elbows and knees, took Ll.c
rope in both haids, and worked myself, feet foremost,
through the tinsne]. When the earth failed under my
feet, I thought ^!:\^; bearr, would have stopped; and a mo-
ment after I waa demeaning myself in mid-air like a
drunken jumping-jack. I have nevei' been a model of
piety, but at this juncture prayers and a cold sweat burst
from me simultaneously.

The line was knotted at intervals of eighteen inches ;
and to the inexpert it may seem as if it should have been
even easy to descend. The trouble was, this devil of a
piece of rope appeared to be inspired, not with life alone,
but with a personal malignity against myself. It turned to
the one side, paused for a moment, and then spun me like
a toasting-jack to the other ; slipped like an eel from the
clasp of my feet ; kept me all the time in the most out-
rageous fury of exertion; and dashed me at intervals
against the face of the rock. I had no eyes to see with ;
and I doubt if there was anything to see but darkness. I
must occasionally have caught a gasp of breath, but it was
quite unconscious. And the whole forces of my mind
were so consumed with losing hold and getting it agrin,
that I could scarce have told whether I was going : oi
coming dovvn.

L'SpJ

THE ESCAPE

ail

Of a sudden I knocked against the cliff witli such a
thump as alniost bereft me of my sense ; and, as reason
twinkled back, I was amazed to find that I was in a state
of rest, that the face of the precipice here inclined out-
wards at an angle which relieved me almost wholly of the
burthen of my own weight, and that one of my feet was
safely planted on a ledge. I drew one of the sweetest
breaths in my experience, hugged myself against the rope,
and closed my eyes in a kind of ecstasy of relief. It occurred
to me next to see how far I was advanced on my unlucky
journey, a point on which I had not a shadow of a guess I
looked up : there was nothing above me but the blackness
o± the night and the fog. I craned timidly forward and
looked down. There, upon a floor of darkness, I beheld a
certain pattern of hazy lights, some of them aligned as in
thoroughfares, others standing apart as in solitary houses ;
and before I could well realise it, or had in the least esti-
mated my distance, a wave of nausea and vertigo warned
me to he back and close my eyes. In this situation I had
really but the one wish, and that was something else to
think of ! Strange to say, I got it : a veil was torn from
my mind, and I saw what a fool I was-what fools we had
all been_and that I had no business to be thus dangling
between earth and heaven by my arms. The only thino- to
have done was to have attached me to a rope and lowered
me, and I had never the wit to see it till that moment '

1 filled my lungs, got a good liold on my rope, and once
more launched myself on the descent. As it chanced, the
worst of the danger was at an end, and I was so fortunate
as to be never again exposed to any violent concussion,
boon after I must have passed within a little distance of a
bush of wallflower, for the scent of it came over me with
that impression of reality which characterises scents in
darkness. This made me a second landmark, the ledge

ST. IVES

lu-niK nij (irsf,. I boKiUi acconlingly to computo inti-rvnls

of turn : 80 iHuch to tho liMlge. ho inu.^li ngam to tl.o wall-

llowor, ao inucl. m,,,-,. below. If I woro not at the bottom

of tho rock. I caloulatcd 1 imist, bo noar indood to tiic oiul

of tho ropo. and thoro was no doubt that I was not far from

tho ond of my own resonroos. I bo^un to bo li|,'ht-h(<atk"d

and to bo tcMnptod to lot go.—now arguing that I was oor-

tainly arrivod within a fow fi-ot of tho levol and could snfoly

risk a fall, anon porsuadod 1 was still olose at tho top and

It was Idle to eontinuo Umgw on tho rook. In tho midst of

which 1 camo to a bearing on plain ground, and had nearly

wopt uloud. My hands wore as good as flavo.i. my coura>i

entirely exhausted, and, what with tho long straii. and tho

sudden relief, my limbs shook under nu^ with more than

tho violence of ague, and 1 was glad to clii.«,r to tho rope.

But this was no time (o give way. 1 had (by (Jod's sin-
gle mercy) got myself alive out of that fortress ; and now
1 had to try to get the others, my comrades. 'Inhere was
about a fathom of rope to spare ; I got it by tho end, and
searched the whole ground thoroughly for anything to
make it fast to. In vain : the ground was broken and
stony, but there grew not there so much as a bush of
furze.

"Now then," thought I to myself, -here begins a new
lesson, and I believe it will prove richer than the tirst. I
am not strong enough to keep this roi)e extended Jf I do
not keep it extended the next man will be dashed against
the precipice. There is no reason why he should have my
extravagant good luck. 1 see no reason why lio sliould not
fall— nor any place for him to fall on but my head."

From where I was now standing there was occasionally
visible, as tlie fog lightened, a lamp in one of the barrack
windows, which gave me a measure of the height he had
to fall and the horrid force that he luusL strike me with

TFIK BHOAPB

WImf, >VHH .y,,f, wor«n. wo had a^n,o,l in ,Io witl.o.H H,VnuI« •

:;:t:;;;::;-r;r:;:;;rv;" fP'^

.sain. I ba,„ ,L .o'^mlSli^: 'j; S^ ,t

of Ins fall was alrcmly remarked, and tho acntincls at thi'

1 eronnd however, went by, and nothing wa, di«.

, 01 course, child s play; and before there

ST. IVES

lli

were tea of us collertcd, it .....oeJ to me tliat, without tho
least Hijust.ce to my com.udcd, I miglit proceed to take care
of myself.

I knew thoir plan : they had a map and an al.nanack,
and dos^rncl for Grangemouth, where they were to steal a
ship. Suppose them to do so, I )• , ^ '3,1 they were

qnalihed to manage it after it .vas stolen. Tiieir whole
escape, indeed, was the most haphazanl thing imaginahl. •
onythn.a.patienco of captives and the ignorance of pri-
vate so.liers wonhl have entertained so mishegotten a
device; and though I played the good conn-a.le and worke.l
with them upon the tunnel, but for the lawyer's message I
should have let them go without me. Well, now they vvoro
beyond my help, as they had always been beyond my coun-

fl^^iaf' " '^^'""^ '""'^^ ''"^^ °'' ^^^^^« <^'^'^'cn, I stole out
of the lit le crowd. It is true I would rather have waited
to shake hands with Laclas, but ui the last man who had
descended I thought I recognised Clauscl, and since the
seen, in the shod my distrust of Clausel was perfect. I
believed the man to be capable of any infamy, and event.
have since shown that I was right.

CHAPTER VII

8WANST0N COTTAGE

I HAD two vipws. The first was, naturally, to get clear
of Edinbnrgli Custle and tin' town, to say nothing of my
fellow-prisoners ; the second to work to the southward so
long as it was night, and bo near Swanston Cottage by
morning. What I should do there and then, I had no
guess, and did not greatly care, being a devotee of a couple
of divinities called Ciiance and Circumstance. Prepare,
if possible; where it is impossible, work straight forward,
and keep your eyes open and your ton-ue oiled. Wit and
I good exterior— there is all life in a nutshell.

I had at first a rather chequered journey : got involved
in gardens, butted into houses, and had once even the mis-
fortune *o awake a sleeping family, the father of which, as
I snpp menaced me from the window with a blunder-
buss. Altogether, though I had been sonic time gone from
my companions, I was still at no great distance, when a
miserable accident put a period to the escape. Of a sudden
the night was divided by a scream. This was followed by the
sound of someOiing falling, and that again by the reporr,
of a musket from the Castle battlements. It was str .Mge
to hear the alarm spread through the citv. In the fortre!ss
drums were beat and a bell rung backward. On all hands
the watchmen sprang their rattles. Even in that limbo or
no-man's-land where I was wandering, lights were made in
thf^ houses ; sashes were nung up ; I coulu hear neighbour-
5 65

^ !|

BT. IVES

ing families coiivorso from wIthIow to win(lo^v and af
length I WHS clifillouL'CMl myself ' * ""^

Whit's that ? " .Tied n big voice.

cap, leaning Irom u one-pair window ; an.l as I wi n t
oabrea^ofhisho^
s^ver. Mils was not the t ivst time I h-id l...,i f^ i ^

bier «i,„„i,,. i.„iii„g „,.„,„„, „„ „ ,„,.j J „,; t; , 'f ;

"r.t7r " ::^rr" ^"^" -^ -" --nit:;;^

''What liko'8 all this collioshangie ?" said he

1 had never heard of a collieshangie in my days hnt wifl.

"Bedamned!" sayshe.

"0, sir they will be soon taken," I replied • "it h..
been found in time. Good morning, sir r '' ' ^ ^''
'le walk late, sir?" he added.
"0 surely not," said I, with a langh. " Earlvish if

almos ,„,„,„diately through a piece of rtree The e

open r^ /„ ''""I " "•""' P"''' "' "'"> '"'"'<'»'» would b
Th a kM :/f7'^' '" l'"/°--'» »f "igl't gear, talking
witn a kmd of tragic gusto from one to another. Here

the r«tle all the >vh.Ie .onnding nearer; but as I was noi

8WANST0N COTTAGE

walking iiiordinatuly (jnick, us I spoke like a gentlornan,
and tho lamps wore too cliin to show my dress, I carried it
olT once more. One person, indeed, inquired where I was
oir to at that hour.

I replied vaguely and cheerfully, and as I escaped at one
end of this diuigerous pass I could see the watclinum's lan-
tern entering by the other. I was now safe on a dark coun-
try highway, out of sight of lights and out of the fear of
watchmen. Ami yet I had not gone above a hundred yards
before a fellow nuidean ugly rush at me from the roadside.
I avoided him with a leap, and stood on guard, cuirsing my
empty hands, wondering whether I had to do with an otti-
cer or a mere footpad, and scarce knowing which to wish.
My assailant stood a little ; in tho thick darkness I could see
him bob and sidle as though he were feinting at me for an
advantageous onfall. Then lie spoke.

" My goo' f rien'," says he, and at the first word T pricked
my ears, " my goo' frien', will you oblishe me with lil uesh-
ary infamation ? AVhish roa' t' Cramoiid ? "

I laughed out clear and loud, stepi)ed up to the convivi-
alist, took him by the shoulders aiul faced him about,
" My good friend," said I, " I believe I know what is beat
for you much better than yourself, and may (iod forgive
you the fright you have given me ! There, get you gone
to Edinburgh ! " And I gave him a shove, which he obeyed
with the passive agility of a ball, and disappeared incon-
tinently in the darkness down the road by wliich I liad
myself come.

Once clear of tliis foolish fellow, I went on again up a
gradual hill, descended on the other side tlirough the
houses of a country village, and came at last to the bottom
of the main ascent leading to the Pentlands and my des-
tination. J. nixs some "way lip when the fog began to
lighten ; a little farther, and I stepped by degrees into a

ST. IVES

clear starry night, and saw in front of me, and quite dis^
tinct, the summits of the Pentlands, and behind, the val-
ley of the Forth and the city of my late captivity buried
under a lake of vapour. I liad but one encounter-that of
a farm-cart, which I heard, from a great way ahead of me
creakmg nearer in tlie night, and wliich passed me about
the point of dawn like a thing seen in a dream, with two
silent figures in the inside nodding to the horse's steps I
presume they were asleep; by the shawl about her head
and shoulders, one of them should be a woman. Soon by
concurrent steps, the day began to break and the fog to
subside and roll away. The east grew luminous and was
barred with chilly colours, and the Castle on its rock, and
the spires and chimneys of the upper town, took gradual
shape, and arose, like islands, out of the recedino- cloud
All about me was still and sylvan ; the road mounting and
winding, with nowhere a sign of any passenger, the birds
chirping, I suppose for warmth, the boughs of the trees
knocking together, and the red leaves falling in the wind
It was broad day, but still bitter cold and the sun not up'
when I came in view of my destination. A sino-le gable
and chimney of the cottage peeped over the shoulder of the
1"! ; not far off, and a trifle liigher on the mountain, a tall
oh whitewashed farmliouse stood among trees, beside a
lulling brook ; beyond were rough hills of pasture. I be-
tliought me tliat shepherd folk were early risers, and if I
were once seen skulking in that neighbourhood it might
prove the ruin of my prospects ; took advantage of a line
of hedge, and worked myself up in its shadow till I was
come under tlie garden wall of my friends' house The
cottage was a little quaint place of many rough-cast gables
and grey roofs. It had something the air of a ramblin- in»
finitesimal cathedral, the body of it rising in the midst^wo
storeys higli, with a steep-pitched roof, and sending out

SWANSTON COTTAGE

upon all hands (as it were chapter-houses, chapels, and
transepts) one-storeyed and dwarfish projections. To add
to this appearance, it was grotesquely decoriitt'd witli
crockets and gargoyles, ravislied from some niedia>val
church. The place seemed hidden away, being not only
concealed in the trees of the garden, but, on the side on
which I api)roached it, buried as high as the caves by the
rismg of the ground. About the walls of the garden there
went a line of well-grown elms and beeches, tlic first entirely
bare, the last still pretty well covered with red leaves, and
the centre was occupied with a thicket of laurel and holly,
in which I could see arches cut and paths winding.

I was now within hail of my friends, and not much the
better. The house appeared asleep ; yet if I attempted to
wake any one, I had no guarantee it might not prove either
the aunt with the gold eyeglasses (whom I could only re-
member with trembling), or some ass of a servant-maid
who should burst out screaming at sight of me. Higher
up I could hear and see a shepherd shouting to his dogs
and striding on the rough sides of the mountain, and it
was clear I must get to cover without loss of time. No
doubt the holly thickets would have proved a very suitable
retreat, but there was mounted on the wall a sort of sign-
board not uncommon in the country of Great Britain, and
very damping to the adventurous: "Spring Guns and
Man-Traps was the legend that it bore. I have learned
since that these advertisements, three times out of four,
were in the nature of Quaker guns en a disarmed batterv,
but I had not learned it then, and even so, the odds would
not have been good enough. For a choice, I would a hun-
dred times sooner be returned to Edinburgh Castle and mv
corner in the bastion, than to leave my foot in a steel tn:i>
or have to digest the contents of an automatic blunderbuf.J.
There was but one chance left-thet Ronald or Flora might

ST. IVES

5! t'

■ii

be the first to come abroad ; and in order to profit by this
chance if it occurred, I got me on the cope of the wall in
a place where it was screened by the thicli branches of a
beech, and sat there waiting.

As the day wore on, the sun came very pleasantly oat.
I had been awake all night, I had undergone the most vio-
lent agitations of mind and body, and it is not so much to
be wondered at, as it was exceedingly unwise and fool-
hardy, that I should have dropped into a doze. Troni this
I awakened to the characteristic sound of digging, looked
down, and saw immediately below me the back view of a gar-
dener in a stable waistcoat. Now he would appear steadilylm-
mersed in his business ; anon, to my more immediate terror,
he would straighten his back, stretch his arms, gaze about tlio
otherwise deserted garden, and relish a deep pinch of snulf.
It was my first thought to drop from the wall upon the
other side. A glance sufficed to show me that even the way
by which I had come was now cut off, and the field behind
me already occupied by a couple of shepherds' assistants
and a score or two of sheep. I have named the talismans
on which I habitually depend, but here was a conjuncture
in which both were wholly useless. The copestone of a
wall arrayed with broken bottles is no favourable rostrum
and I might be as eloquent as Pitt, and as fascinating as
Richelieu, and neither the gardener nor the shepherd lads
would care a halfpenny. In short, there was no escape
possible from my absurd position : there I must continue
to sit until one or other of my neighbours should raise his
eyes and give the signal for my capture.

The part of the wall on which (for my sins) I was posted
could be scarce less than twelve feet high on the inside •
the leaves of the beech which made a fashion of sheltering
me were already partly fallen : and I was thus not only
perilously exposed myself, but enabled to command some

SWANSTON COTTAGE

part of the garden walks and (under an evergreen arch) the
front lawn and windows of the cottage. For long nothing
stirred except my friend with the spade ; then I heard the
opening of a sash ; and presently after saw Miss Flora ap-
pear in a morning wrapper and come strolling hitherward
between the borders, pausing and visiting her flowers— her-
self as fair. There was a friend; here, immediately beneath
nie, an unknown quantity— the gardener : how to commu-
nicate with tlie one and not attract the notice of the other?
To make a noise was out of the question ; I dared scarce to
breathe. I held myself ready to make a gesture as soon as
she should look, and she looked in every possible direction
but the one. She was interested in the vilest tuft of chick-
weed, she gazed at the summit of the mountain, she came
even immediately below me and conversed on the most fas-
tidious topics with the gardener ; but to the top of that
wall she would not dedicate a glance ! At last she began
to retrace her steps in the direction of the cottage ; where-
upon, becoming quite desperate, I broke off a piece of
plaster, took a happy aim, and hit her with it in the nape
of the neck. She clapped her hand to the place, turned
about, looked on all sides for an explanation, and spying
me (as indeed I was parting the branches to make it the
more easy), half uttered and half swallowed down again
a cry of surprise.

The infernal gardener was erect upon the instant.
" What's your wull, miss ? " said he.

Her readiness amazed me. She had already turned and
was gazing in the opposite direction. " There's a child
among the artichokes," she said.

" The Plagues of Egyp' ! Vll see to them \ " cried the
gardener truculently, and with a hurried waddle disap-
peared among the evergreens.

That moment she turned, she came running towards me,

ST. IVES

i: .!

;■■; §■

her arms stretcAed out, lier face incarnaained for the one
moment with heavenly blushes, the next pale as death.
" Monsieur de Saint-Yves ! " she said.

"My dear young lady," I said, ''this is the damnedest
liberty — I know it ! But what else was I to do ? "

" You have escaped ? " said she.

"If you call this escape/^ I replied.

" But you cannot possibly stop tliere ! " she cried.

"I know it," said I. " And where am I to go ?"

She struck her hands together. "I have it !" she ex-
claimed. "Come down by the beech trunk — you must
leave no footprint in the border — quickly, before Robie
can get back ! I am the hen-wife here : I keep the key ;
you must go into the hen-house — for the moment."

I was by her side at once. Both cast a hasty glance at
the blank windows of the cottage and so much as was visible
of the garden alleys ; it seemed there was none to observe
us. She caught me by the sleeve and ran. It was no time
for compliments ; hurry breathed upon our necks ; and I
rail along with her to tlie next corner of the garden, where
a wired court and a board hovel standing in a grove of
trees advertised my place of refuge. She thrust me in
witliout a word ; the bulk of the fowls were at the same
time emitted ; and I found myself the next moment locked
in alone with half a dozen sitting hens. In the twilight
of the place all fixed their eyes on me severely, and seemed
to upbraid me with some crying impropriety. Doubtless
the hen has always a puritanic appearance, although (in its
own behaviour) I could never observe it to be more partic-
ular than its neighbours. But conceive a British hen !

CHAPTER VIII

THE HEN-HOUSE

I WAS half an hour at least in the society of these dis-
tressing bipeds, and alone with my own reflections and
necessities. I was in great pain of my flayed hands, and
had nothing to treat them with ; I was hungry and
thirsty, and had nothing to eat or to drink ; I was thor-
oughly tired, and there was no place for me to sit. To
be sure there was the floor, but nothing could be imag-
ined less inviting.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, my good-humour
was restored. The key rattled in the lock, and Master
Konald entered, closed the door behind him, and leaned
his back to it. •

"I say, you know ! " he said, and shook a sullen young
head.

"I know it's a liberty," said I.

" It's infernall;y awkward ; my position is infernally em-
barrassing," said he.

'* Well," said I, ''and what do you think of mine ? "

This seemed to pose him entirely, and lie remained gaz-
ing upon me with a convincing air of youth and inno-
cence. I could have laughed, but I was not so inhumane.

"I am in your hands," said I, with a little gesture.
" You must do with me what you think right."

" Ah, yes I " he cried : " if I knew ! "

" You see/' said I, " it would be different if you had r«=

ST. IVES

ceived your commission. Properly speaking, you are not
yet a combatant ; I have ceased to bo one ; and I think it
arguable that we are just iu the position of one ordinary
gentleman to another, where friendship usually comes be-
fore the law. Observe, I only say arguable. For God's
sake, don't think 1 wish to dictate an opinion. These are
the sort of nasty little businesses, inseparable from war,
which every gentleman must decide for himself. If I

were in your place "

" Ay, what would you do, then ? " says he.
''Upon my word, I do not know," said I. " Hesitate,
as you are doing, I believe."

"I will tell you," he said. "I have a kinsman, and
it is what ?ie would think, that I am thinking. It is
General Graham of Lynedoch— Sir Thomas Graham. I
scarcely know him, but I believe I admire him more than
I do God."

"I admire him a good deal myself," said I, '' and have
good reason to. I have fought with him, been beaten,
and run away. Veni, vicfns stim, evasi."

" What ! " he cried. " You were at Barossa ? "
" There and back, which many could not say," said I.
" It was a pretty affair and a hot one, and the Spaniards
behaved abominably, us they usually did in a pitched field ;
the Marshal Duke of Belluno made a fool of himself, and
not for the first time ; and your friend Sir Thomas had
the best of it, so far as there was any best. He is a brave
and ready officer."

" Now, then, you will understand ! " said the boy. '' I
wish to please Sir Thomas : what would he do ?"

" Well, I can tell you a story," said I, " a true one too,
and about this very combat of Chiclana, or Barossa as you
call it. I was in the Eighth of the Line ; we lost the
eagle of the First Battalion, more betoken, but it cost you

THE IIEN-HOUSE

dear. Well, we had repulsed more charges than I care to
count, when your 87th Ilegiment came on at a foot's pace
very slow but very steady ; in front of them a mounted'
officer, his hat in his hand, white-haired, and talking very
quietly to the battalions. Our Major, Vigo-Roussillon, set
spurs to ins horse and galloped out to sahre him, but see-
ing him an old man, very handsome, and as composed as
if he were in a coffee-house, lost heart and galloped back
agu.... Only, yon see, they had been very close together
for the moment, and looked each other in the eyes. Soon
after the Major was wounded, taken prisoner, and carried
into Cadiz. One line day they announced to him the visit
of the General, Sir Thomas Graham. ' Well, sir,' said the
General, taking him by the hand, ^ I think wo were face
to face upon the fieM.' Ir was the white-haired officer ! "
" Ah !'-' cried the boy,_his eyes were burning.
'MVell, and here is the point," I continued. '-'Sir
Thomas fed the Major from his own table from that day,
and served him with six covers."

^^ " Yes, it is a beautiful— a beautiful story," said Ronald.
" And yet somehow it is not the same— is it ? "
" T admit it freely," said I,

The boy stood awhile brooding. " Well, I take my risk
of it," he cried. " I believe it's treason to my sovereign—
I believe there is an infamous punishment for such a crime
—and yet I'm hanged if I can give you up.''

I was as much moved as he. " I could almost beg you
to do otherwise," I said. " I was a brute to come to you,
a brute and a coward. You are a noble enemy ; you will
make a noble soldier." And with rather a happy idea of
a compliment for this warlike youth, I stood up straight
and gave him the salute.

.c^^u"^^ ^""^ * moment confused; his face flushed.
Well, well, I must be getting you something to eat, but

8T. IVES

•}

it will not be for six," he added, with a smile : "only
what we can get smuggled out. Tlicre is my aunt in
the road, you see," and he locked me in again witli the
indignant hens.

I always smile when I recall that young fellow ; an<l
yet, if tlie reader were to smile also, I sliould feel ashamed.
If my son shall be only like him when he comes to that
age, it will be a brave day for me and not a bad one fur
France.

At the same time I cannot pretend that I was sorry
when his sister succeeded in his place. She brought mc
a few crusts of bread and a jug of milk, which she had
handsomely laced with whisky after the Scottish man-
ner.

"I am so sorry," she said : "I dared not bring you
anything more. We are so small a family, and my aunt
keeps such an eye upon the servants. I have put some
whisky in the milk — it is more wholesome so — and Avith
eggs you will be able to make something of a meal. How
many eggs will you be wanting to that milk ? for I must
be taking the others to my aunt— that is my excuse for
being here. I should think three or four. Do you know
how to beat them in ? or shall I do it ? "

Willing to detain her a while longer in the hen-house, I
displayed my bleeding palms; at which she cried out
aloud.

" My dear Miss Flora, you cannot make an omelette
without breaking eggs," said I ; " and it is no bagatelle to
escape from Edinburgh Castle. One of us, I think, was
even killed."

"And you are as white as a rag, too," she exclaimed,
" and can hardly stand ! Here is my shawl, sit down upon
it hore in the corner, and I vvill beat your eggs. See, I
have brought a fork too ; I should have been a good per-

THE HEN-HOUSE

Bon to take care of Jacobites or Covenante' in old days !
You shall have more to eat this evening ; 'onald is to
bring it you from town. "We have money enoi^ . although
no food that we can call our own. Ali, if Ronald and I
kept house, you should not be lying in this shed ! He
admires you so much."

'•' My dear friend," said I, " for God's sake do not em-
barrass me with more alma. I loved to receive them from
that hand, so long as they were needed ; but they are so
no more, and whatever else I may lack — and I lack every-
thing— it is not money." I pulled out my sheaf of notes
and detached the top one : it was written for ten pounds,
and signed by that very famous individual, Abraham New-
lands. " Oblige me, as yon would like me to oblige your
brother if the parts were reversed, and take this note for
the expenses. I shall need not only food, but clothes."

*' Lay it on the ground," said she. " I must not stop
my beating."

"You are not offended ?" I exclaimed.

She answered me by a look that was a reward in itself,
and seemed to imply the most heavenly offers for the fut-
ure. There was in it a shadow of reproach, and such
warmth of communicative cordiality as left me speechless.
I watched her instead till her hens' milk was ready.

"Now," said she, "taste that."

I did so, and swore it was nectar. She collected her
eggs and crouched in front of me to watch me eat. There
was about this tall young lady at the moment an air of
motherliness delicious to behold. I am like the English
general, and to this day I still wonder at my moderation.

" What sort of clothes will you be wanting ? " said she.

" The clothes of a gentleman," said I. " Right or
wrong, I think it is tho part I am best qualified to play.
Mr. St. Ives (for that's to be my name upon the journey)

ST. IVES

f:i

I conceive as rather a theatrical figure, and his muke-up
should be to match.'*

" And yet there is a difficulty/' said she. ' If you got
coarse clothes the fit would hardly matter. Bu f the olothes
of a fine gentleman — 0, it is absolutely necessary that
these should fit ! And above all, with your"— slie paused
a moment — " to our ideas somewhat noticeable man-
ners."

" Alas for my poor manners ! " said T. '' But, my dear
friend Flora, these little noticeabilities are just what man-
kind has to suffer under. Yourself, you see, you're very
noticeable even when you come in a crowd to visit poor
prisoners in the Castle."

I was afraid I should frighten my good angel visitant
away, and without the smallest breath of pause went on to
add a few directions as to stuffs and colours.

She opened bi;; «yes upon me. "0, Mr. St. Ives ! "
she cried—" if ihyJ, o to be your name— I do not say they
would not be h.:oi.v.ng; but for a Journey, do you think
they would be m>iii ? I am afraid "—she gave a pretty
break of laughter— "I am afraid they would be daft-
like!"

''Well, and am I not daft ? " I asked her.
"I do begin to think you are," said she.
" There it is, then ! " said I. " I have been long enough
a figure of fun. Can you not feel with me that perhaps
the bitterest thing in this captivity has been the clothes ?
Make me a captive— bind me with chains if you like— but
let me be still myself. You do not know what it is to be
a walking travesty— among foes," I added, bitterly.

" 0, but you are too unjust ! " she cried. " You speak as
though any one ever dreamed of laughing at you. But no
one did. We were all pained to the heart. Even my aunt
—though sometimes I do think she was not quite in good

THE HEN-HOUSE

taste— you should have seen her and heard her at home !
She took so much in f oresf Every patch in your clothes
made us sorry ; it should have been a sister's work."

"That is what I never had—a sister," said I. "But
since you say that I did not make you laugh "

" 0, Mr. St. Ives ! never ! " she exclaimed. "Not for one
moment. It was all too sad. To see a leman "

,^nug ? " I sug-

" In the clothes of a harlequin, and
gested,

" To see a gentleman in distress, and nobly supporting
it," she said.

" And do you not understand, my fair foe," said I, " that
even if all were as you say— even if you had thought my
travesty were hecoming— I should be only the more anx-
ious, for my sake, for my country's sake, and for the sake
of your kindness, that you should see him whom you have
helped as God meant him to to seen ? that you should
have something to remember him by at least more charac-
teristic than a misfitting sulphur-yellow suit, and half a
week's beard ? "

" You think a great deal too much of clothes," she said.
" I am not that kind of girl."

" And I'm afraid I am that kind of a man," said I.
" But do not think of me too harshly for that. I talked
Just now of something to remember by. I have many of
them myself, of these beautiful reminders, of these keep-
sakes, that I cannot be parted from until I lose memory
and life. Many of them are great things, many of them
are high v ' tues— charity, mercy, faith. But some of them
are trivial enough. Miss Flora, do you remember the day
that I first saw you, the day of the strong east wind ?
Miss Flora, .shall I tell you what you wore ? "

We had both risen to our feet, and she had her hand
already on *he door to go. Perhaps this attitude embol-

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U.i

ST. IVES

dened me to profit by the last seconds of our interview ; and
It certainly rendered her escape the more easy.

''0, you are too romantic!" she said, laughing; and
with that my sun was blown out, my enchantress had fled
away, and I was again left alone in the twilight with the
lady hens.

w ; and

f ; and
id fled
fch the

CHAPTER IX

THREE 13 COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE

The rest of the day I slept in the corner of the hen-
house upon Flora's shawl. Nor did I awake until a light
shone suddenly in my eyes, and starting up with a gasp
(for, indeed, at the moment I dreamed I was still swinging
from the Castle battlements) I found Ronald bending
over me with a lantern. It appeared it was past midnight!
that I had slept about sixteen hours, and that Flora had
returned her poultry to the shed and I had heard her not
I could not but wonder if she had stooped to look at me as
1 slept. The puritan hens now slept irremediably ; and
being cheered with the promise of supper I wished them
an ironical good-night, and was lighted across the garden
and noiselessly admitted to a bedroom on the ground floor
of the cottage. There I found soap, water, razors-^,
offered me diffidently by my beardless host-and an out-
fit of new clothes. To be shaved again without depend-
ing on the- barber of the gaol was a source of a delicious, if
a childish joy. My hair was sadly too long, but I was none
so unwise as to make an attempt on it myself. And in-
deed, I thought it did not wholly misbecome me as it was
being by nature curly. The clothes were about as good as
1 expected. The waistcoat was of toilenet, a pretty piece
the trousers of fine kerseymere, and the coat sat extraor'
dinanly well. Altogether, when I beheld this changeling
m the glass, I kissed my hand to him.
6 81

ST. IVES

" My dear fellow/' said I, " have you no scent V
" Good God, no ! " cried Ronald. " What do you want
with scent ? "

" Capital thing on a campaign/' said I. " But I can do
without."

I Avas now led, with the same precautions against noise,
into the little bow-windowed dining-room of the cottage.
The shutters were up, the lamp guiltily turned low ; the
beautiful Flora greeted me in a whisper ; and when I was
set down to table, the pair proceeded to help me with pre-
cautions that might have seemed excessive in the Ear of
Dionysius.

" She sleeps up there,'' observed the boy, pointing to
the ceiling ; and the knowledge that I was so imminently
near to the resting-place of that gold eyeglass touched even
myself with some uneasiness.

Our excellent youth had imported from the city a meat
pie, and I was glad to find it flanked with a decanter of
really admirable wine of Oporto. While I ate, Ronald en-
tertained me with the news of the city 'ch had naturally
rung all day with our escape : troop .d mounted mes-
sengers liad followed each other forth at all hours and in all
directions ; but according to the last intelligence no recapt-
ure had been made. Opinion in town was very favourable
to us, our courage was applauded, and many professed regret
that our ultimate chance of escape should be so small. The
man who had fallen was one Sombref, a peasant ; he was one
who slept in a different part of the Castle ; and I was thus
assured that the whole of my former companions had at-
tained their liberty, and Shed A was untenanted.

From this we wandered insensibly into other topics. It
is impossible to exaggerate the pleasure I took to be thus
sitting at the same table with Flora, in the clothes of a
gentleman, at liberty and in the full possession of my

THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE

spirits and resources ; of all of which I had need, because
it was necessary that I should support at the same time
two opposite characters, and at once play the cavalier and
lively soldier for the eyes of Konald, and to the ears of
Flora maintain the same profound and sentimental note
that I had already sounded. Certainly there are days
when all goes well with a man ; when his wit, his diges-
tion, his mistress are in a conspiracy to spoil him, and even
the weather smiles upon his wishes. I will only say of my-
self upon that evening that I surpassed my expectations,
and was privileged to delight my hosts. Little by little
they forgot their terrors and I my caution ; until at last
we were brought back to earth by a catastrophe that might
very easily have been foreseen, but was not the less aston-
ishing to us when it occurred.

I had filled all tlie glasses. " I have a toast to propose,''
I whispered, " or rather three, but all so inextricably in-
terwoven tha. they will not bear dividing. I wish first to
drink to the health of a brave and therefore a generous en-
emy. He found me disarmed, a fugitive and helpless.
Like the lion, he disdained so poor a triumph ; and when
he might have vindicated an easy valour, he preferred to
make a friend. I wish that we should next drink to a
fairer and a mor<^ tender foe. She found me in prison ;
she cheered me with a priceless sympathy ; what she has
done since, I know she has done in mercy, and I only pray
— I dare scarce hope — her mercy may prove to have been
merciful. And I wish to conjoin with these, for the first
and perhaps the last time, the health— and I fear I may
already say the memory— of one who has fought, not
always without success, against the soldiers of your nation ;
but who came here, vanquished already, only to be van-
quislied again by the loyal hand of the one, by the unfor-
gettable eyes of the other."

ST. IVES

It is to be feared I may have lent at times a certain
resonancy to my voice ; it is to be feared that Ronald,
who was none the better for his own hospitality, may ha^ .*
set down his glass with something of a clang. Whatever
may have been the cause, at least, I had scarce finished
my compliment before we were aware of a thump upon the
ceiling overhead. It was to be thought some very solid
body had descended to the floor from the level (possibly) of
a be^:. I have never seen consternation painted in more
lively colours than on the faces of my hosts. It was pro-
posed to smuggle me forth into the garden, or to conceal
my form under a horsehair sofa which stood against the
wall. For the first expedient, as was now plain by the ap-
preaching footsteps, there was no longer time ; from the
second I recoiled with indignation.

" My dear creatures," said I, " let us die, but do not
let us be ridiculous."

The words were still upon my lips when the door opened
and my friend of the gold eyeglass appeared, a memorable
figure, on the threshold. In one hrnd she bore a bedroom
candlestick ; in the other, with the steadiness of a dra-
goon, a horse-pistol. She was wound about in shawls
which did not wholly conceal the candid fabric of her
nightdress, and surmounted by a nightcap of portentous
architecture. Thus accoutred, she made her entrance ;
laid down the candle and pistol, as no longer called for ;
looked about the room with a silence more eloquent tlian
oaths ; and then, in a thrilling voice—" To whom have I
the pleasure ? " she said, addressing me with a ghost of a bow.
" Madam, I am charmed, I am sure," said I. " The
story is a little long ; and our meeting, however welcome,
was for the moment entirely unexpected by myself. I am

sure " but here I found I was quite sure of nothing, and

tried again. "I have the honour," I began, and found I had

THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE

the honour to be only exceedingly confused. With that, I
threw myself outright upon her mercy. " Madam, I must
be more frank with you," I resumed. " You have already
proved your charity and compassion for tlie French pris-
oners. I am one of these ; and if my appearance be not
too much changed, you may even yet recognise in me that
Oddity who had the good fortune more than once to make
you smile."

Still gazing upon me through her glass, she uttered an
uncompromising grunt ; and then, turning to her niece—
" Flora," said she, " how comes he here ? "

The culprits poured out for a while an antiphony of ex-
planations, which died out at last in a miserable silence.

" I think at least you might have told your aunt," she
snorted.

*' Madam, *' I interposed, " they were about to do so. It
is my fault if it be not done already. But I made it my
prayer that your slumbers might be respected, and this nec-
essary formula of my presentation should be delayed until
to-morrow in the morning."

The old lady regarded me with undissembled incredulity,
to which I was able to find no better repartee than a pro-
found and I trust graceful reverence.

" French prisoners are very well in their place," she
said, '' but I cannot see that their place is in my private
dining-room."

" Madam," said I, '' I hope it may be said without of-
fence, but (except the Castle of Edinburgh) I cannot think
upon the spot from which I would so readily be absent."

At this, to my relief, I thought I could perceive a ves-
tige of a smile to steal upon that iron countenance and to
be bitten immediately in.

"And if it is a fair question, what do they call ye ?" she
asked.

ST. IVES

yonr service, the Vicomte Anne de St. -Yves,"

"At
said I.

** Mosha the Viscount/' said she, " I am afraid you do
us plain people a great deal too much honour,"

" My dear lady," said I, " let us be serious for a moment.
What was I to do ? Where was I to go ? And how can
you be angry with these benevolent children, who took
pity on one so unfortunate as myself ? Your humble ser-
vant is no such terrific adventurer that you should come
out against him Avith horse-pistols and"— smiling— ''bed-
room candlesticks. It is but a young gentleman in ex-
treme distress, hunted upon every side, and asking no
more than to escape from his pursuers. I know your char-
acter, I read it in your face"— the heart trembled in my
body as I said these daring words. " There are unhappy
English prisoners in France at this day, perhaps at this
hour. Perhaps at this hour they kneel as I do ; they take
the hand of her who might conceal or assist them ; they
press it to their lips as I do "

" Here, here ! " cried the old lady, breaking from my
solicitations. " Behave yourself before folk ! Saw ever
any one the match of that ? And on earth, my dears, what
are we to do with him ?"

" Pack him off, my dear lady," said I : " pack off the
impudent fellow double-quick ! And if it may be, and yonr
good heart allows it, help him a little on the way he has
to go."

" What's this pie ? " she cried stridently. " Where iai
this pie from, Flora ? "

No answer was vouchsafed by my unfortunate and (I
may say) extinct accomplices.

"Is that my port?" she pursued. "Hough! Will'
somebody give me a glass of my port wine ? "

I made haste to serve her.

THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE

She looked at me over the rim with an extraordinary ex-
pression. " I hope ye liked it ?" said she.

** It is even a magnificent wine," said I.

"Awell, it was my father laid it down," she said.
** There were few knew more about port wine than my
father, God rest him ! " She settled herself in a chair with
an alarming air of resolution. " And so there is some par-
ticular direction that you wish to go in ? " said she.

" 0," said I, following her example, *' I am by no
means such a vagrant as you suppose. I have good friends,
if I could get to them, for which all I want is to be once
clear of Scotland ; and I have money for the road." And
I produced my bundle.

" English banknotes ? " she said. " That's not very
handy for Scotland. It's been some fool of an Englishman
that's given you these, I'm thinking. How much is
it?"

"I declare to heaven I never thought to count !" I ex-
claimed. ** But that is soon remedied."

And I counted out ten notes of ten pound each, all in
the name of Abraham Newlands, and five bills of country
bankers for as many guineas.

"One hundred and twenty-six pound fi\ . ' cried the
old lady. *' And you carry such a sum about you, and
have not so much as counted it ! If you are not a thief,
yon must allow you are very thief -like."

" And yet, madam, the money is legitimately mine,"
said I.

She took one of the bills and held it up. ** Is there any
probability, now, that this could be traced ? " she asked.

** None, I should suppose ; and if it were, it would be
no matter," said I. " With your usual penetration, you
guessed right. An Englishman brought it me. It reached
me, through the hands of his English solicitor, from my

ST. IVES

great-uncle, the Comte de Keroual de Saint- Yves, I be-
lieve the richest emigre in London.'*

"I can do no more than take your word for it," said
slie.

''And I trust, madam, not less,'' said I.

" Well," said she, ''at this rate the matter may be feasi-
ble. I will cash one of these five-guinea bills, less the
exchange, and give you silver and Scots notes to bear you
as far as tlie border. Beyond that, Moslia the Viscount,
you will have to depend ujion yourself."

I could not but express a civil hesitation as to whether
the amount would suffice, in my case, for so long a
journey.

"Ay," said she, " but you havenae heard me out. For
if you are not too fine a gentleman to travel with a pair of
drovers, I believe I have found the very thing, and the
Lord forgive me for a treasonable old wife ! There are a
couple stopping up by with the shepherd-man at the farm ;
to-morrow they will take the road for England, probably
by skriegh of day— and in my opinion you had best be
travelling with the stots," said she.

" For Heaven's sake do not suppose me to be so effemi-
nate a character ! " I cried. " An old soldier of Napoleon
is certainly beyond suspicion. But, dear lady, to what
end ? and how is the society of these excellent gentlemen
supposed to help me ?"

"My dear sir," said she, "you do not at all understand
your own predicament, and must just leave your matters
:u the hands of those who do. I daresay you have never
even heard tell of the drove-roads or the drovers ; and lam
certainly not going to sit up all night to explain it to you.
Suffice it, that it is me who is arranging this affair— tha
more shame to me !— and that is the way ye have to go.
Ronald," she eontinuud, " away up-by to the sheplierds ;

THKEE IS COMPANY, AND FOUli NONE

rowst them out of their beds, and imiko it pei-rectly dis-
tinct that Sim is not to leave till he has seen me."

Konald was notliing loath to escape from his aunt's
neiglibourhood, and left the room and tiie cottage with a
silent expedition that was more like flight than mere
obedience. Meanwhile the old lady turned to her niece.

" And I would like to know what we are to do with him
the night ! " she cried.

"Ronald and I meant to put him in the hen-house/'
said the encrimsoned Flora.

" And I can tell you he is to go to no such a place," re-
plied the aunt. " Ilen-house, indeed ! If a guest he is to
be, he shall sleep in no mortal hen-house. Your room is
the most fit, I think, if he will consent to occupy it on so
great a suddenty. And as for you, Flora, you shall sleep
with me."

I could not help admiring the prudence and tact of this
old dowager, and of course it was not for me to make objec-
tions. Ere I well knew how, I was alone with a flat candle-
stick, which is not the most sympathetic of companions,
and stood studying the snuff in a frame of mind between
triumph and chagrin. All had gone well with my flight :
the masterful lady who had arrogated to herself tiie arrange-
ment of the details gave me every confidence ; and I saw
myself already -a .iving at my uncle's door. But, alas ! it
WHS another story with my love affair. I had seen and
spoken with her alone ; I had ventured boldly ; I had been
not ill received ; I had seen her change colour, had enjoyed
the undissembled kindness of her eyes; and now, in a
moment, down comes upon the scene that apocalyptic fig-
ure with the nightcap and the horse-pistol, and with the
very wind of her coming behold me separated from my
love ! Gratitude and admiration contended in my breast
with the extreme of natural rancour. My appearance in

ST. IVES

her honse at past midnight had an air (I could not disguise
It rom mysel ) that was insolent and underhand, and fould
Ld Lk™ "r ,1 '"r,"'" """'' '"'Viohn^. And the old lad,

qnestion than hor courage, and I was afraid that her
" telhgence would be found to nu.tch. Certainly Miss

...d been rouble.1. I could see but the one way before me ■
to proflt by an exeelleut bed, to try to sleep soon to be
8 .mug early, and to hope for some renewed oZ'i™ in
the monnng. To have said so much and yet to sr Z
".ore, to go out into the world upon so half-hearted a part"
.ug, was more than I could accept ^

It Is ray belief that the benevolent fiend sat up all night
to oaulk me. She was at my bedside with a candle W

"tdte'dt tl "° '';":'' '"^ ""•" («■'"«•' «re wholly
Misuited to ho journey) in a bundle. ,Sore grudgiuir I

■ZclclZ: i" r 'f "i """^ ^""""■^ fabric! as lllitt
.iss.ckcloth and about as becoming as a sl.roud • and nn

oom,„g fortl,, found the dn.gon had prepa d for i™

out the tea, and entertained me as I ate with a great deal
of good sense and a conspicuous lack of charm. iC often
dul I not regret the change !_how often compare hir, and

But if my entertamer was not beautiful, she had certainly

eatio, with ray destnied fellow-travellers ; and the device
on wh.ch she had struck appeared entirely suitable I was
a young Engl shman who had outrun the constable ; wir
rante were out against me in Scotland, and it bad beelrae

prTvaWy ""^^ *' """" """'■'* '»'■ <" «- »»^

THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE Jl

-wifipirn ^'''" ' ^^'•y good account of you," s.id she,
wh.cli I hope you may justify. I told them there was
nothing against yo.i beyond the fact that you were put to
the haw (,f fhat is the right word) for debt "

s.id \'"'"T.?'l ^'" 1'"'' ^^'' cx,>ression incorrectly, ma'am,"
H.X I. [do not g,ve myself out for a person easily
"iH.mod ; bu you must adn.it there isson.ething barbarous
and medueval .n the sound well cpudilied to startle a poo
foreigner. '■

" It is the name of a process in Scots Law, an.l need
H arm no honest man," sai<l she. •' Hut you are a very
idle-minded young gentleman ; you must still have your
joke, 1 see : I only hope you will have no cause to regret

-I pray yon not to suppose, because I speak lightly,
tha I do not feel deeply," said I. -Your kindnets has
quite conquered me; I lay myself at your disposition, I
beg you to believe, with real tenderness ; I pmy you to
Mends'" "'' ^'""^ l^enceforth as tl. most devoted of your

-Well, well " she said, ^ here comes your devoted friend
the droveI^ I m thinking he will be eager for ^he road ;
and I will not be easy myself till I see you well off the
premises, and the dishes washed, before my servant-woman

:tt:-sC;r ' '-- '-'- ^^^*- -^ ^^^^ ^« ^ ^--e

The morning was already beginning to be blue in the

t\r . ! .^^"^'"' '^"^ *° P"* *« «^^ame the candle by
which I had breakfasted. The lady rose from table, and I
had no choice but to follow her example. All the time I
was beating my brains for any means by which I should be
able to get a word apart with Flora, or find the time to
write her a billet. The windows Lad been open while I
breakfasted, I suppose to ventilate the room from any traces

Is '
III !'

ST. IVES

Of my passage tlioro ; and. Master Ronald appearing on the
front lawn, my ogre leaned forth to address him

"Ronald," she said, - wasn't that Sim that went by the
wall ? ''

Isnatched myadvantage. Right atherback there was pen,
ink, and paper laid out. I wrote : - I love you " ; and before
1 iiad time to write more, or so much as to blot what I had
written, I was again under the guns of the gold eyeglasses.
Its time," she began ; and then, as she observed mv
occupation, -Umph ! " she broke olf. -Ye have some-
thing to write ? " she demanded.
" Some notes, madam," said I, bowing with alacrity.
" A otes," she said ; " or a note ? "
"There is doubtless mmo finesse of the English language
that I do not comprehend," said I.

" I'" contrive, however, to make my meaning very plain
to ye, Mosha le Viscount," she continued. "I suppose
you desire to be considered a gentleman ? "

" Can you doubt it, madam ?" said I.
_ "I doubt very much, at least, whether you go to the
right way about it," she said. " You have come here to
me, I cannot very well say how ; I think you will admit
you owe me some thanks, if it was only for the breakfast I
made ye. But what are you to me ? A waif young man
not so far to seek for looks and manners, with some Eng^
hsh notes in your pocket and a price upon you. head. I
am a lady ; I have been your hostess, with however little

' '''"'1 ^ '^f "'^ ^^'""^ <^'"« ^''"^^loni acquaintance of yours
with my family will cease and determine."

I believe I must have coloured. - Madam," said I, - the
notes ai-e of no importance ; and your least pleasure ought
certainly to be my law. You have felt, and you have been
P^oa^od to express, a doubt of me. I tear them up."
Which you may be sure I did thoroughly.

THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUU NONE

" There's a good lud ! " said the dragon, and immediately
led the way to the front lawn.

The brother and sister were both waiting us here, and, as
well as I could make out in the imjjerfect light, bore every
appearance of having passed through a rather cruel experi-
ence. Ronald seemed ashamed to so much as catch my
eye in the presence of his aunt, and was the picture of em-
barrassment. As for Flora, she had scarce the time to cast
me one look before the dr, -on took her by the arm, and
began to march across <^^he garden in the extreme first glim-
mer of the dawn wit., t exchanging speech. Kojiald and
I followed in equal silence.

There was a door in that same high wall on the top of
whicli I had sat perched no longer gone than yesterday
morning. This the old lady set open with a key ; and ou
the other side we were aware of a rough-looking, thick-set
D.an, leaning with his arms (through which was passed a
formidable staff) on a dry-stone dyke. Ilim the old lady
immediately addressed.

"Sim," said she, ''this is the young gentleman."
Sim replied with an inarticulate grumble of sound, and
a movement of one arm and his head, which did duty for
a salutation.

" Now, Mr. ^t. Ives," said the old lady, " it's high time
for you to be taking the road. But first of all let me give
the change of your five-guinea bill. Here are four pounds
of it in British Linen notes, and the balance in small silver,
less sixpence. Some charge a shilling, I believe, but I have
given you the benefit of the doubt. See and guide it with
all the sense that you possess."

"And here, Mr. St. Ives,"said Flora, speaking for the first
time, "is a plaid which you will find quite necessarvon so
rougli a journey. I hope you will take it from tlie'hands
of a Scotch friend," she added, ami her voice trembled.

? i

ST. IV KS

'Oenuino holly : T ml, i|, inyMolf/'H,,,',! Konnld, and pivo
mo )vs good ii cudovl !,s a man ("oi.ld wLsli for in a row.

Tiio fonnalily of (hose gifts, and IIm, wailing (igniv of
tho driver, told mo loudly that I must bo gono. I dropped
on ono knoo and hado farow(>II to tho aunt, kissin.r hor
hiind. I did tho liko— but with how diir.Mvnta passion '—
to hor niooo ; as for tho boy, I look him to ,uy arms and
embraood him with a oordialily that soomod to striko him
spooohloss. - I<^irowoll ! " and •' Karowoll ! " I said. - I
sluul novor forgot my frionds. Koop mo somotimos in
n.omory. Farowoll!" With that I turnod my baok
und bogan to walk aw:.y ; and had sciuro dono so. whon
1 hoard tho door i„ iho hij,), ^vall cjoso bohind mo Of
oonrso this was tho aunt's doing; and of courso. if I know
anything of human oharactor, she won hi not lot mo go
without somo tart oxprossions. I doolaro. ovon if I had
iH^urd thom. 1 should not havo mindod in the least, for I was
(piKo persuaded that, whateveradmirors 1 might be leavin.r
behind mo in Swauston Cottage, the aunt was not tho leasl
sincere.

CriAPTKR X

T rr !•; r) ito v lo iih

It took- in(' .'i lil.llo olTorl, to (ioirio nhwmt of my now (-om-
piuiion; for tlioii^'li lio w.-ilkcd with mi ugly roll uiui no
grcHt iippc'ii-iUKro of Hp(,,M|, ho coiiid oovop tho ground at a
good rut(! whon ho wiuilod to. l-koli lookod at tlu; othor :
I with natural curiosity, ho with a groat apj)oaranoo of
(listasto. I havo hoard sinoo th.-it hi.s heart was cmtiroly
sot against mo; ho had soon mo knool to the ladioH, and
diiignosod n.o for a " gostorin' oodiot."
" So, yo'ro for England, aro yo ?" said he.
I told him yos.

"Wool, thoro's wanr places, I beliovo," was liis reply;
and he relapsed i?ito a silonco which was not broken during
a (piarter of an hour of steady walking.

'riiis i^itorval brought us to tho foot of a biiro }jrrcen val-
ley, which wound upwards and i)ackwards among the hills.
A little stream came down the midst and made a succes-
sioti of clear pools; near by tho lowest of which I was
aware of a drove of shaggy cattle, and a man who see/nod
the very counterpart of Mr. 8im making a breakfast upon
bread and cheese. This second drover (whose name proved
to be Candlish) rose on our approach.

" Jlore'a a mannie that's to gang tlirough with uh," .said
Sim. "It was tbe auld wife, Gilchrist, wanted it."'
"Aweel, aweel," said the other; and presently, romem-

'M)

.ST. IVES

luM-inij: l»is nmnnors, and looking; on mo with a solemn grin,
•* A (inn day ! " say8 ho.

r iii;ro(Hl with him, iind iiskod him Iiow lio did.

" Hniwly," WHS tho roply ; Jind without, fiirfchoroivilitioa,
tho pair procooiiod to ^ot tiie ojittlo under way. 'Phis, aa
well as almost all tho hording, was tho work of a pair of
0(»moly and intolliojent do<j;s. directed by Sim or Candlish
in little more than nionosylhibles. Presently we wore as-
cending: tJu) side of tho tnonntain by a rude green track,
whose presenoo I had not hitherto observed. A continual
souml of munching and the crying of a great cpiautity of
moor birds accompanied our i)rogress, which the delibcrato
pace ami perennial appetite of tho cattle rendered woari-
soiuely slow. In the midst, my two conductors marched in
a contented silence that 1 could not but admire. The nn)ro
I looked at them, the more I was imiiressed by their ab-
surd resomblaneo to each other. They wcro dressed in tho
same coarso homespun, carried similar sticks, wore equally
begriuied about the nose with snulT, and each wound in an
identical plaid of what is called the shepherd's tartan. In a
back view they might bo described as indistinguishable;
and even from the front they wero much alike. An in-
Mvdible coinoidonco of humours augmented the imjiression.
riirico and four times I attempted to pave the way for some
exchange of thought, sentiment, or— at tho least of it-
human words. An Ay or an y/ii» was the sole return, and
tho topic died on tho hillside without echo. I can never
deny that I was chagrined ; and when, after a littlo more
walking. Sim turned towards mo and offered me a ram's
horn of snuff, with the question "Do ye nso it?" I an-
swered, with some animation. "Faith, sir, I would use
popper to introduce a little cordiality." But ovon this sally
failed to reach, or at least failed to soften, my companions.
At this rate wo c.imo to tho summit of a ridgo, and saw

(

TIIK DKOVKUS

tho trunk doacond in front of tis nbrnptly info u dosorfc
valo, about a loiisuo in lonfffcli, and cloHf^d ,it tho fiirlhor
ond by no Iohh barren hillto{.s. Upon thiH point of vantuffo
Sim (.amo to a halt, took olT hi« hat. and nioppod his brow

" Wcoi," Jio Haid, " licro wc'ro at the top o' IFowden."

" Tlie top o' Ifowden, sure encueli," s.-iid (JandliHh.

"Mr. St. Ivey, are ye dry ?" Haid the lirnt.

"_^lVow, really," said I, "is not this Satan reproving

"What ails ye, man?" Haid ho. "I'm olTcrin' yo a
dram." "^

" O, if it bo anything to drink," said I, " I am an dry
as my iieighbourH."

Whereupon Sim prod need from tho corner of his plaid
a black bottle, and we all drank and pledged each other
I found these gentlemen followed npon such occasions an
invariable etiquette, which you may bo certain I made
haste to imitate. Kach wiped his mouth with the back
of Ins left ha.Kl, held up the bottle in his right, remarked
^^^t\^ emphasis, " Ifere's to yc !" and swallowed as much
of the spint as his fancy prompted. This little ceremony
which was the nearest thing to manners I could perceive
m either of my companions, was repeated at becoming in-
tervals, generally after an ascent. Occasionally we shared
a mouthful of ewe-milk cheese and an inglorious form of
bread, which I understood (but am far from engaging my
honour on the point) to bo called "shearer's bannock"
And that may bo said to have concluded our whole active
intercourse for the first day.

I had tho more occasion to remark tho extraordinarily
desolate nature of that country, through which the drov'e
road continued, hour after hour and even day after day,
to wind. A continual succession of insignificant shaggy
hills, divided by the course of ten thousand brooks
7

!)8

ST. IV KH

tlirougii wliicli wo Imd to Wiulo, or by tho sirlo of which
wo (Miciimpcd iit. night ; iiillnito porspoctivos of hoathor,
iuriiiito qu!U\titio8 of inoorfowl ; hero uiul thcr(\ by a
stream side, small and protty clumps of willows or tho
silver birch ; hero and there, tho ruins of ancient and in-
considerable fortresses — made tho unchanging (characters
t)f the scene. Occasionally, but only in tlie distance, wo
could perceive tlio smoko of a small town or of an isoIat(Ml
farmhouse or cottage on tho moors ; more often, a (lock
of sheep and ils attendant shei)hcrd, or a rude (ield of
agriculture perhaps not yet harvested. With these allovia-.
tions, we might almost bo said to pass through an un-
broken desert — sure, one of tho most impoverished in
Europe ; and when I recalled to mind that wo were yet
but a few leagues from the chief city (whore tho law courts
sat every day with a })ress of business, sohliers garrisoned
tho castle, aiul men of admitted parts wore carrying on tho
practice of letters and the investigations of sciciu'o), it
gave me a singular view of that poor, barren, aiulyot illus-
trious country through which 1 travelled. Still more,
perhaps, did it commend tho wisdom of Miss dilchrist in
sending mo with these uncouth companions and by this
unfrequeiitod path.

^^y itinerary is by no moans clear to mo ; tho names
and distances I never clearly knew, ami have now wholly
forgotten ; and this is the more to bo regretted as there
is no doubt that, in tho course of those days, I must have
passed and camped among sites which have been rendered
illustrious by tho pen of Walter Scott. Nay, more, I am
of opinion that I was still more favoured by fortune, and
have actually met and spoken with that inimitable author.
Our encounter was of a tall, stoutish, elderly gentleman,
a little grizzled, and of a rugged but cheerful and engaging
counteuauce. He sat on a hill pony, wrapped in a plaid

THE DUOVEKH

oyer liis p^roon cmt, jind whs a(;ooni|miiic«l by u lior8(!Woman,
liiH (liiiif,'lit('r, a yoimg ludy of i\w. iMo.st nlmniiiii^' uj)-
poiiniiicc. Thoy ovcm-I.ooIc iih oh a slroUili of luiutli, roined
iij) m they cutm! uloii^^sidt!, juid iicc^oinpiiiiidd n,s for por-
hups }i (|iiiirt(!r of iin hour Ix'foro thoy giiHoj.od oil' ii^'iiin
jioroHH tho hillsides to our loft. Croat vvaH my Hinaz(-/noiit
to lind tho uii(!on(|iioral)Io Mr. Situ tliavv iiniiufdiutoly on
tlio aoooHt of this Ktranfj;o <roiitIonuui. who iiaihtd him with
Ji n^ady familiarity, prooooiU^d at onoo to discus.s with him
tho trado of droving and tho prioon of catthi, and did not
disdain to tako a pinch from th(! inovitahlo ram's horn.
Prosontly I was uware that tho stranger's eye was diro(!tod
on njyself ; and there onsued aeonversation, some of whioli
I couhl not help overhearing at the time, and tho rest have
pieced together more or less plausibly from the report of
Sim.

** Surely that must be an amateur drover ye have gotten
there ?" the gentleman seems to have asked.

Sim replied, 1 was a young gentleman that had a reason
of his own to travel privately.

" Well, well, ye must tell me nothing of that. I am in
law, you know, and lace is the Latin for a candle," an-
swered the gentleman. " Hut I hope it's nothing bad."

Sim told him it was no more than debt.

"0, Lord, if that be all !" cried the gentleman ; and,
turning to myself, " Well, sir," he added, " I understand
you are taking a tramp through our forest hero for the
pleasure of the thing ?"

" Why, yes, sir," said I ; '' and I must say I am very
well entertained."

*' I envy you," said he. " I have jogged many miles of
it myself when I was younger. My youth lies buried
about here under every heather-bush, like the soul of the
licentiate Lucius. But you should have a guide. The

100

ST. IVKS

plousuro of this country is much in the lo^'onds, which
f,'ro\v as pUuitiful lus bhickborricH." And directing my at-
tention to ii little fnignient of ti broken wull no ^renter
thiin 11 tombstone, he told me, for an exsimple, ji story of
its earlier inhabitants. Years after it chanced that I was
QUO day diverting myself with a Waverley Novel, when
what should I como upon but the identical narrative of my
green-coated gentleman n})on the moors I In a moment
the scene, the tones of his voice, his northern accent, and
the very aspect of the earth and sky and temperature of
the weallier, ilashed back into my mind with the reality of
dreams. The unknown in the green coat had been the
(Jreat Unknown ! I had mot Scott ; I had heard u story
from his lips ; I should have been able to write, to claim
ac(iuaintance, to tell him that his legend still tingled in
my ears. But tlie discovery came too late, and the great
man had already succumbed under the load of his honours
and misfortunes.

Presently, after giving us a cigar apiece, Scott bade us
farewell and disappeared witli his daughter over the liills.
Ami when I applied to Sim for information, his answer of
'• The Shirra, man ! A'body kens the Shirra !" told me,
unfortunately, nothing.

A more consideniblo adventure falls to bo related. Wo
were now near the border. Wo had travelled for long
upon the track beaten and browsed by a million herds, our
predecessors, and liad seen no vestige of that traffic which
had created it. It was early in the morning when wo at
last perceived, drawing near to the drove road, but still at
the distance of about half a league, a second caravan, simi-
lar to but larger than our own. The liveliest excitement
was at once exhibited by both my comrades. They
climbed hillocks, they studied the approaching drove from
under their hand, they consulted each other with an ap-

TIIK DKOVKUS

lot

pc'iriinco of alarm iliat soomod to mo oxt.raonlinary. I ]m\
Iciiniod by this timo that tiioir stand-olT manners impliod,
at loast, no aotivo enmity ; and I made bold to ask thcni
what was wronp;.

" Had yins," was Sim's emphatic answer.
All day the do^'s were kept unsparin^dy on the alert, and
the drove pushed forward at a very tinnsiial and seemin^r|y
nnwel(U)me speed. All day Sim and Candlish, with a more
than ordinary expenditure both of siuid and of words, (con-
tinued to debate the jxwition. It seems that they had ree-
o-,Miis(-d two of our neighbours on the road— one Faa, and
another by the name of (Allies. Whether there was an
old feud between them still unsettled I could never learn ;
but Sim and Candlish were prepared for every degree of
fraud or violence at their hands. Candlish repeatedly con-
gratulated himself on having left " the watch at home with
the mistress " ; and Sim perpetually brandislied his cudgel,
and cursed his ill-fortune that it should be sprung.

" I wilna care a damn to gic the daashed scoon'rcl a fair
clout wi' it," he said. <' The daashed thing micht como
sindry in ma hand."

''Well, gentlemen," said I, "suppose they do come on,
I think wo can give a very good .account of them." And I
made my piece of holly, Ronalu's gift, the value of wliich
I now appreciated, sing about my head.

" Ay, man ? Are ye stench ? " inquired Sim, with a
gleam of approval in his wooden countenance.

The same evening, somewhat wearied with our day-long
expedition, we encamped on a little verdant mound, from
the midst of which there welled a spring of clear water
scarce great enough to wash the hands in. We had
made our meal and lain down, but were not yet asleei),
when a growl from one of the collies set us on the alert.
All three sat up, and on a second impulse all lay down

U)2

HT. i\m

mun, lull now will; our nxl^n m,.l.v. A n.m. .,.,.«!, Imai.
;''""" ■•""' "" """'i»-. <«n old Hol.lirr m..l a yn.ii.K iiimi in (I,,,
I'arKM.n (o (nl<„ ,„Iv,-„(„,, ,,,sily. Wi(,|i „„ i,,,,i ,„ ,„ ,,,,„
n^'lKsof (lM.<,nnnvlor |.Ih« |moI,,,I.I,. r,M.H.M|u,.M,r,M of (l„.
"•"■""•""'•. I "■..«..,« ,VM.I.v (,.|,,lu. purl, will, n.vtwo.ln,'
VO.X ;.s .n.M- lofMlI in lin. .,n Mu- .nornin^r ,,-,, ,,„„,,.
'vs.M,ll.v tlM>n> l.-:.|"'«lllnvo n..>noul..r I he Iu-hMmu- • w..
I'.'« .;<.-.nv luu,. lo .vl (., onr fcrl, h.-fon- w,. u.-r. usHuilnl •

;'•'•''•'•■' '''■'•''•'''^ ^^'''-iMMUM.r ns w;,s rn«.^...| ,vilh un uH-

orsm-y wlmn, ( ..> .Uv|MM,in^^ • wiliKl.l, s,.uv,. imm-mmILmI hin,

<os,v. lowtlM>l,HMI.s,,nlinollMM-<,n,,.U.r.s.,unin no

I'os.hon lo .losrnho. TIm> rof^M... Ilntl, loll to n.y Hha.v was

ox.w.l.n^y .^ilo.n,lox,uM-|, will, Lis woa,.o.;; |.a.| un.l

•^>1'« "u. Hi a .l.sa,lvMnlM«o fn.n, I ho li.-s|,„,s,snnll, ; fon',.,! n,o

o K'vogronnd conlinnally. and al, last, in m.no solf-do-

onoo to lot Inn, havo tho point. It sl.-nrk hi,,, i„ ,,|„

tlm..t. an.l ho went down like u ninopin an.l ...ovcmI no

n >^oon,od this was the sional for tho on^.,^nMnont to ho
«l«s.'ont.nno,l. Tho otho,- .-ondrntants soparatod at onoo •
oMi- foos wore snlTorod. wilhont n.olostation. to lift ni, an,
l)oar awuv thoir f.Ilon .'oniPulo : so that I porooivod this
sor of war to bo not wholly withont laws of ohivalry. and
1HM-In,ps rathor to par.ako of thoohurm-tor of a tonrnann-nt

>an of a hattlo ,} outnmre. Tln>,-o was no donbfc, at loast,
null 1 was supposed to have i»nshod tho alTair toosorionsly.
Our fnonds tho onon,y ron.ovod thoir woundod companion
Mithiuuhsgu.sod oonstornatiou; and thoy woro no sooner
over tho top of tho brao, than Sim and Candlish loused ui,
their weaned drove and set, forth on a night march.

•* I m blinking Faa's unco bad," said tho ono.

"Ay," said tlio other, " ho lookit dooms ijash "

*' He did that." said the first.

And tlieir weary sileuco fell upou them again.

TIIK DROVKKft

103

iVowtnMy Him ttirnod to mo. " YcVo iinco nwly with
tlio Htidit," Hiiid ho.

" Too n^udy, I'm afraid," Hiiid f. •' I am afraid Mr. Vim
(if that ho liiH name) haH ^'ot hin f^'nicl."
" Wcol, I woidddao woii(h'r," rcplic^d Sim.
" And what iu likoly to happoii ? " \ iiKjiiirod.
" Awoci." Haid Sim, Hiinnin/r |irof«»iiiidly, " if I w«'ro to
<dT(!r an (»|>conion, it W(»nld not l»(; (:(»iiHcicritionH. l-'or th(!
plain far;' in. Mr. St. Ivy, tliat I div not ken. Wo havo had
(•ra(d<it hoidw ami rowth of thoio — i-vc. now ; and wc havo
had a hr(»l<on lo/,' or maylx! twa ; and tho lik(f of that w(!
drovor hodioH makoakind of a praoti(!o liko to koftp amon^'
onrHol'H. lint a (!orp w(! havo nono of iih ovor had to doal
with, and I (ioiild wd- nao loornit to what (Jillicw mioht ron-
Hidor propcM- in tho alfair. Forhyo that, Ik; wonid hr. in
raith((r a hohhhi liimHol', if ho waH to ^'an^' hamo wantin'
Kaa. hoik aro awfn' thron;,' with thoir (jiio.stionH, and par-
toooiilarly whon thoy'ro no wantit."
•'That'Hafao',"Haid(;an(lliHh.

I conHidiu-cMl tluH pro.spoot rMi^fnlly ; and thoTi, making'
tho hoHtof it, "Upon a'l which a(!oonntH," Haid I, «' tho
hoHt will ho to got a(;roHs tins honh^r and thoru sciparato.
If yon aro trouhlod, yon can vory trnly pnt tho hlarno npon
yonr lato (lompanion ; ami if I am pnrsnod, I must ju.st try
to koop out of tho way."

" Mr. St. Ivy," Haid Sim, with Homctliing rcsomhling on-
thnsiasm, " no a word mair ! I liavo mot in wi'mony kind.^
o' gentry ore now ; I liuo .soon o' thorn that was the tae
thing, and I hae seen o' thorn that was the titlier ; but tlie
wale of a gentleman liko you I liave no sae very frequently
seen the bate of."

Our night march was accordingly pursued with unremit-
ting diligence. IHie stars paled, the east whitened, and
we were still, both dogs and men, toiling after the wearied

104

ST. IVES

cattle. Agaiu jiuu .iguin Sim iiud Candlish lamented tlie
necessity : it was " fair ruin on the bestial," tiiey declared ;
but the thought of a judge and a scalfold hunted tiiem
ever forward. I myself was not so much to be pitied. All
that night, and during the whole of the little that reuuiinod
before us of our conjunct journey, I enjoyed a new ])leas-
urc, the reward of my prowess, in the new loosened tongue
of Mr. Sim. Candlish was still obdurately taciturn : it
was the man's nature ; but Sim, having finally appraised
and approved me, displayed without reticence a rather
garrulous habit of mind and a pretty talent for narration.
The pair were old and close companions, co-existing in
these endless moors in a brotherhood of silence such as 1
have heard attributed to the trappers of the west. It seems
absurd to mention love in connection with so ugly and
snuffy a couple ; at least, their trust was absolute ; and
they entertained a surprising admiration for each other's
qualities ; Candlish exclaiming that Sim was "grand com-
pany ! " and Sim frequently assuring me in an aside that
for " a rale, auld, stench bitch, there was nae the bate of
Candlish in braid Scotland." The two dogs appeared to be
entirely included in this family compact, and I remarked
that their exploits and traits of character were constantly
and minutely observed by the two masters. Dog stories
particularly abounded with them j and not only the dogs
of the present but those of the pasi couinbnted their
quota. "But that was naething," 3iin v.'o:.ld begin;
" there was a herd in Manar, they ca'd him Tweedie— ye'll
mind Tweedie, Can'lish?" "Fine, that!" said Candlish.
" Aweel, Tweedie had a dog " The story I have for-
gotten ; I daresay it was dull, and I suspect it was not
^"ue ; but indeed, my travels Avith the drovers had ren-
(ionr.i me indulgent, and perhaps even credulous, in the
TiTttter of d<.; stories. Beautiful, indefatigable beings ! as I

TUE DHOVEliS

lOS

saw thorn at tl.o oiul „f .. l,mg .lay., journey fri»H„K burk-
.ug, boumlmg, striking attit.ul.., .Luaing „ bu hy toU
mumfe ly playing to tl,a »p.ctato,-. .y„, „,tni,W ly LS
mg ." thmr g,aoo and beanty-aud turned to ob.mX.
«d Camll,»l, unc-nan.eutaliy plodding in the elr with
ho ,,lau» about their bowed »houldort and th dron „
then- snul^y „„».^1 thought I would .-.tho,- -la , tZZ
«h tho dogs than with tho men ! My »y,n| J, t^lZ
eturnod ; ,„ tl,oir oyes I w.« a ereatua. llglu ./air Id
they would scarce spare me the ti,„o fof u p rfl'cto v
cares, or perhaps a hasty lap of the wet tong ere S
wem b..ck again in sedulous attendance on^l,.s d^^^
' e,t,es, tlunr n„.sters-au.l their nmsters, as lik as ml
Jiimning their stupidity. '

Altogether the l,.st hours of our tramp were i.anitelv

by the t,me we came to separate, there had grow, u,. a
certa,n am.l.arity and mutual esteen, that n,„de^ ,Trt!

« ba e h.l s.de from which I could see the ribbon , ' the

" Naething." replied Sim.

lull 01 whisk , and now you will take nothing ! "

le see we indentit for that," replied Sim
mean"- ' ''^'^'^^ '^ " ^l^at aoes the man

tweerOandi??" T^ ^™' " '^'' '' ^ "^^^^t^^' ««tirely be-
hX.ofl 1' " "'' ""^ ^^'' ^"^^ ^if«> Gilchrist. You

"My good man," said I, ^ac allow myself to be

106

placed

ST. IVES

snch ridicnlc

position.' Mrs. Gilchrist is
nothing to me, and I refuse to be her debtor."

" I dinna exactly see wliat way ye're gann to help it,"
observed my drover.

"By paying you here and now," said I.

" Tliere's aye twa to a bargain, Mr. St. Ives," said he.

" You mean that you will not take it ? " said I.

"There or thereabout," said hn. " Forbye, that it
would set ye a heap better to keep your siller for them you
a^e it to. Ye're young, Mr. St. Ivy, and thoughtless;
but it's my belief that, wi' care and circumspection, ye may
yet do credit to yoursel'. But just you bear this in mind :
that him that awes siller sliould never gie siller."

Well, what was there to say ? I accepted his rebuke,
and bidding the pair farewell, set off alone upon my south-
ward way.

"Mr. St. Ivy," was the last word of Sim, " I was never
muckle ta'eu up in Englishry ; but I think that I really
ought to say that ye seem to me to have the makings of
quite a daceut lad."

CHAPTER XI

THE OREAT NORTH ROAD

It diancod that as I went down the hill these last words
of my friend the drover echoed not unfruitfnlly in my
head. I had never told these men the least particnlars as
to my race or fortnne, as it was v. part, and the best part,
of their civility to ask no questions : yet they had dubbed
me without hesitation English. Some strangeness in the
accent they had doubtless thus explained. And it occurred
to me, that if I could pass in Scotland for an Englishman,
I might be able to reverse the process and pass in England
for a Scot. I thought, if I was pushed to it, I could make
a struggle to imitate the brogue ; after my experience with
Candlish and Sim, I had a rich provision of outlandish
words at my command ; and I felt I could tell the tale of
Tweedie's dog so as to deceive a native. At the same time,
I was afraid my name of St. Ives was scarcely suitable ; till
I remembered there was a toAvn so called in the province
of Cornwall, thought I might yet be glad to claim it for my
place of origin, and decided for a Cornish family and a
Scots education. For a trade, as I was equally ignorant
of all, and as the most innocent might at any moment be
the means of my exposure, it was best to pretend to none.
And I dubbed myself a young gentleman of a sufficient
fortune and an idle, curious habit of mind, rambling the
country at my own charges, in quest of health, informa-
tion, and merry adventures.

107

308

ST. IVES

At Newcastle, whicli wus tlie first town I roacliod, I com-
pletcd my i)repiiriitions for the part, before going' to the
inn, by the purciiase of a knapsack and a pair of leathern
gaiters. My plaid I continued to wear from sentiment. It
was warm, useful to sleep in if I were again benighted,
and I had discovered it to be not unbecoming for a man of
gallant carriage. Thus cquii)i)ed, I supported my charac-
ter of the light-hearted pedestrian not amiss. "Surprise
was indeed expressed that I should have selecited such a
season of the year ; but I pleaded some delays of business,
aiKl smilingly claimed to be an eccentric. The devil wiis
in it, I would say, if any season of the year was not good
enough for me ; I was not made of sugar, I was no molly-
coddle to be afraid of an ill-aired bed or a sprinkle of snow ;
and I would knock upon the table with my list and call for
t'other bottle, like the noisy and free-hearted young gentle-
man I was. It was my policy (if I may so express myself)
to talk much and say little. At the inn tables, the coun-
try, the state of the roads, the business interest of those
who sat down with me, mid the course of public events,
afforded me a considerable field in which I might discourse
at large and still communicate no information about my-
self. There was no one with less air of reticence ; I plunged
into my company up to the neck ; and I had a long cock-
and-bull story of an aunt of mine which must have con-
vinced the most suspicious of my innocence. " What ! "
they would have said, "that young ass to be concealing
anything ! Why, he has deafened me with an aunt of his
until my head aches. He only wants you should give him
a line, and he would tell you his whole descent from Adam
downward, and Jiis whole private fortune to the Inst shil-
ling." A responsible solid fellow was even so much moved
by pity for my inexperience as to give me a word, or two of
good advice : that I was but a young man after all— I had

THE GREAT NOUTII IIOAD

109

at this time Ji deceptive air of youtli tliiit made me easily
pass for oiie-and-twenty, and was, in tlje eircumstanccs,
worth a fortune— that the company at inns was very min-
Khid, tliat I should do well to be more careful, and the
like ; to all which I made answer that I meant no harm
myself and expected none from others, or the devil was in

it. " You are one of tliose d d prudent fellows that I

could never abide with," said I. " You are the kind of
man that has a long head. That's all the world, my dear
sir : the long-heads and the short-horns ! Now, I am a
short-horn." - I doubt," says he, - that you will not go
very far without getting sheared." I offered to bet with
him on that, and he made oif, shaking his head.

But my particular delight was to enlarge on politics und
the war. None damned the French like me ; none was
more bitter against the Americans. And when the north-
bound mail arrived, crowned with holly, and the coachman
and guard hoarse with shouting victory, I went even so far
as to entertain the company to u bowl of punch, which I
compounded myself with no illiberal hand, and doled out

to such sentiments as the following :

" Our glorious victory on the Nivelle ! " " Lord Well-
ington, God bless him ! and may victory ever attend upon
his arms ! " and, " Soult, poor devil ! and may he catch it
again to the same tune ! "

Never was oratory more applauded to the echo— never
any one was more of the popular man tlian I. I promise
you, we made a night of it. Some of the company sup-
ported each other, with the assistance of boots, to their
respective bed-chambers, while the rest slept on tlie field
of glory where we had left them ; and at the breakfast
table the next morning there was an extraordinarv assem-
blage of red eyes and shaking fists. I observed patriotism
to burn much lower by daylight. Let no one blame me

110

HT. IVKS

!?:«'

U>\' lUHOUMilulily lo Iho rt'V(M-M(>s of Kniiico I (j.mI knowH
lu)\v m,v lioarl. r.Mgv.l. ll„\v I longvd (o full oii lluil, l.cnl
of swino !ni(l Ixnock (licir Iic-uIm lop-llicr in llic niomctil, of
ihoir rovolrv I Mul voii iin> I,. ,>,>iiMi,l,.r mv own Miliiiitioii
ini.l i(M lu'.vssilics: iilMo a .vrliiin liKliHinii'lcdiioHH. .Miii-
ncMlIy (liilli,-. whi.'h r.MniM a IcM.liiii; (mil in my i'liiiniclcr,
jm.l loads n\.' lo Ihrow inysoli' iiilo new oiiviimslancpM wilh
111.' spirit of a s.'hoollMy. H, is |,ossil.l.> llmi I s..ni.<|im(<M
uIIow.mI Ihis impish luimotir lo carry m.> furl lior than ^mmmI
taslo approves ; ami I was .vrlaiiily piiiiishod (ov il ,.,„•('.

'I'liiswasiii thcopisoopal oily of Durham. Wo sal. down, a
oonsidorahlooompany. lodimior. mosi o\' us lino old vullod
Ktiglish lorios ,d' Ihal olass whioh is ol'ioii so oiilhusiaslio un
<>; ''«' inarlioulalo. I look ami hold I ho load from tlio bo-
jri'ining ; and. iho lalk liavini,' luniod on Iho l-'ronoh in
Iho IVninsida. I i^avo Mioni MnMionliodolails(oi» Mn«aiilJior-
i(y of a oonsin of mino. an onsi^n) of o(>rlain oannihal
ori>ios in (Jalioia. in whioh no loss a, porson Mian (J(>n<-r(il
CalTarolIi had lakon a part. I always dislikod thai com-
niandor. who onoo ordorod mo nndor arrost for insnhordi-
natioti : and il is possihio Ihal a spioo of vonm-anoo addod
lo Iho vxixowr of my piolnro. I have foryollon Iho d(>lails ;
tio donhl thoy woro hioh-oolonrod. NodonM I rojoiood |,i
fool (hoso joltor-hoads ; and nodoidil |,h(> sonso of soonriTv
that I drank from Ihoir dnll. sraspiniv fao,«s onoonra^^'od mo
lo prooood oxtronudy far. .Vnd for my sins. thor(> was ()m>
piloni litllonianat tahlo who look my story at Iho trno
valuo. It was from no sonso (>f luimonr. to whioh ho was
quito doad. It w.-is from no partionlar intolliuonoo. for lio
had not any. Tho bond of sympatliy, of all things in tlio
world, had rondorod liini olairvoyant.

IVhuior was no sooner done than I atrolled forth into tlio
stroo-ts witii some design of viewing the eatiiedral ; and the
little man was silently at my heels. A few doors from the

'HMO UKKA'I' NOII'III UOAI)

J I I

iim. ill II. (Idrk pliicin (»f \.\w Hlnvl,. I wjih awarn of a ioiuili on
my aim. (.niiind Hii(|<lciily. nw\ U)uw\ liini looking up at
111(1 wil.li oycH pnllicLically hii^'lil,.

"I Img your pardon, h'w ; Iml, l.hal, nU>ry ofyoiiiH wm
|"ii*'i«''"lHily ri'li. Ilf li(> ! l'a,il.i(Milarly racy.'' nai(| lio.
" I (.(ill y(»ii, Hir, ( (n<tk yon wholly I I Hinahd yon ! | Im,--
lidvo yon and I, Kir. if w(i had a clianco l«. I.alk. would lind
wo hada./TO()d many opinioiiH iiMioMinioii. Hero in l.ho ' \\\\u'.
M(>ll.' a, very <'(.nirortalilc place. They draw good al(^ my.
Would y(»n he ho «'ond('HC(>iidin^' m l.o alian! a pot, wilh nui?"
Tlioro wan Honmlliiii/r k(» a,mhi;rnonn and Kccrct. in Iho
liU.lo nian'H porpcd.nal ni;^f|ia,lliii;j;, Mial. I ron.'cKH my (inrirmity
waH iiincli aroiiHcid. I'daniin^r myHnll', <.vcn aH I did ho, f(,r
Mm indiHcrclion, I (-mhractcd liin proponal, and W(! werc! Koon
fa.(!(i l.o I'aco ov(!r a Lankan! of mulled ah;, lie lowonid liin
voico to Urn JcaHl. alteniialion of a whinper.

" Here, nir," Haid he, " \h l.o the (Jroat, Man. I l.liink yon
lake mo ? No ?" Il(^ Icaimd forward l.ill onr nowiH almf-si,
lomduMi. '• |Icr(! in (,o l,li(> I'lmpiiror ! " Haid ho.

I *va.H nxl.rmnely omharraH,4cd, and, in Hpil.o of t.ho ercul,-
iiro*H iiuKMumI, appearanco, monj than half alarmed. I
Uionj^lit him too inf/otnioiiH, and, indeed, too daring for a
si)y. Yot if ho vvcro lionoHt he miiHt ho a man of (-xtra-
ordinary indiHcretion, and therefore very unfit to he on-
ooura,^'ed by an OHeaped [)riHoner. I took a half eonrKc,
accordingly -Hicoop ted his toaHt in Hilonce, and drank it
witliont onlhiiHiaHtn.

Ifo proceed('d to aOonnd in the praisoHof Napoleon, Hnch
m I had never heard in France, or at least only on the lips
of ollicials |)ai(l to olTijr tlnnn.

"And tliiH Cairarelli, now," ho pursued : " he isaHpIen-
did fellow, too, iw ho not ? I have not heard vastly much
of him myHelf. No details, sir— no details ! We labour
under huge difficulties here as to unbiassed information."

112

ST. IVK8

_ I boliovo I havp hennl iho mmo complaint in othor ro„n-

ncs, I could not help ronnirkin^^. '• I}„t a, to OulVurdli,

.0 .8 ne.t or lan.o nor blind, ho has two logs, and u noso

■nthcnnddoofh.sfaoo. And I ...ro ,.,s nuu-h about him

!is you earo for tho doad body of Mr. iV-rooval ! "

Ho studied me with gN)wiiig oyos.

"You cannot decoivo moJ '* ho cried. "Yon Jmvo
sorved under him. Vou are a French.nan ! I hohl by tlio
I'and. at Ia«t. one of tluit noble raee. the pioneers of tho
jonous principles of liberty and br„thcrhoo,i. Hush '
No, It IS all right. 1 thought there had b,>en somebody at
the door In this wretched, enslaved country we daro not
even call our souls our own. The sj^y and tho hangn.an,
.r-tho spy ami the hangman ! And yet thero isa candle
''"'•"."g, t.o. The good leaven is woi-king, sir-work .'
-HJornea h. Even in this town there a?o a few brav^
spirits, who moot every Wednesday. You must stay over
a day or so, a,id join us. Wo do not use this house. An-
other a.,d a quieter They draw fine alo, liowovor-fair,

o L^ y'" "; /'"'^ ^'""''"'^ ""^"^ ^'•'^"'^«' --'-^
OS d ■" ^"^^^'"^— "^^ very daring sentiments cZ
piessed ho cried, expanding his small chest. -Mon-
archy Chnstianity-all the trappings of a bloated past-
the liee Confraternity of Durham and Tvneside deride "
Here was a devil of a prospect for a gentleman whoso
whole design was to avoid observation !^ The Free Con!

110 pait of my baggage ; and I tried, instead, a little cold

. "You seem to forget, sir, that my Emperor has re-estab-
lished Christianity," I observed.

"Ah. sir, but that was policy ! " ],e exclaimed. "You
no not nndo'vtand N'ii)oU>nn t i * u i , .
PRrPPr T -'-""' •^.•'l'^^^^^"- 1 iwive followed his whole
career. I can explain Ins policy from first to last. Now

THE OKKATNOHTir ROAD

113

for instanoo in the Poninst.la, on which yon woro bo very
un.ufiy ,f yon will como to a friend's house who has a
map of Simm, 1 can make the whole conrso of the war
quite clear to yon, I venture to say, in half an hour."

ihis was intolerable. Of the two extremes, 1 found 1
I)referrc<i the Jiritish tory ; and, making an appointment
or the morrow, I pleaded s.ulden headache, es<,aped to the
inn, packed n.y knapsack, and lied, about nine at night,
fron. this accursed neighbourhood. It was cold, starry, and
clear and the road dry, with a touch of frost. For all that,
J hud not the smallest intention to make a long stage of it •
and about ten o'clock, spying on the right-hand side of the
way the lighted w.ndows of an alehouse, I determined to
bait there for the night.

It was against my princ.iple, which was to frequent only
the dearest inns ; and the misadventure that befell me was
sulhcicnt to make me more particular in the future A
arge company was assembled in the parlour, which" was
heavy with clouds of tobacco smoke and brightly lighted
up by a roaring fire of coal. Hard by the chimney stood a
vacant chair in what I thought an enviable situation,
whether for warmth or the pleasures of society ; and I was
about to take it, when the nearest ol the company stopped
mo with his hand. ^ '■ ^

" «eg thy pardon, sir," said he ; "but that there chair
belongs to a 1 n'lsh soldier."

A chorus of voices enforced and explained. It was one
of Lord Wei ington's heroes. He had been wounded un-
der Rowland IIill. He was Colburne's right-hand man.
In short, this favoured individual appeared to liave served
with every separate corps and under every individual gen-
eral in the Peninsula Of mm-an i ^> ^ • t r ^ ,
kT,nwr, n^ ^"'"-"'•'^- -'f com 30 I apologiscd. I luid not
known Ihe devil was in it if a soldier had not a right to
the best in England. And with that sentiment, which was
8

114

ST. IVKS

loudly ii|)|)lim(Io(l, I found a roruor of a Ikmu-Ii, and
awaifod, with sotno Iiopcs of ontortaininout, tlio roturn of
tliP horo. llo proved, of couiho, I<» ho a privato HoMior. I
Kay of course, hccausc no ollicor oouhl posHihly on joy .siu-h
lKMjj;ht,s of popiihirity. llo had hoon wounded hoforo San
Schastian, and still wcn-o his arm in a isling. What was a
groat deal worso for him, ovory inond)or of tlio (M»mpanv
had hoon plying him with drink. His honost yokel's
oountonaneo hlazod as if with fever, his eyes wore glared
and looked the two ways, and his foot stundthMl as. amidst
a nuirnuir of ajtplauvso, ho rolurnod t) the midst of his
admirers.

Two Miijjutos afterwards I was .ngain posting in the dark
along the highway ; to explain which sudden movomoid, of
retreat 1 must trouhletho reader with a rominisoonooof my
servioes.

I lay one night with the out-piekcts in Castile. Wo
'Voro in close touch M'ith the enemy ; the usual orders had
hoon issued against smoking, tires, and talk, and hoth
armies lay as quiet as mice, when I saw tho Knglish aenti-
nel «ipposito making a signal hy holding up his musket. I
repeated it, and wo hoth crept together in the dry hod of
a stream, which mudb tho donuvrcation of tho armies. It
was wine ho wanted, of which wo had a good provision, and
the English had quite run out. IIo gave mo tho money,
and I, as was the custom, left him my firelock in i)ledge,
and set olT for the canteen. When I returned with a skin
of wine, behold, it had pleased sonio uneasy dovil of an
English ofllcer to withdraw the outposts ! Here was a
situation with a vengeance, and I looked for nothing but
ridicule in the present and punishment in the future.
Doubtless our officers winked pretty hard at this inter-
cli.inge of courtcsioB, but doubtless it would be impossible
to wink at so gross a fault, or rather so pitiable a misad-

THE (HtKAT NOUTM K(»AI)

iir.

voiiiiiro ii« mine; iitid yon ani In cohchmvo mo wundf-rin/r
ill Mio pliiiiiH of (IfiHtilc. Iicniglilcd, (;lmrjr(.(| wit.li u wiiid-
Hkiii for wlii(!li I liiid no uhc, iind with no knowl('(|^f(. wliiit,-
cvcr of tlio wliorcjiboul.H of my miiHkot, lioyond t,Iml, it, wm
Homcwhon) in my lic.rd VV«'Iliiijr(,un'H urmy. I'.iit, mv Kn;,'-
liHlimiin wiiH ('il,li(>r ii very lioncMt, fellow, (»r el.so extremely
iliirHl.y, and ut, IiihI, contrived (,o udvcMtiw! iim; of liiw new
position. Now. tlie Kn-rlisli wentry in (UihUU'. and llio
wounded lioro in tlu! Durham puhlie-lioii.so worn one and
the same jJerHon ; and if he had heen a littjo Iohh drunk, or
myself h-ss lively in g(atin<,'away, ilio travels of M. St. Iv(-s
mijrlit have eonu' to an untimely end.

I suppose this woke mo up ; it stirnid in me besides a
s|)irit of opposition, and in s|Ht(( of cold, darkness, the
hi<,diwaymen and the footpads. I determinful i,o walk rif^'ht
on until break fast-ti>ne : a happy n'solution, which emibled
mc to observe one of those trait,s of manners which at once
depict a country ami (!(»ndemn it. It was near fnidni^dit
when I saw, a p^reat way ahead of me, the li-r|,t of many
tondios ; presentrly after, the sound of wlu^els reached mo
and tho slow tread of feet, and soon I had joined myself to
the rear of a sordid, silent, and lu^'u])rioiis ])rocession, su(!li
as we see in dreams. (!lose on a huf.dred persotis marched
by tonddight in unbroken silenco ; in their midst a cart,
and in the cart, on an imdined platform, Dw, dead body of
a man— the centre-piece of this solemnil,y, the Ikm-o whoso
obsecjuies we were come forth at this unusual liour to cole-
brate. It was but a plain, dingy old f(dlow of fifty or
sixty, his throat out, liis shirt turned over as though to
show the wound. Blue trousers and brown socks com-
pleted his attire, if we can talk so of the dead. He had a
horrid look of a waxwork. In the tossing of the lights he
seemed to make faces and mouths at us, to frown, and to
be at times upon the point of speech. The cart, with this

110

HT. IVKS

Hlrnbhy iUMl tm-i,^ f.vi-hl, and Hun-otituliHl l.y its siUMit cs-
(H)rt, iin.l l,n-ht t,orcI„.s. ..ontimunl f,,,- soino .li.stancc t,,.
<Mrak ulong the hi^^h n.ul, ii.ul I |„ follow it i.i unui/o.i.ont,
which u'us 800.1 ox(;liiui-cnl f(,r horror. At tho cornor of
a hino tho procession stopped, uiid m the torehos nu.ircd
themselves :iU.ng the hed^rorow-side, I bocunic r.-iire of u
^nive d.,<r in tho midst of tho thoron^rLfH,-,.. an,! a provi-
sion of .pueklime piled in the ditch. The can was backed
to the nuu-m. the body slun^r olT tho i.latforni and dun.ped
into the grave with an irreverent roughness. A sharpe.Kul
stake had hitherto served it for a i.illow. It was now with-
»Ii;an-n lield in its place by several volunteers, and a follow
with a heavy mallet (tho sound of wliich still haunts mo at
n.ght) drove it liomo through the !,osom of tho corpse.
1 ho hole was illled with quicklime, an.l tho bystanders, as
If re loved of some oppression, broke at once into a sound
of wluspored speech.

_ My shirt stuck to mo, my heart had almost ceased beat-
ing, and I found my tongue with ditliculty.

'' I beg your pardon," / gasped to a neighbour, " what is
tins f what has ho done ? is it allowed ?"

"Why, whore do you come from ?" replied tho man
"I am a traveller, .ir," said I, -and a total stranger in
this part of tho country. I luul lost my way when I saw
your torches, and came by chance ou this-this incredible
sceue. AVho was the man ? "

"A suicide," said he. -Ay, he was a bad one, was
Johnnie Green."

It appeared this was a wretcli who had committed many
barbarous murders, and being at last upon the point of dk-
covery fell of his own hand. And tho nightmare at the
cross-roads was the regular punishment, according to tho
laws of England, for an act wliich tlie Komans honoured
as a virtue ! Whenever an Englishman begins to prate of

TIFK (JIIKAT NortTM ItOAI)

117

civiliriiition (jiH, indmi, it'Hiidofoct, thoy ,iro mtlior prono
to), I hear the mciisiircd hlowH of u nmllot.Hoo tlio hyHtand-
ors nrowd with torches about the ^rave, Htnilo a litUo to
mywdf in consrioiiH Hiiporiority— and take a thimbicfi!) of
l)randy for the Htoniach'H nuke.

I h(>lieve it imist have bee. at my next Htaf,'e, for I
reinernber {r„i„^r to bed extremely «>arly, that f eanio to tlio
model of a ^'ood old-fa.shioned Mn^diHh inn, and was at-
tended on l)y the pieturc of a pretty (diambermaid. Wo
had a pood many pleasant |)assageH an Kho waited taldc or
warmed my bed for me with a devil of a brass warming-
pan, fnlly hirger tlian lierself ; and as she was no less pert
than she was pretty, she may Ije said to have piven rather
hotter tiian she took. I cannot tell why (unless it were for
the sake of her saiuiy eyes), but I made her my confidante,
told lier I was attached to a youn-r lady in Scotland, and
received the oneouragemont of lior sympathy, mingled and
connected with a fair amount of rustic wit. While I 8lei)t
the down-mail stopped for supper ; it chanced that one of
tlie passengers left beliind a copy of the Edinburyh Cou-
m)ti, and tlic next morning my pretty chambermaid set the
paper before mo at breakfast, with the remark that there
was some news from my lady-love. Ltook it eagerly, hop-
ing to find some farther word of our escai)e, in which I was
disappointed ; and I was about to lay it down, when my
eye fell on a paragraph immediately concerning me. Faa
was in hospital, grievously sick, and warrants were out for
the arrest of Sim and Candlish. 'Jliesc two men had shown
themselves very loyal to me. This trouble emerging, the
least I could do was to be guided by a similar loyalty to
them. Suppose my visit to my uncle crowned with some
success, and my finances re-esta1)lished, I determined I
should immediately return to Edinburgh, put their case in
the hands of a good lawyer, and await events. So my mind

118

ST. IVES

was very lightly mado nn to what proved a mip;hty scri'ons
matter. CaiuUisli and Sim were all very well in their way,
and I do sincerely trust I should have heen at some pains
to help them, had there heen nothing else. But in truth
my eyes and my heart were set on quite another matter,
and r reeeived the news of their trihulation almost with
joy. That is never a bad wind that blows whore wo want
to go, and you may be sure there was nothing unweleomo
in a circumstance that carried me ba(!k to Kdinburgh and
Flora. From that hour I began to iiululge myself with the
making of imaginary scenes and interviews, in which 1 con-
founded the aunt, llattered Itonald, and now in the witty,
now in the sentimental manner, declared my love and
received the assurance of its return. Hy means of this ex-
ercise my resolution daily grew stronger, until at last I had
piled together such a mass of obstinacy as it would have
taken a cataclysm of nature to subvert.

" Yes," said I to the chambermaid, " here is news of my
lady-love indeed, and very good news too."

All that day, in the teeth of a keen winter wind, I
hugged myself in my plaid, and it was as though her arms
were flung around me.

CHAPTER XII

I FOLLOW A COVEIIED CAKT NEARLY TO MY nESTINATION

At lust I began to draw near, by reasonable stages, to
tlie neighbouriiood of Wakefield ; and tlie name of Mr.
Burcliell Fenn came to the top in my memory. Tiiis was
the gentleman (the reader may remember) who made a
trade of forwarding the escape of Frencli prisoners. How
lie did so : whether he had a signboard, Escupes for-
warded, apply within; what he charged for his services,
or whether they Wire gratuitous and charitable, were all
matters of whioh I was at once ignorant and extremely
curious. Thanks to my proficiency in English, and Mr.
Romaine's bank-notes, I was getting on swimmingly with-
out him ; but the trouble was that I could not be easy till
I had come at the bottom of those mysteries, and it was my
difficulty that I knew nothing of him beyond the name.
I knew not his trade — beyond thpt of Forwarder of Es-
capes— whether he lived in town or country, whether he
were rich or poor, nor by what kind of address I was to
gain his confidence. It would have a very bad appearance
to go along the highwayside asking after a man of whom I
could give so scanty an account ; and I should look like a
fool, indeed, if I were to present myself at his door and
find the police in occupation ! The interest of the conun-
drum, however, tempted me, and I turned aside from my
direct road to pass by Wakefield ; kept my ears pricked as
I went for any mention of his name, and relied for the rest

119

120

ST. IVES

on ray good ,„rt„„c. „ i,,,^,, („,,„ ,„„^j
mmc) favoiucl mo as &r ,is to tlirow mo in t.hr m.,,,'
I should owo th„ l,;d, a oaudio ; i, not I , rvoTy oS
ccsok m,solf. In this o.ponmonta'l h„mo n'ni wi^^h
0 htt 0 to help me, it ™ a miraole that I should have

r. ra-clouds that had hognn to assemble in the north- ves^
and from that quarter invaded the whole wid th „ th '

arai^s ts ;a':: ;:,d7i„rdr s ttd';;;^^^ »'

dint of fl,!^ ", • ' " ™"'''' °' "'" ™"'' ""J l-y "'e la^t
t at 1 thought I had never seen before, preceding mc at
the foofs paoe of jaded horses. Anjthi .g is interelin" to

l^otlZ "'",' 7T '"'" ■'"" '» '"■■s«' "■« ■"^- o'

iook thr::,;iet '°""^' •^'^^^ ""^ s''"""""'^ «--

The nearer I came, the more .t puzzled mc. It was much
such a cart as I am told the calico printers u mo" 2

ri e? ''S in:"" '"T^'f ''"" " -■" "' '-"»"
ness to eontom a good load of calico, or (at a pinch and if
.t were necessary) four or five persons. But Meed f
human be.ngs were meant to travel there, t^; had my
P'ty! They must travel in the dark, for thefe was Z

I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 121

like a phial of doctor's stuff, for the cart was not only un!
gainly to look at-it was besides very imperfectly balanced

Altoll'"' -n'/^, ^'^''^'' "^^^ P'^^^^^^ unconscionably.
Altogether, if I liad any glancing idea that the cart was

really a carriage, I had soon dismissed it ; bnt I was still
inquisitive as to what it should contain, and where it had
come from Wheels and horses were splashed with many
different colours of mud, as thougli they had come far and
across a considerable diversity of country. The driver con
tinually and vainly plied his whip. It seemed to follow
they had made a long, perhaps an all-night, stage; and
that the driver, at that early hour of a little after eight in
the morning, already felt Iiimself belated. I looked for the
name of the proprietor on the shaft, and started outright,
fortune had favoured the careless : it was Burchell Fonn '
A wet morning, my man," said I.
The driver, a loutish fellow, shock-headed and turnip-
faced, returned not a word to my salutation, but savagefy
flogged his horses. The tired animals, who could JaZ

crno V "' '? ^''r '''' °""^'' P^'^ "« attention to his
cruelty ; and I continued without effort to maintain my
position alongside smiling to myself at the futility of his
att mpts, and at the same time pricked with curfosity a
to wliy he made them. I made no such formidable a fig-
uie as that a man should flee when I accosted him ; and
my conscience not being entirely clear, I was more accus-
tomed to be uneasy myself than to see others timid. Pre -

Te'J^f"''''^' '"^ ^^"' ""''^ ^"^ ^^"P i^ the holster with
the air of a man vanquished.

" So you would run away from me ? " said I. " Come
come, that's not English." '

'* Beg pardon, master : no offence meant." he said, tounh-
mg his hat.

122

ST. IVES

! " cried I. " All I dosiro is a little

"And none taken
gaiety by the way."

I undorstood him to aay he did.i't '• take with ^^aiety."

** Then I will try yon with something else," said I " 0 I

can he all things to all men, like the apostle ! I dare to

say I have travelled with heavier fellows than yon in my

time, and done famonsly well with them. Are yon going

" Yes, I'm a goin' home, I am," he said.

"A very fortunate cireumstanee for me ! " said T «' At
this rate we shall see a good deal of each other, going the
same way ; and, now I come to think of it, why should you
not giv^ me a cast ? There is room beside yon on the
bench."

With a sudden snatch, he carried the cart two yards into
the roadway. The horses i,lung,.d and eanie to a stop,
^o. you don't ! " he said, menacing me with the whip.
"Noneo' that with me."

" None of what ? " said I. " I asked yon for a lift, but
1 inive no idea of taking one by force."

'MVell, I've got to take oare of the cart and 'orses, I
have, says lie. " I don't take up with no runagate va'^a-
bones, yon see, else." '^

;' I ought to thank you for your touching confidence,'*
said 1. approaching carelessly nearer as I spoke. ''But I
admit the road is solitary hereabouts, and no doubt an ac-
cideut soon happens. Little fear of anything of the kind
with you ! I like yon for it, like your prudence, like that
pastoral shyness of disposition. Hut why not put it out
of my power to hurt ? Why not open the door and bestow
me here m the box, or whatever you please to call it?"
And I laid my hand demonstratively on the body of the
cart. *^

He had been timorous before; bnt at this, lie seemed to

I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 123

lose tho power of speech a moment, and stared at me in a
perfect enthusiasm of fear.

"Why not?" I continued. "Tho idea is good. I
should bo safe in there if I were tho monster Williams
Inmsoir The great thin, is to have mo un.ler lock Z
key. l^or it <loes lock ; .t ,s locked now," said I, trying the
door. ' Apropos, what have you for a cargo ? It must he
^)I cciou s.

lie found not a word to answer.

Kat-tat-tat, I went upon tho 'door like a well-drilled
tootnum. "Anv one -it hnmnV" r -i i ,
listen ' stooped to

There came out of the interior a stifled snee^e, the first
of an uncontrollable paroxysm ; another followed imnu-
diately on the heels of it ; and then the driver turned with
HU oath, lu.d the lash upon the horses with so much energy
that they found their heels again, and the whole equipage
iled down the road at a gallop. * ^ ^

At the first sound of the sreeze, I had started back like u
man shot The next moment, a g.eat light Lroke on n.y
mind, and I understood. Here was the secret of Fenn's
trade : this was how he forwarded tlie escape of prisoners,
hawkn^ them by night about the country in hil covered
cart. Ihero had been Frenchmen close to me ; he who had
just sneezed was my countryman, my comrade, perhaps
already my fnend ! I took to my heels in pursuit. - Ho d
hard!" I shouted. "Stop! It's all right ! Stop!" But
the driver only turned a white face on mt for a moment,
and redoubled Ins eiforts, bending forward, plying his whip
and crying to his horses ; these lay themselves down to the
gal op and beat the highway with flying hoofs ; and the
cart bounded after them among the ruts and fled in a halo
had W ""f ^i;f.^tering mud. But a minute since, and it
had been trundling along like a lame cow ; and now it was

124

ST. IVE8

:,( !

off as though drawn by Ai)ollo'a coursers. There is no
toUnig wliut a man can do, until you friglitcn him !

It was as mucli as I couM do myself, though I ran val-
iantly, to maintain my distance ; and that (since I knew
my countrymen so near) was become a chief point with me
A hundred yards farther on the cart whipped out of the
high road into a lane embowered with leafless trees and
became lost to view. When I saw it next, the driver had
increased Ins advantage considerably, but all danger was
at an end, and the liorses had ygain declined into a hob-
bhng walk. Persuaded that they could not escape me, I
took my time, and recovei-ed my breath as I followed
them.

Presently the lane twisted at right angles, and showed
me a gate and the beginning of a gravel sweep ; and a little
after, as I continued to advance, a red brick house about
seventy years old, in a fine style of architecture, and pre-
senting a front of many windows to a lawn and garden
Behind, I conld see outhouses and the peaked roofs of
stacks ; and I judged that a manor-house had in some way
declined to be the residence of a tenant-farmer, careless
alike of appearances and substantial comfort. The marks
of neglect wore visible on every side, in llower-bnshes strag-
gling beyond the borders, in the ill-kept turf, and in the
broken windows that were incongruously patched with
paper or stuffed with rags. A thicket of trees, mostly ever-
green, fenced the place round and secluded it from the
eyes of prying neighbours. As I came in view of it on
that melancholy winter's morning, in the deluge of 'the
falling rain, and with the wind that now rose in occasional
gusts and hooted over the old chimneys, the cart had
already drawn np at the front door steps, and the driver
was already in earnest discourse with Mr. Bnrchell Fenn
He was standing with his hands behind his back--a man of

I FOLLO^'^ A COVERED CAKT 125

lTy''''^T'"\^'^ ""'^ »^"Jy> ^^ewlapped like a bull
unci led as u harvest moon ; and in his jockey can bh.e

The pair continued to speak as I came up the approach

said l!'''''' ^''' ^'''''"''' ""^ '''^'^'''''^''S Mr. Burchell Fenn ? "

- The same, sir," replied Mr. Fenn, taking off his jockev
cap m answer to my civility, but with the distant Took and
the tardy movements of one who continues to think of
sometlung else '' And who may you be ? " he asked!

Isluill tell you afterwards,'^ said I. -Suffice it in
the meantime, that I come on business." '

gapmg. Ins httle eyes never straying from my face.

buffer me to point out to you, sir," I resumed, -that
1. s IS a devil of a wet morning ; and that the chimney

hXir' '°""'^ ' '"''' ^' ^^"^^^'-^ ^^^^ - clearly
Indeed, the rain was now grown to be a debge ; the gut-

ers of the house roared ; the air was filled Jtl the Sn-

tnuous, strident crash. The stolidity of his face, on whicli
the rain streamed, was far from reassuring me On the
contrary, I was aware of a distinct qualm of apprehension
which was not at all lessened I a view of the driver, c an!

ng from his perch to observe us with the expression of a
fascinated bird. So we stood silent, when Ihe prisone
again began to sneeze from tlie body of the cart and I
the sound, prompt as a transformation, the dii;erhad
shipped up his horses and was shambling off and he
corner of the house, and Mr. Fenn, recovering Zw
with a gulp, had turned to the door behind him

126

ST. IVES

" Come in, come in, sir/' he said,
sir; tlie lock goes a trifle liartl."

((

beg your pan] on,

Indeed, it took him a surprising time to open the door
which was not only locked on the outside, but the lock
seemed rebellious from disuse ; and wiien at last he stood
back and motioned me to enter before him, I was greeted
on the threshold by that peculiar and convincing sound of
the ram echoing over empty chambers. The entrance hall
in which I now found myself, was of a good size and good
proportions ; potted plants occupied the corners • the
paved floor was soiled with muddy foo! -n-ints and encum-
bered witli straw ; on a mahogany hall table, which was the
only furniture, a candle had been stuck and suffered to
burn down—plainly a long while ago. for the gutteriiiffs
were green with mould. My mind, under these new iin-
pressions, worked with unusual vivacity. I was here shut
off with Fenn and his hireling in a deserted house, a neg-
lected garden, and a wood of evergreens : the most oli-ible
theatre for a deed of darkness. There camo to mo a vfsion
of tvyo flags raised in the hall floor, and the driver putting
in the rainy afternoon over my grave, and the prospect
displeased me extremely. I felt I had carried my pleasantry
as far as was safe ; I must lose no time in declaring my
true character, and I was even choosing the words in which
I was to begin, when the hall door was slammed to behind
me with a bang, and I turned, dropping my stick as I did
so, m time— and not any more than time— to save my life
The surprise of the onslaught and the huge weight of
my assailant gave him the advantage. He had a pistol in
his right hand of a portentous size, which it took me all
my strength to keep deflected. With his left arm he
strained me to his bosom, so that I thought I must be
crushed or stifled. His mouth was open, his face crimson
and he panted aloud with hard animal sounds. The affair

1 FOLLOW A COVERED CART

127

was as brief as it was liot and sudden. The potations which
had swelled and bloated his carcase had already weakened
the springs of energy. One more huge effort, that came
near to ovcrpouer me, and in wiiich the pistol happily ex-
ploded, an.l J felt his grasp slacken and weakness conic on
Ins joints; his logs succumbed under his weight, and he
grovelled on his knees on tiio stone floor. - Spare me ' "
he gasped.

I had not only been abominably frightened; I was
shocked besides: my delicacy was in arms, like a lady to
whom violence should have been offered by a similar mon-
ster. I plucked myself from his horrid contact, I snatched
the pistol-even discharged, it was a formidable weapon--
and menaced him with the butt. " Spare you ! " I cried •
*' you beast \" '

His voice died in his fat inwards, but his lips still vehe-
mently framed the same words of supplication. My anger
began to pass off, but not all my repugnance ; the picture
he made revolted me, and I was impatient to be spared the
further view of it.

"Here/' said I, "stop this performance : it sickens me
1 am not going to kill you, do you hear ? I have need of
you.

A look of relief, that I could almost have called beauti-
ful, dawned on his countenance. " Anything-anythinir
you wish," said he. '= J b

Anything is a big word, and his use of it brought me
for a moment to a stand. - Why, what do you mean ? " I
asked. '* Do you mean that you will blow the gaff on the
whole business?"

He answered me Yes with eager asseverations.

"I know Monsieur de Saint= Yves is in it ; it was through
his papers we traced you," I said. - Do you consent to
make a cle^n breast of the others ?"

1!^

ST, IVES

I do-I Will !" he cried. -The 'ole crew of 'em ;
there s good names among 'em. I'll be king's evidence "
" So that all shall hang except yourself ? You damned
villain ! I broke out. - Understand at once that I am
no spy or thief-taker. I am a kinsman of Monsieur de
St Yves-here in his interest. Upon my word, you have
put your foot in it prettily, Mr. Burchell Fenn I Come
stand up ; don't grovel there. Stand up, you lump of
iniquity! ^

He scrambled to his feet. He was utterly unmanned,
or It migh have gone hard with me yet ; and'l considered
him hesitating, as, indeed, there was cause. The man was

had first baffled his endeavours and then exposed and in-

mercy? With his help I should doubtless travel more
quickly; doubtless also far less rgreeably; and there was
everything to show that it would be at a greater risk. In
short, I should have washed my hands of him on the spot,
but for the temptation of the French officers, whom I knew
to be so near, and for whose society I felt so great and nat-
nral an impatience. If I was to see anything of my coun-
trymen, it was clear I had first of all to mtke my peace
with Mr. Fenn ; and that was no easy matter. To make
friends with any one implies concessions on both sides •
and what could I concede ? AVhat could I say of him, but
that he had proved himself a villain and a fool, and tho
worse ma'- ?

^' Well," said I, -here has been rather a poor piece of
business, which I daresay you can have no pleasure in call-
ing to mind ; and, to say truth, I would as readily forget
It myself. Suppose we try. Take back your i^istoL which
smells very ill ; put it in your pocket or wherever yon had

if. onnnoolorl Til ? -ht. ■, . . jv^iia\.t.

It concealed, There! Now let us meet for the first

lb time. —

I FOLLOW A COVERED CART

129

Give yon good morning, Mr. Fenn ! I hope you do very
well. I come on the recommendation of my kinsman, the
Vicomte de St. Yves."

" Do you mean it ? " he cried. - Do you mean you will
pass over our little scrimmage ? "

- Why certainly ! " said I. « It shows you are a bold
fellow, who may be trusted to forget the business when it
comes to the point. There is nothing against you in the
little scrimmage, unless that your courage is greater tluui

thaTiJ dT"^^'' ^'" """' "'^ '" ^'""^ "' ^'" ""'^ "'^'•«'

" f ^A ^ ^'^ ""^ y°"' '"■' ^^°"'t betray me to the Vis-
count, he pleaded. - Fll not deny but what my ^eart
failed me a trifle ; but it was only a word, sir, what any-
body might have said in the 'eat of the moment, and over
with it.

- Certainly," said I. " That is quite my own opinion."
Ihe way I came to be anxious about the Vis-count "
he continued, - is that I believe he might be induced to
form an asty judgment. And the business, in a pecuniary
point of view, is all that I could ask ; only trying sir-
very trying It's making an old man of mo before my time
You might have observed yourself, sir, that I 'aven't got
the knees I once 'ad. The knees and the breathing, tlieiVs
where it takes me. But I'm very sure, sir, I address a gen-

frieTd^s "' ^' *^' ^""'^ ^"^ "^^^^ ^'°"^^" ^'^^'^''

<'ll Tv, TUT- ^"^ """ °^ "'^'^ *^^^" J"«*^<^e^" S'^^id I ;
and I shall think it quite unnecessary to dwell on any of

these passing circumstances in my report to the Vicomte "

Which you do favour him (if you'll excuse me being ^o

bold as to mention it) exac'ly ! " said he. - 1 should have

known you anywheres. May I ofPer you a pot of 'ome-

brewed ale, sir ? By your leave ! This way, if you please.

180

ST. IVES

f.iiio« ; i , *^ 'i&bamc, anu alrcut.v he hut]

Mien into an obsequious, wheedling fa„,ili,„.it/,ii' ^.^^^

blunderbuss, ci ^ed „ L „ ' utl Z f T" '"" " '"""
a piece ol field artillery Ho ™J heldf '1 7°" "*"
attention ; and now, as'we came trth t-' I,!'';'" ^f ""

con,e,ortbr:Tr.'^rti: 'r,:Sd rr^r;'

paHo,se..t„„ which Ibadalread^aLttodlirinfe:'
I need not detain the reader verv lonir wJfi, ^ '

in.pudeitTh:t":i::rnti:-f»j^^^^

conquered animosity. I took aTnV^,, { '°™

He wa« ^ood .nTh o dron t ^r^™'? '^ '°"'*''^■••
temn, .e how the ^ fn"^iro/t C S'^

I FOLLOW A COVERED CART

181

p s had provecl a disappointment ; how there was "a
sight of cold wet hind as you come along the 'igh roads-
how the wnuls and rains and the seasons had been misdi-'
re ted It seemed ''o'purpose"; how Mrs. Fenn had died-

wnJr '^'',7"^";S f7 y-^^' ^Sone; a remarkable fine
woman my old girl, sir! if you'll excuse xne/' he added,
..th a burst of humility. In short, he gave me an oppoi
unity of steadying John Hull, as I may say, stuffed naS-
h.s greed, his usuriousness, his hypocrisy, his perfidy of
the back-stairs, all swelled to the superlative-3uch as was
well worth the htt.e disarray and fluster of our passage in

* 4

1 MKKT TWO (»K Mv COl'NTnYMRN"

As soon ,.s I j.ul.0.1 it s;.f... an.l (l.ut wuh not bcforo

; -> ' 1 ^>to ^.,,..1 nnnonr. I ,,,.oiu.so,l |,o hI.ouI.I inlrodnco

"" <^'"'^' '"••^'"'•1' oHi.vrs. lu>n,rr,.i(I, (o iKvun. n.v fel-

^»^v-pas.sonj;ors. Thoro w.ro t woof llu-.u. it a,,,,..a.v,i. ,mmI

I .(.. ,ou. Alhu.u whon. I iKul just luvn st.ulyin. ^hvo
"Mhos n>M.vrx.vst for n.y Mlow-countryn.on. Icoukl

And all (he t.n.e I wa8 uo.nj,. (ou disappointniont

it was in a spaoioiis and low r.io,,,, „itli an onllook on

0 c.u.t. that I fonnd ,lK.n bo^towed. In th;;!!: .^^

hat honse (1,0 upartn.ont had prohahly served as a H-

. or thoro wore traoos of shelves alon.^ the wainscot.

'c.u. o hve niat tresses lay on the Hoor in a eorner. with u

f'wsy heap o bedding; near by V as a basin and a. ^^

n? . ■ ''"' = ""' ^''^" '-^'^'"^ ^^-^^^ ilhuninalod by

no less than fonr windows, and wunned by a little crazy
sidelong grate, propped up with bricks in the ven 7^

ho^ab^ecnnnoy, in which a pile of coals snu.lj;:
d.S ously and gave out a few starveling flan.es. An old
fnu wlnte-han-ed officer sat in one of%he chairs, wl i i
he had drawn close to this apology for a lire. lie was
wrapped m a camlet douk-. of which the collar was tiurd

I MKI'IT TWO o|' MV <()irNritYlMKri

i:n

»il», IiiH km<cH loiiclio.l (|„, |„i,.H, liiH \uuu\h w..n! Hproiul in
flio V(>ry Hrnokn. iid.l y<'(. 1m* Hliivcr.-.f f(,r <(.|.|. Tlio Hoc-
<»ii.l- II, l.iV, (iHri.l. (i,,,. ;,„iriiul (.r !i in;in, wli.wc .w.-ry gonl,-
'"•" l"l'<'ll<"l l>ini (he rnrk of ||„. walk m.kI lUr .Mltniruticm
of (ho liidi.'H—lmd iipi.Hicnlly <|..s|,air(..| <»f ll,,, li,,., ,u„|
now Mlrcl,. ii|, .,,.:! .|(,wii. Hrico/.in^r |,unl, |,ii,(,.,|y I.N.wiii-
liiH noHc. iiii.l piolToriiij; 11 conUmml Htmimof hliistctr, con,'-
J)|jiitil, iiiul haiTuck-rooMi otdhn.

I'Vim sIi()\v(mI iik, in, with (he hricf form of iii(n,(Iii,.f,i„M-
"(Iruilvuwn ull, l.hiH huin'M aiioUior fuin ! " and wuh ^rom,

IIKlllll ill, once. Tho old lllilll KilVO MIO hiil, l,ho OMO ghui.H!

out, ofluck-histro oyos; and ovoii m ho looked n HJiivor
took him us sharp as a hiocoii^r|,. ij,,,, ,1,^ „,j„.,.^ ^^j,,^ ,.,.j,_
ivsoi.I.mI (., admiralimi tho ])i<-tiiro of a Hoaii in a (Jatarrh,
aturod at mo arr()<,Mii(,Iy.

"And whoaroyoii.'Hir?" ho askod.

I inado the militar.v Haliito to my Hiiporiorn.

"Champ.hvers, privato, Eighth of tlio Lino," Haid 1.
I roU.v Imsincss ! " said ho. - A.ul you arc going on
with us I hrco m a cart. at,d a great troiloping private
at that . And who Ih to pay for yon. my lino follow ?"
He iiiijuircd.

;' If inonsiour comes to that," I answered oivilly, « who
paid for him?" ^'

" 0, if yon choose to play tho wit I " .aid he,-and be-
gan o rail at largo upon his destiny, the weather, the cold,
the danger and tho expense of tho osc.pe, and above all,
he cooking of tho accursed English, ft scorned to annov
him particularly that 1 should have joined their part^.
If you knew what you wore doing, thirty thousand mill-
lODB of pigs ! you would keep yourself to yourself ! The
horses can't drag the cart; the roads am all ..,t.s o.-i
swamps. No longer ago than last night the Colonel and I
had to march half the way-tliunder of God !-half the

134

ST. IVES

way to the knees in mnd-and I with this infernal cold-
and the danger of detection ! Happily we met no one : a
desert-a real desert-like the whole abominable country r
Nothmg to eat-no, sir, there is nothing to eat but raw
cow and greens boiled in water-nor to drink but Worces-
tershire sauce ! Now I, with my catarrh, I have no ap, -
tite ; IS It not so ? Well, if I were in France, I should hl^e
a good soup with a crust in it, an omelette, a fowl in rice
a partndgem cabbages-things to tempt me, thunder of
n M \ ^^r«-day of God I-what a country ! And

cold too ! They talk about Russia-this is all tl^ cold I
want! And the people-look at them! What a rl\
mver any handsome men ; never any fine officers ! "-and
he looked down complacently for a moment at his waist-
And the women-what faggots ! ^^o, that is one point
clear, I cannot stomach the English ! "

There was something in this man so antipathetic to me,
as sent the mustard into my nose. I can never bear you;
bucks and dandies, even when they are decent-looking und
well dressed ; and the Major-for that was his rank- was
the image of a flunkey in good luck. Even to be in acrrec-
ment with h.^ or to seem to be so, was more than I could
make out to endure.

-You could scarce be expected to stomach them," said
1, civilly, "after having just digested your parole."

He whipped round on his heel and turned on me a coun-
tenance which I daresay he imagined to be awful ; but an-

lenXftTcr^"^^"' '^"^ '' ''' ^^^ -"^^ -- ^^-
-I have not tried the dish myself," I took the opportu-

find it'so ? " " " '"' '' '' nnpalatable. Did monsieur
With surprising vivacity the Colonel woke from his

lethargy. He was between us ere another word could pass.

I MEET TWO OF Mt COUNTRYMEN 135

" Shame, gentlemen ! " he said. « Is this a time for
Frenchmen and fellow-soldiers to fall out ? Wo are in the
midst of our enemies ; a quarrel, a loud word, may suffice
to plunge us back into irretrievable distress. 3Ionsieur h
Commaiidant, you have been gravely offended. I make it
my request, I make it my prayer— if need be, I give you
my orders— that the matter shall stand by until we come
safe to France. Then, if you please, I will serve you in
any capacity. And for you, young man, you have shown
all the cruelty and carelessness of youth. This gentleman
IS your superior ; he is no longer young"— at which word
you are to conceive the Major's face. - It is admitted he
has broken his parole. I know not his reason, and no
more do you. It might be patriotism in this hour of our
country's adversity, it might be humanity, necessity; you
know not what in the least, and you permit yourself to re-
flect on his honour. To break parole may be a subject for
pity and not derision. I have broken mine— I, a colonel
of the Empire. And why? I have been years negotiating
my exchange, and it cannot be managed ; those who have
influence at the Ministry of War continually rush in be-
fore me, and I have to wait, and my daughter at home is
in a decline. I am going to see my daughter at last, and
It IS my only concern lest I should have delayed too long.
She IS ill, and very ill,-at death's door. Nothing is left
me but my daughter, my Emperor, and my honour ; and
1 give my honour, blame me for it who dare I "
At this my heart smote me.

" For God's sake," I cried, - think no more of what I
have said ! A parole ? what is a parole against life and
death and love ? I ask your pardon ; this gen tie man's also.
As long as I shall be with you, you shall not have cause to
complam of me again, I pray God you will find your
daughter alive and restored."

136

ST. IVES

" That is past praying for," said the Colonel ; and im-
mediately the brief fire died out of him, and returning to
the hearth, he relapsed into his former abstraction.

But I was not so easy to compose. Tlie knowledge of
the poor gentleman's trouble and the sight of his face had
filled me with the bitterness of remorse ; and I insisted
upon shaking hands with the Major (which he did with a
very ill grace), and abounded in palinodes and apologies.

*' After all," said I, " who am I to talk ? I am in the
luck to be a private soldier ; I have no parole to give or to
keep ; once I am over the rampart, I am as free as air. I
beg you to believe that I regret from my soul the use of
tliese ungenerous expressions. Allow me .... Is there
no way in this damned house to attract attention ? Where
is this fellow, Fenn ? "

I ran to one of the windows and threw it open. Fenn,
who was at the moment passing below in the court, cast
up his arms like one in despair, called to me to keep back,
plunged into the house, and appeared next moment in the
doorway of the chamber.

*' 0, sir ! " says he, " keep away from those there win-
dows. A body might see you from the back lane."

"It is registered," said I. " Henceforward I will be a
mouse for precaution and a ghost for invisibility. But in
the meantime, for God's sake, fetch us a bottle of brandy !
Your room is as damp as the bottom of a well, and these
gentlemen are perishing of cokL"

So soon as I luid paid him (for everything, I found, must
be paid in advance), I turned my attention to the fire,
and whether because I threw greater energy into the
business, or because the coals were now warmed and the
time ripe, I soon started a blaze that made the chimney
roar again. The shine of it, in that dark, rainy day,
seemed to reanimate the Colonel like a blink of sun.

I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 137

With the outburst of the flames, besides, a drauglit was
established, which immediately delivered us from the
plague of smoke ; and by the time Feiin returned, carry-
ing a bottle under his arm and a single tumbler in his
hand, there was already an air of gaiety in the room that
did the heart good.
I poured out some of the brandy.
"Colonel," said I, " I am a young man and a private
soldier. I have not been long in this room, and already
I have shown the petulance that belongs to the one char-
acter and the ill manners that you may look for in the
other. Have the humanity to pass these slips over, and
honour me so far as to accept this glass."

"My lad," says he, waking up and blinking at me with
an air of suspicion, " are you sure you can afford it ? "
I assured him I could.

"I thank you, then: I am very cold." He took the
glass out, and a little colour came in his face. " I thank
you again," said he. " It goes to the heart."

The Major, when I motioned him to help himself, did
so with a good deal of liberality ; continued to do so for
tlie rest of the morning, now with some sort of apology,
now with none at all ; and the bottle began to look fool-
ish befoi^e dinner was served. It was such a meal as he
had himself predicted : beef, greens, potatoes, mustard in
a teacup, and beer in a brown jug that was all over
hounds, horses, and hunters, with a fox at the far end
and a gigantic John Bull— for all the world like Fenn—
sitting in the midst in a bob-wig and smoking tobacco.
The beer was a good brew, but not good enough for the
Major; he laced it with brandy— for his cold, he said;
and in this curative design the remainder of the bottle
ebbed away. He culled my attention repeatedly to the
circumstance ; helped me pointedly to the dregs, threw

^38

ST. IVES

the bottle in the air and played tricks with it ; and at last,
having exhausted his ingenuity, and seeing me remain
quite blind to every hint, he ordered and paid for another
himself.

As for the Colonel, he ate nothing, sat sunk in a muse,
and only awoke occasionally to a sense of where he was,
and what he was supposed to be doing. On each of these
occasions he showed a gratitude and kind courtesy that
endeared him to me beyond expression. " Champdivers,
my lad, your health ! " he would say. " The Major and
I had a very arduous march last night, and I positively
thought I should have eaten nothing, but your fortu-
nate idea of the brandy has made quite a new man of
me — quite a new man." And he would fall to with a
great air of heartiness, cut himself a mouthful, and before
he had swallowed it, would have forgotten his dinner, his
company, the place where he then was, and the escape he '
was engaged on, and become absorbed in the vision of a
sick room and a dying girl in France. The pathos of this
continual preoccupation, in a man so old, sick, and over-
weary, and whom I looked upon as a mere bundle of dying
bones and death-pains, put me wholly from my victuals :
it seemed tiiere was an element of sin, a kind of rude bra-
vado of youth, in the mere relishing of food at the same
table with this tragic father ; and though I was well
enough used to the coarse, plain diet of the English, I ate
scarce more than himself. Dinner was hardly over before
he succumbed to a lethargic sleep ; lying on one of the
mattresses with his limbs relaxed, and his breath seem-
ingly suspended— the very image of dissolution.

This left the Major and myself alone at the table. You
must not suppose our ttle-a-tUe was long, but it was a
lively period while it lasted. Ho drank like a fish or an
Englishman ; shouted, beat the table, roared out songs,

I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN

139

quarrelled, made it up again, and at last tried to throw
the dinner-plates through the window, a feat of which ho
was at that time quite incapable. For a party of fugitives,
condemned to the most rigorous discretion, there was
never seen so noisy a carnival ; and through it all the Col-
onel continued to sleep like a child. Seeing the Major
so well advanced, and no retreat possible, 1 made a fair
wind of a foul one, keeping liis glass full, pushing him
with toasts ; and sooner than I could have dared to hope,
he became drowsy and incoherent. With the wrong-head-
edncss of all such sots, he would not be persuaded to lie
down upon one of the mattresses until I had stretched
myself upon another. But the comedy was soon over ;
soon he slept the sleep of the just, and snored like a mil-
itt*vy music ; and I might get up again and face (as best I
could) the excessive tedium of the afternoon.

I luid i)assed the night before in a good bed ; I was de-
nied the resource of slumber ; and there was nothing
open for me but to pace the apartment, maintain the fire,
and brood on my position. I compared yesterday and to-
day— tlie safety, comfort, jollity, open-air exercise and
pleasant roadside inns of the one, with the tedium, anx-
iety, and discomfort of the other. I remembered that I
was in the hands of Fenn, who could not b«^ more false
— though he m.ight be more vindictive — than I fancied
him. I looked forward to nights of pitching in the cov-
ered cart, and days of monotony in I knew not what
hiding-places ; and my heart failed me, and I was in two
minds whether to slink off ere it was too late, and return
to my former solitary way of travel. But the Colonel
stood in the path. I had not seen much of him ; but al-
ready I judged him a man of a childlike nature — with that
sort of innocence and courtesy that, I think, is only to be
found in old soldiers or old priests — and broken with years

;1i
■r n

140

ST. IVES

and sorrow. I conld not turn my back on his distress ;
could not leave him alone with the seliish trooper who
snored on the next mattress. " Champdivers, my lad, your
health ! " said a voice in my ear, and stopped me — and
there arc few things I am more glad of in the retrospect
than that it did.

It must have been about fou" in the afternoon — at least
the rain had taken olT, and the sun was setting Avith some
wintry pomp — when the current of my reflections was ef-
fectually changed by the arrival of two visitors in a gig.
They were farmers of the neighbourhood, I suppose — big,
burly fellows in great-coats and top-boots, mightily flushed
with liquor when they arrived, and before they left, in-
imitably drunk. They stayed long in the kitchen with
BurchcU, drinking, shouting, singing, and keeping it up ;
and the sound of their merry minstrelsy kept me a kind of
company. If it was scarce tuneful, it was at least more
so than the bestial snoring of the Major on the mattress.
The night fell, and the shine of the fire brightened and
blinked on the panelled wall. Our illuminated windows
must have been visible not only from the back Hue of
which Fenn had spoken, but from the court where the
farmers' gig awaited them. When they should come forth,
they must infallibly perceive the chamber to be tenanted ;
and suppose them to remark upon the circumstance, it be-
came a question whether Fenn was honest enough to wish
to protect us, or would have sense enough left, after his
long potations, to put their inquiries by. In the far end
of the firelit room lay my companions, the one silent, the
other clamorously noisy, the images of death and drunken-
ness. Little wonder if I were tempted to join in the cho-
ruses below, and sometimes could hardly refrain from
laughter, and sometimes, I believe, from tears — so unmiti-
gated was the tedium, so cruel the suspense, of this period.

I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN

141

At last, about six at night, T should fancy, the noisy
minstrels appeared in the court, headed by Fenn with a
lantern, and knocking together as they came. The vis-
itors clambered noisily into the gig, one of them shook the
reins, and they were snatched out of sight and hearing
with a suddenness that partook of the nature of prodigy.
I am well aware there is a Providence for drunken men,
tliat holds the reins for them and presides over their trou-
bles ; doubtless he had his work cut out for him with this
particular gigful ! Fenn rescued his toes with an ejacu-
lation from under the departing wheels, and turned at
once with uncertain steps and devious lantern to the far
end of the court. There, through the open doors of a
coach-house, the shock-headed lad was already to be seen
drawing forth the covered cart. If I wished any private
talk with our host, it must be now or never.

Accordingly I groped my way downstairs, and came to
him as he looked on at and lighted the harnessing of the
horses.

" The hour approaches when we have to part," said I ;
"and I shall be obliged if you will tell your t.rvant to
drop me at the nearest point for Dunstable. I am de-
termined to go so far with our friends. Colonel X and
Major Y, but my business is peremptory, and it takes me
to the neighbourhood of Dunstable."

Orders were given, to my satisfaction, with an obsequi-
ousness that seemed only inflamed by his potations.

CHAPTER XIV

TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART

My companions were aroused with difficulty : the Colonel
poor old gentleman, to a sortof permanent dream, in which
you could say of him only that he was very deaf and anx-
iously pohte ; the Major still maudlin drunk. We had a
dish of tea by the fireside, and then issued like criminals
into the scathing cold of the night. For the weather had
111 the meantime changed. Upon the cessation of the rain
a strict frost had succeeded. The moon, being young, was
already near the zenith when we started, glittered every-
Avhere on sheets of ice, and sparkled in ten thousand icicles
A more unpromising night for a journey it was hard to
conceive. But in the course of the afternoon the horses
had been well roughed ; and King (for such was the name
o± the shock-headed lad) was very positive that he could
drive us without misadventure. He was as good as his
word ; indeed, despite a gawky air, he was simply invalu-
able in his present employment, showing marked sagacity
m all that concerned the care of horses, and guiding us by
one short cut after another for days, and without a fault.

The interior of that engine of torture, the covered cart,
was fitted wi . a bench, on which we took our places ; the
door was shut ; in a moment, the night closed upon us
solid and stifling ; and we felt that we were being driven
carefully out of the courtyard. Careful was the word all
niglit, and it was an alleviation of our miseries that we did

142

TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART

143

not often enjoy. In general, as we were driven the oetter
part of the night and day, often at a pretty quick puce and
always through a labyrinth of the most infamous country
lanes and by-roads, we were so bruised upon the bench, so
dashed against the top and sides of the cart, that we reached
the end of a stage in truly pitiable case, sometimes flung
ourselves down without tiio formality of eaiing, made but
one sleep of it until the hour of departure returned, and
were only properly awakened by the first jolt of the re-
newed journey. There were interruptions, at times, that
we hailed as alleviations. At times the cart was bogged,
once it was upset, and we must alight and lend the driver
the assistance of our arms ; at times, too (as on the oc-
casion when I had first encountered it), the horses gave
out, and we had to trail alongside in mud or frost until the
first peep of daylight, or the approach to a hamlet or a
high road, bade us disappear like ghosts into our prison.

The main roads of England are incomparable for ex-
cellence, of a beautiful smoothness, very ingeniously laid
down, and so well kept that in most weathers you could
take your dinner off any part of them witliout distaste.
On them, to the note of the bugle, the mail did its sixty
miles a day; innumerable chaises whisked after the
bobbing postboys ; or some young blood would flit by in
a curricle and tandem, to the vast delight and danger of
the lieges. On them, the slow-pacing waggons made a
music of bells, and all day long the travellers on horseback
and the travellers on foot (like happy Mr. St. Ives so little
a while before !) kept coming and going, and baiting and
gaping at each other, as though a fair were due, and they
were gathering to it from all England. No, nowhere in
the world is travel so great a pleasure as in that country.
But unhappily our one need was to be secret ; and all this
rapid and animated picture of the road swept quite apart

144

ST. IVES

from us, as wc lumbered up hill and down dale, under
hedge and over stone, among circuitous byways. Only
twice did I receive, as it were, a whii! of the higliway.
The first reached my curs alone. I miglit have been any-
where. I only knew I was walking in the dark night and
among ruts, when I heard very fur off, over the silent
country that surrounded us, the guard's horn wailing its
eignul to the next post-house for a change of horses. It
was like the voice of the day heard in darkness, a voice of
the world heard in prison, the note of a cock crowing in
the mid-seas— in short, I cannot tell you what it was like,
you will have to fancy for yourself— but I could have wei)t
to hear it. Once we were belated : the cattle could hardly
crawl, the day was at hand, it was a nipping, rigorous
morning, King was lushing his horses, I was giving an arm
to the old Colonel, and the Major was coughing in our
rear. I must suppose that King was a thought careless,
being nearly in desperation about his team, and, in spite
of the cold morning, breathing hot with his exertions.
We came, at last, a little before sunrise to the summit of
a hill, and saw the high-road passing at right angles through
an open country of meadows and hedgerow pollards ; and
not only the York mail, speeding smoothly at the gallop
of the four horses, but a post-chaise besides, with the post-
boy titupping briskly, and the traveller himself putting his
head out of the window, but whether to breathe the dawn,
or the better to observe the passage of the mail, I do not
know. So that we enjoyed for an instant a picture of free
life on the road, in its most luxurious forms of despatch
and comfort. And thereafter, with a poignant feeling of
contrast in our hearts, we must mount again into our
wheeled dungeon.

We came to our stages at all sorts of odd hours, and they
were in all kinds of odd places. I may say at once that

TKAVHiLS OF THE COVKllKD CAUT

145

my first exporienco was my best. Nowliere again wore wo
so well entertained as at ]iureliell Fenn's. And this, I
suppose, was natural, and indeed inevitable, in so long and
secret a journey. The first stop, wo lay six hours in a
barn standing by itself in a poor, marshy orciiard, and
l)acked with hay ; to make it more attractive, wo were
told it had been the scene of an abominable murdir, and
was now haunted. But the day was beginning to break,
and our fatigue was too extreme for visionary terrors.
The second or third, we .dighted on a barren heath about
midnight, built a flro to warm uf? um^er the shelter of some
thorns, supped like beggars on bread and a piece of cold
bacon, and slept like gipsies with our feet to the fire. In
the meanwhile, King was gone with the cart, 1 know not
where, to get a change of horses, and it was late in the
dark morning when he returned and we were able to re-
sume our journey. In the middle of another night, we
came to a stop by an ancient, whitewashed cottage of two
stories; a privet hedge surrounded it; the frosty moon
shone blankly on the upper windows ; but through those
of the kitchen the firelight was seen glinting on the roof
and reflected from the dishes on the wall. Here, after
much hammering on the door, King managed to arouse an
old crone from the chimney-corner chair, Avhcre she had
been dozing in the watch ; and we were had in, and enter-
tained with a dish of hot tea. Tliis old lady was an aunt of
Burchell Fenn's— and an unwilling partner in his danger-
ous trade. Though the house stood solitary, and the hour
was an unlikely one for any passenger upon the road, King
and she conversed in whispers only. There was something
dismal, something of the sick-room, in this perpetual,
guarded sibilation. Tiie apprehensions of our liostess in-
sensibly communicated themselves to every one present.
We ate like mice in a cat's ear ; if one of us jingled a tea-
10

140

ST. IVES

spoon, all would start ; and when the hour canio to tuko
tiie roud again, wo drew a long breath of relief, and climbed
to our places in the covered cart with a positive sense of
escape. The most of our meals, however, were taken
boldly at hedgerow alehouses, usually at untimely hours of
the day, when the clients were in the tield or the farmyard
at labour. 1 shall have to tell present ! y of our last ex-
perience of the sort, and how unfortunately it miscarried ;
but as that was the signal for my separation from my fellow-
travellers, I must first Ihiish with them.

I had never any occasion to Avavcr in my first judgment
of the Colonel. The old gentleman seemed to me, and
still seems in the retrospect, the salt of the earth. I had
occasion to see him in the extremes of hardship, hunger
and cold ; he was dying, and he looked it ; and yet I can-
not remember any hasty, harsh, or impatient word to have
fallen from his lips. On the contrary, he ever showed
himself careful to please ; and even if ho rambled in his
talk, rambled always gently — like a humane, half-witted
old hero, true to his colours to the last. I would not dare
to say how often he awoke suddenly from a lethargy, and
told us again, as though we had never heard it, the story of
how he had earned the cross, how it had been given him
by the hand of the Emperor, and of the innocent — and,
indeed, foolish — sayings of his daughter when he returned
with it on his bosom. He had another anecdote which he
was very apt to give, by way of a rebuke, when the Major
wearied us beyond endurance with dispraises of the Eng-
lish. This was an account of the braves gens Avith whom
he had been boarding. True enough, he was a man so
simple and grateful by nature, that the most common
civilities were able to touch liim to the heart, and would
remain written in his memory ; but from a thousand in-
considerable but conclusive indications, I gathered that

TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART

147

this family had really loved him, and loaded him with
kindness. They made a fire in his bedroom, which the
sons and daughters tended with their own hands ; letters
from France were looked for with scarce more eagerness
by himself than \)j ihc io alien sympathisers; when they
came, he would r«ad th.^n aloud in the parlour to the
assembled family, v unalut/ngas he wont. The Colonel's
English was elenu tary; liis daughter not in the leas^.
likely to be an amus;iig correspondent ; and, as I conceived
these scenes in the parlour, I felt sure the interest centred
in the Colouid himself, and I thought I could feel in my
own heart that mixture of the ridiculous and the pathetic,
the contest of tears and laughter, which must have shaken
the bosoms of the family. Their kindness had continued
till the end. It appears they were privy to his flight, the
camlet cloak had been lined expressly for him, and he was
the bearer of a letter from the daugliter of the house to his
own daugliter in Paris. Tiie last evening, when the time
came to say good-night, it was tacitly known to all that
they were to look upon his face no more. He rose, plead-
ing fatigue, and turned to the daughfrv, who had been his
chief ally :.'*You Avill permit me, my dear— to an old and
very unhappy soldier— and may Cod bless you for your
goodness !" The girl threw her arms about his neck and
sobbed upon his bosom ; the lady of the house burst into
tears ; " ef je rous hjure, le pere semovchait ! " quoth the
Colonel, twisting his moustaches with a cavalry air, and at
the same time blinking the water from his eyes at the
mere recollection.

It was a good thought to me that he had found these
friends in captivity ; that he had started on this fatal jour-
ney from so cordial a farewell. He had broken his parole
for his daughter : that he should ever live (o reach her
sick bed, that he could continue to endure to an end the

148

ST. IVES

hardships, the crushing fatigue, the savage cold, of our
pilgnmage, I had early ceased to hope. I did for him
what I was able,-„„rsed him, kept him covered, watched
over h,s slumbers, sometimes held him iu my ar^s at he

" ™t at"^"' "" T'- " «>™P'«vers, Ae once sa

yoil are hke a son to me-like a son." It is good to re
member, though at the time it put me on the Sck AM
was to no purpose. Fast as we' were travel ingtowa^

wr^bailvT '"™"'"« '-'- '"" t» -'O'hef desti*
t on. Daily he grew weaker and more indifferent. An
old rustic accent of Lower Normandy reappeared in Z
speech, from which it had long been banished, and grew
ronger; old words of tU patois, too: ouisleha,„^,Z
tr„Me and others, the sense of which we were sometimes
unable to guess On the very last day he began aga 1
eternal story of the cross and the Emperor. SheXio
who was parbcularly ill, or at least particularly cro^ut:
red some angry words of protest. " PanlonneLoi, ,, .

ZodV'"'^ 'r" "'"'* ^"""- "«««'■""■/' said the

Coonel. "Monsieur has not yet henrd the circumstance
and IS good enough to feel an interest." Presently, aft '
however, he began to lose the thread of his narrative .nd
a las : " Quetuefai? Je n^e,„lroume ! " says he, "C'
nt: smaUdonm, ,t Bmihe en ttait iicn conienfe" It

stutir d°:^r """^ -' '-^ "'--'^ - ^-^^ -^-'-^ ■" «-

Sure enough, in but a little while after, he fell into a
sleep a, gentle as an infant's, which insensibly clmfged
m to the sleep of death. I had my arm about his My at
the time and remarked nothing, unless it were that he
once s retched himself a little, so kindly the end came o
that disastrous life. It was only at our evening C^i'^,
the Major and I discovered we were travelling lone wUh
the poor clay. That night we stole a spade from a fldd-

TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 149

I think near Market Bosworth-and a little farther on in
a wood of young oak trees and by the liglit of King's Ian
tern, we buried the old soldier of the Empire with both
prayers and tears.

We had needs invent Heaven if it Lad not been revealed
to us ; there are some things that fall so bitterly ill on this
side Time ! As for the Major, I have long since forgiven
him. He broke the news to the poor Colonel's daughter •
I am told he did it kindly ; and s re, nobody could have
done It without tears ! His share of Purgatory will be
brief ; and in this world, as I could not very well praise
him, I have suppressed his name. The Colonel's also, for
the sake of his parole. Requiescant.

and

CHAPTER XV

THE ADVENTUUE 01-' THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK

I HAVE nitMitioncd our usiuil course, wliicli was to eat
in incon.«uIcrable wayside liostelrios, known to King. It
was a dangerous business : we wont daily under lire to
satisfy our appetite, and put our head in the lion's mouth
for a piece of bread. Sometimes, to minimise the risk, we
would all dismount before we came in view of tiie house
straggle in severally, and give what orders we pleased, like
disconnected strangers. In like manner we departed, to
imd the cart at an appointed place, some half a mile bo^
yond. The Colonel and the Major had each a word or two
of English,— (Jod help their pronunciation ! Jiut they
did well enough to order a rasher and a pot or call a mck-
omng ; and, to say truth, these country folks did not give
themselves the pains, and liad scarce the knowledge, to be
critical.

About nine or ten at night the pains of hunger and cold
drove us to an alehouse in the flats of Bedfordshire, not far
from P-Mlford itself. In the inn kitchen Mas a long, lean,
characteristic-looking fellow of perhaps forty, dressed in
bhack. He sat on a settle by the fireside, smoking a long'
pipe, such as they call a yard of clay. His hat and wig
were hanged upon the knob behind him, liis head as bald as
a bladder of lard, and his expression very shrewd, cantan-
kerous, and inquisitive. He seemed to value himself above
his company, to give himself the airs of a man of the world

150

ADVENTURK OP THE ATTORNEY'S CLSRK IHl

among that rustic herd ; whicli was often no more thtui
his due ; being, as I afterwards discovoi-ed, an attorney's
clerk. I took upon myself the more ungrateful part of ar-
riving last ; and by tlie time I entered on the scene the
Major was already rved at a side taijle. Some general
conversation must liave passed, and I smelled danger in
the air. The Major looked llustered, the afctorney's°clerk
triumphant, and the three or four peasants in smock-
frocks (who sat about the fire to play chorus) liad let their
pipes go out.

"Give you good evening, sir!" said the attorney's
clerk to me.

"The same to you, sir," said I.

" I think this one will do," quoth the clerk to the yokels
with a wink ; and then, as soon as I had given my order,
" Pray, sir, whither are you bound ? " he added.

" 8ir," said I, '^ am not one of those who speak either
of their business or their destination in houses of public
entertainment."

" A good answer," said he, " and an excellent principle.
Sir, do you speak P'rench ? "

"Why, no, sir," said I. "A little Spanish at your
service. "

" But you know the French accent, perhaps ?" said the
clerk.

" Well do I do that ! " said I. " The French accent ?
Why, I believe I can tell a Frenchman in ten words."

" Here is a puzzle for you, then ! " he said. " I have no
material doubt myself, but some of these gentlemen are
more backward. The lack of education, you know. I
make bold to say that a man cannot walk, cannot hear,
and cannot see, without the blessings of education."

He turned to the Major, whose food plainly stuck in his
throat.

162

ST. IVES

" Now, sir," pursued tlie clerk, " let me have the pleas-
ure to licar your voice again. Whei'c are you goiuff did
you say ? " » e>

" Sare, I am go— ing to Lon— don," said the Major
I could liave flung my plate at him to be such an ass

and to have so little a gift of languages where that was the

essential.

"What think ye of that ?" said the clerk, '^s that
French enougli ?"

- Good God ! " cried I, '- .,^.ng up like one who should
suddenly perceive an acquamlance, " is this you, Mr. Du-
bois ? Wh3', who would have dreamed of encountering
you so far from home ? " As I spoke, I shook hands with
the Major heartily ; and turning to our tormentor " 0
sir, you may be perfectly reassured ! This is a very honest
fellow, a lute neighbo a- of mine in the city of Carlisle."

I tho'ight tlie attorney looked put out ; I knew little the
man !

"But he is French," said he, "for all that ?"

" Ay, to be sure ! " said I. " A Frenchman of the emi-
gration ! None of your Buonaparte lot. I will warrant
lus views cf politics to be as sound as your own."

" What is a little strange," said the clerk quietly, " is
that Mr. Dubois should deny it."

I got it fair in the face, and took it smiling ; but the
shock was rude, and in the course of the next words I
contrived to do what I have rarely done and make a slip in
iny English. I kept my liberty and life by my proficiency
all these months, and for once timt I failed, it is not to be
supposed that I would make a public exhibition of the de-
tails Enough, that it was a very little error, and one that
might have passed ninety-nine times in a hundred. But
my limb of the law was as swift to pick it up as though he
had been by trade a master of languages.

ADVENTUKI5 OF TilK ATTOKNEY's CLKKK W'S

"Aha! "cries he; -and you are French, too! Your
tongue bewrays you. Two Fronclunen coming into an ale-
house, several y and accidentally, not knowing each other,
at ten of the clock at night, in tlie middle of Bedfordshire >
No, sir, that shall not pass ! You are all prisoners escap-
ing, If you are nothing worse. Consider yourselves under
arrest I have to trouble you fo- your papers."

Where is your warrant, if you come to that ?" said I
My papers ! A likely thing that I would show my pa^

Eousef" '^''''"'' "' "^ ""'"°"" '^"^" '"^^-^g«

" Would you resist the law ? " says he

-Not the law, sir," said I. - 1 hope I am too good a

ubject for that. But for a nameless fellow with a bald

head and a pair of gingham small-clothes, why, certainly !

lis my birthright as an Englishman. Where's Magna

(Jliarta, else ? " ^

^ " VYe will see about that," says he ; and then, address-
ing the assistants, '' where does the constable live V"

''Lord love you, sir !" cried the landlord, -what are
you tlunking of ? The constable at past ten at night !
VV iiy, he s abed and asleep, and good and drunk two hours
agone ! "

"Ah, that a' be ! " came in chorus from the yokels.

ihe attorney's clerk was put to a stand. lie could not
think of force ; there was little si.-, of martial ardour
about the landlord, and the peasaiM ■: were inditferen -
they only listened, and gaped, and now scratched a head
Hud now would get a light to their pipes from the embers
on the hearth. On the other hand, the Major and I put
a bold front on the business and defied him, not without
some ground of law. In this state of matters he proposed
, 1 should go along with him to one Squire Merton, a great
man of tlie neighbourhood, who was in the commission of

154

ST. IVKS

the peace, and the ^-nd of hif). avenue but three hines away.
I told liim I would uot stir u loot for him if it were to Ra\b
liis soul. Next he proposed I .should sta> all night where
1 was, and i!ie consta,ble could see to my affair in Uie morn-
ing, when lie was sober. I replied i siioidd go when and
v.here T pleased ; that we were lawful travellers in the fear
of fk>d itnd the kiug, and I for one would suffer myself to
be atav'^il Ijy nobody. At the same time, I was thinking
the ni!i(ter had lasted altogether too long, and I determined
to bring it to an end at once.

"See here," said I, getting up, for t'll now I had re-
mained carelessly seated, "there's only oiie way to decide
a thing like this — only one way that's right English — and
tliat's man to man. 'J'ake off' your coat, sir, and these gen-
tlemeii shall see fair play."

At this there came a look in his eye that 1 could not mis-
take. His education had been neglected in one essential
and eminently British particular : he could not box. No
more could I, you may say ; but then I had the more im-
pudence— and I had made the proposal.

" He says I'm no Englishman, but the proof of the pud-
ding is the eating of it," I continued. And here I stripped
my coat and fell into the proper attitude, which was Just
about all I knew of this barbarian art. "Why, sir, you
seem to me to hang back a little," said I. " Come, I'll
meet you ; I'll give yon an appetiser— though hang me if
I can understand the man that wants any enticement to
hold up his hands." I drew a bank-no ait of my fob
and tossed it to the landlord. " There ,, . the stakes,"
said I. • .'11 fight you for first b'.v. ;1 ce you seem to
make so ■ ; ;h work about it. If Vi>;i tu^- my claret first,
there are five guineas for you, and I U go with you to any
squire you choose to mention. If I tajt y-nrs, you'll per-
haps let on that I'm the better man, anu -'iow me to go

ADVENTUIIE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 155

about my lawful business at my own time and convenience,
by God ! Is that fair, my lads ?" says J, ai)pealing to the
company.

" %> ay/' said the chorus of chaAvbacons ; " he can't
say no fairer nor that, lie can't. Take thy coat off,
master ! "

The limb of the law was now on the wrong side of public
opinion, and, what heartened me to go on, the position
was rapidly changing in our fiivour. Already the Major
was paying his shot to the very indifferent landlord, anil 1
could sec the white face of King at the back door, mak-
ing signals of haste.

" Oho ! " quoth my enemy, *' you are as full of doubles as
a fox, arc you not ? But I see through you ; I see tii rough
and through you. You would change the venue, would
you ? "

"I may be transparent, sir," says I, "but if you'll do
me the favour to stand up, you'll find I can hit damn hard."

'* Which is a point, if you will observe, that I have
never called in question," said he. " Why, you ignorant
clowns," ho proceeded, addressing the company, "can't
you see the fellow is gulling you before your eyes ? Can't
you see that he's changed the point upon me ? I say he's
a French prisoner, and he answers tliat he can box ! What
has that to do with it ? I would not wonder but what he
can dance, too— they're all dancing masters over there. I
say, and I stick to it, that he's a Frenchy. He says ho
isn't. Well, then, let him out with his papers, if he has
them ! If he had, would he not show them ? If he had,
would he not jump at the idea of going to Squire Merton'
a man you all know ? Now, you're all plain, straightfor-
ward Bedfordshire men, and I wouldn't ask a better lot to
appeal to. You're not the kind to be talked over with any
French gammon, and he's plenty of that. But let me tel}

ST. IVES

him, he can take his pigs to another market ; they'll never
do here; they'll never go down in Bedfordshire. Why,
look at the man ! Look at his feet ! Has anybody got a
foot in the room like that ? See how he stands ! do iiriy
of you fellows stand like that ? Does the landlord, there ?
Why, he has Frenchman wrote all over him, as big as a
sign-post ! "

This was all very well ; and in a different scene, I miglit
even have been gratified by his remarks ; but I saw clearly,
if I were to allow him to talk, he might turn the tables on
me altogether, lie might not be much of a hand at box-
ing ; but I was much mistaken, or he had studied forensic
eloquence in a good school. In this predicament, I could
think of nothing more ingenious than to burst out of the
house, under the pretext of an ungovernable rage. It was
certainly not very ingenious— it was elementary ; but I had
no choice.

" You white-livered dog ! " I broke out. '* Do yon dare
to tell me you're an Englishman, and won't fight ? But
I'll stand no more of this ! I leave this place, where I've
been insulted! Here! what's to pay? Pay yourself!"
I went on, offering the landlord a handful of silver, " and
give me back my bank-note ! "

The landlord, following his usual policy of obliging
everybody, offered no opposition to my design. The posi-
tion of my adversary was now thoroughly bad. He had lost
my two companions. He was on the point of losing me
also. There was plainly no hope of arousing the company
to help ; and, watching him with a corner of my eye, I saw
him hesitate for a moment. The next, he had taken down
his hat and his wig, which was of black horsehair ; and I
saw him draw from behind the settle a vast hooded great-
coat and a small valise. •'•'The devil!" thought I: "is the
rascal going to follow me ? "

ADVENTUKK OF THK ATTOKNKY's CLERK 157

I was scarce clear of tlie inn before the limb of the law
was at my heels. I saw his face plain in the moonlight;

M the most resolute purpose showed in it, along with an
unmoved composure. A chill went over me. " This is no
common adventure/' thinks I to myself. '' You have got
hold of a man of character, St. Ives ! A bite-hard, a bull-
dog, a weasel is on your trail ; and how are you to throw
him oif ?" Who was he ? By some of his expressions I
judged he was a hanger-on of courts. But in what charac-
ter had he followed the assizes ? As a simple spectator, as
a lawyer's clerk, as a criminal himself, or— last and worst
supposition— as a Bow-street "runner" ?

The cart would wait for me, perhaps, half a mile down
our onward road, which I was already following. And I
told myself that in a few minutes' walking, Bow-strept
"runner" or not, I should have him at my mercy. A;,d
then reflection came to me in time. Of all things, one was
out of the question. Upon no account must this obtrusive
fellow see the cart. Until I had killed or shook him off, I
was quite divorced from my companions— alone, in the
midst of England, on a frosty by-way leading whither I
knew not, with a sleuth-hound at my heels, and never a
friend- but the holly-stick !

We came at the same time to a crossing of lanes. The
branch to the left was overhung with trees, deep] • ?irr,ken
and dark. Not a ray of moonlight penetrated its recesses ;
and I took it at a venture. The wretch followed my ex-
ample in silence ; and for some time we crunched together
over frozen pools without a word. Then he found his voice,
with a chuckle.

" This is not the way to Mr. Morton's," said he,

'* No ? " said I. " It is mine, however."

" And therefore mine," said he.

Again we fell silent ; and we may thus have covered half

>M^^t'm^

ST. IVES

l!:i'

a nnle before the lane, taking a sud.len turn, brouglit us
for 1, apun into the moonshi.ie. With his hooded great-coat
on his back. Ins valiso in hi« huud, his black wig adjusted,
and footing it on the ice with a sort of sober dogc^edness of
manner n.y onemy was changed almost beyond recognition •
changed ,n everything but a certain dry, polemical, pedan-
tic air, that spoke of a sedentary occupation and high stools.
I observed, too that his valise was heavy ; and, putting this
and that together, hit upon a i)lan.

'; A seasonable night, sir," said I. - What do you say to
a bit of running ? The frost has me by the toes."
'' With all the pleasure in life," says'he.
His voice seemed well assured, which pleased -le little
However, there was nothing else to try, except violence, for
which It would always be too soon. I took to my heels
accordingly, he after me ; and for some time the slappincr
of our foet on the hard road might have been heard a mile
away. He had started a pace behind me. and he Hnislied
in l.e same position. For all his extra years and the weight
ot his valise, he Jiad not lost a hair's breadth. The devil
might race him for me- had enough of it !

And, L ides, tu run so lust was contrary to my interests.
We could not run long without arriving somewhere. At
any moment ve miglit turn a corner • nd find ourselves at
the lodge-gate of some Squire Merton, in the midst of a
vil age whose constable was .ober, or in the bauds uf a
patrol. Ihere was no h^lp fe: .t-1 must finish with him on
the spot, as long as il . possible. I looked about me, and
the place seemed su .ie .ever a light, never a hou. o-
nothing butstubble-t. .ds, fahows, and a feu stunted trees.

1%P'^ ^"^ '^"'^ ^""^ '^ *''e moonlight with an angry stare
''Enough of this foolery ! " said I. « J' ^^e. ^

He had turned, and now faced mc full, very pale, but
With no sign of shrinking. ^

ADVKNTUIJE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLEUK 159

''I am qiiito of your opinion," said he. "You huvo
tried mo at the running ; you can try me next at tlie high
jump. It will be jill the same. It must end the one
way."

I made my holly whistle about my head.

"I believe you know wiiat way!" said I. "We are
alone, it is night, and I am wholly resolved. Are you not
frightened?"

" Ko," he huid, " not in the smallest. I do not box, sir ;
but I am not a coward, as you may have supposed. Per-
haps it will simplify our relations if I tell you at the outset
that I walk armed."

Quick as lightning I made a feint at his head ; as quickly
he gave ground, and at the same time I saw a pistol glitter
in his hand.

" No more of that, Mr. French-Prisoner ! " he said. "It
will do mo no good to luive your death at my door."

" Faith, nor mo either ! " said I ; and I l(>wered my stick
and considered the man, not without a twinkle of admira-
tion. " You SCO,'" I said, " there is one consideration that
you appear to overlook : there are a great many chances
that your pistol may miss fire."

" I have a i)air," he returned. " Never travel without a
brace of barkers."

" I make you my compliment," saul I. •■ You are able
to take care of youi'self, and that is a ghud trait. But, my
good man ! lot us look at this mutter dispassionately. You
are not a coward, and no more am I ; we aie both men of
excellent sense ; I have good reason, whatever it may be, to
keep my concerns to myself and to u alk alone. Now. I
put it to you pointedly, am I likely to stand it ? Am I
likely to put up with your continued and— excuse me—
highly impu'.ent inc/rrcnce ijit<. my private afTairs ?"
" Another French word," says he composedly.

160

AT. IVES

••Oldrrun your I'Vendi words !" cried I. " Yon soem
to bo Ji Frencliniiui yourself !"

*• I hiivf had many oi)i)ortunitio8, l)y wliich 1 Imvo
profltoil," he o.xpluiued. '• Few men are bettor acquainted
with tiie HunilaritiesanddilTerences, whetiier of idiom or
accent, of the two languages."

'* You are a jwinpous fellow, too ! " aaid I.
"0, I can niako distinctions, sir," says he. "I can
talk with Medfordahire peasants; and 1 can express nysclf
becomingly. 1 hope, in the company of a gentleman of edu-
cation like yourself."

'•if you set up to be a gentleman " I began.

•' Pardon mo," he interrupted : " 1 make no such claim
I only see tlio nobility and gentry in the way of business.
1 am quite a phun person."

" For the Lord's sake," I exclaimed, ''set my mind at
rest upon one point. In the name of mystery, who and
wJiatare you "i"

*' I have no cause to bo ashamed of my name, sir," said
he, - nor yet my trade. I am Tliomas Dudgeon, at your
service, clerk to Mr. Daniel Komaine, solicitor of London:
iligJi llolborn is our a(hlress, sir."

It was only by the ecstasy of the relief that I knew how
horribly I had been frightened. I flung my stick on the road.
"Komaine?" I cried. -Daniel Romaine .? An old
hunks with a red face and a big head, and got up like a
Quaker ? My dear friend, to my arms ! "
" Keep back, I say ! " said Dudgeon weakly.
I would not listen to him. With the end of my own
alarm, I felt as if I must infallibly be at the end of all
dangers likewise ; as if the pistol that he held in one hand
were no more to be feared than the valise that he carried
with the other, and now put up like a barrier against my
advance.

ADVKNTUIIE OF TIIK ATTOUNEY'S CLEHK 161

"Keep back, or I deolure I will fire," ho wus crying.
" Have a caro, for God'a nnko ! My pistol "

Ho might scream a8 ho pleased. Willy nilly, I folded
him to my breast, I pressed him there, 1 kissed his ugly
mug as it had never been kissed before and would never be
kissed again ; and in the doing so knocked his wig awry
and his hat oil. Ho bleated in my embrace ; so bleats the
fiheep in the arms of the butcher. The whole thing, on
looking back, appears incomparaldy reckless and absurd ;
I no better than a madman for olfcring to advance on
Dudgeon, and he no better than a fool for not shooting me
wbilo I was about it. JJut all's well that ends well ; or,
as the ])eoplo in these days kept singing and whistling oil
the streets : —

" There's a sweet little clierub tiiat sits up aloft,
And looks out for the life of poor Jack."

** There ! " said I, releasing him a little, but still keep-
ing my hands on his shoulders, "./c vans ai bel et Men em-
bmssc-^ml, as you would say, there is another French
word With his wig over one eye, he looked incredibly
rueful and put out. - Cheer up, Dudgeon ; the ordeal is
over, you shall be embraced no more. JJut do, first of all,
for God's sake, put away your pistol ; you handle it as if
It were a cockatrice ; some time or other, depend upon it.
It will certainly go oflF. Here is your hat. No, let me put
It on square, and the wig before it. Never suffer any
stress of circumstances to come between you and the duty
you owe to yourself. If you have nobody else to dress for,
dress for God :

Put your wig straight
On your bald pate,
Keep your <-hin scraped,
And your figure draped.
11

162

ST. IVES

Can you match me that ? The wliolo duty of man in a
quatrain ! And remark, I do not set up to be a profes-
sional bard ; these are the outpourings of a dilettante."

" But, my dear sir ! " he exclaimed.

''But, my dear sir \" I echoed, "I will allow no man
to interrupt tlie flow of my ideas. Give me your opinion
on my quatrain, or I vow we shall have a quarrel of it."

" Certainly you are quite an original," he said.

" Quite," said I ; "and I believe I have my counterpart
before me."

" Well, for a choice," says he, smiling, "and M'hether
for sense or poetry, give me

" ' Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow :
The rest is all but leather and pruuello.' "

" 0, but that's not fair — that's Pope ! It's not origi-
nal. Dudgeon. Understand me," said I, wringing his
breast-button, " the first duty of all poetry is to be mine,
sir — mine. Inspiration now swells in my bosom, because
— to tell you the plain truth, and descend a little in style
— I am devilish relieved at the turn things have taken
So, I daresay, are you yourself, Dudgeon, if you would
only allow it. And a propos, let me ask you a home
question. Between friends, have you ever fired that pis-
tol?"

"Why, yes, sir," he replied. "Twice— at hedgespar-
rows."

" And you would have fired at me, you bloody-minded
man ?" I cried.

" If you go to that, you seemed mighty reckless with
your stick," said Dudgeon.

" Did I indeed ? Well, well, 'tis all past history ;
ancient as King Pharamond — which is another French
word, if you cared to accumulate more evidence," says I.

ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 163

"But liapiDily we are now the best of friends, and have all
our iiiterests in common."

" You go a little too fast, if you'll excuse me, Mr. :

I do not know your name, that I am aware," said Dud-
geon.

" :N'o, to be sure ! " said I. " Never heard of it ! "

'' A word of explanation " he began.

'' No, Dudgeon ! " I interrupted. - Be practical ; I know
what you want, and the name of it is supper. Rie?i ne
creuse comme Vemotion. I am lumgry myself, and yet I am
more accustomed to warlike palpitations than you, who
are but a hunter of hedgesparrows. Let me look at your
face critically : your bill of fare is three slices of cold rare
roast beef, a Welsh rarebit, a pot of stout, and a glasp or
two of sound tawny port, old in bottle— the right milk of
Englishmen." Melhought there seemed a brightening in
his eye and a melting about his mouth at this enum^'era-
tion.

"The night is young," I continued; ''not much past
eleven, for a wager. Where can we lind a good inn ? And
remark that I say good, for the port must be up to the oc-
casion— not a headache in a pipe of it."

" Eeally, sir," he said, smiling a little, '' you have a way
of carrying things "

" Will nothing make you stick to the subject ? " T cried ;
'' you have the most irrelevant mind ! How do you expect
to rise in your profession ? The inn ? "

"Well, I will say you are a facetious gentleman !" said
he. "You must have your way, I see. We are not three
miles from Bedford by this very road."

" Done ! " cried I. " Bedford be it ! "

T tucked his arm under mine, possessed myself of the
valise, and walked him uif unresisting. Presently we came
to an open piece of count'.-y lying a thought down hill.

1G4

ST. IVES

The road was smooth and free of ice, the moonshine thin
and briglit over the meadows and the leafless trees. I was
now lionestly done with tlie purgatory of the covered cart ;
I was close to my great-uncle's ; I had no more fear of Mr
i:>udgeon; which were all grounds enough for jollity. And
I was aware, besides, of us two as of a pair of tiny and
solitary dolls under the vast frosty cupola of the midnight •
the rooms decked, the moon burnished, tlie least of the
stars lighted, the floor swept and waxed, and nothing want-
ing but for the band to strike up and tlie dancing to be-
gni. In the exhilaration of my heart I took the music on
myself —

» Merrily danced the Quaker's wife,
And merrily danced the Quaker."

I broke into that animated and appropriate air, clapped mv
arm about Dudgeon's waist, and away down the hill at a
dancing step ! He hung back a little at the start, but the
impulse of the tune, the night, and my example, were not
to be resisted. A man made of putty must have danced,
and even Dudgeon showed himself to be a human boincr
Higher and higher were the capers that wo cut ; the mooll
repeated in shadow our antic footsteps and gestures • and
It came over my mind of a sudden-really like balm-what
appearance of man I was dancing with, what a long bilious
countenance he had shown under his shaven pate, and what
a world of trouble the rascal had given me in the imme-
diate past.

Presently we began to see the lights of Bedford. My
Puritanic companion stopped and disengaged himself.

" This is a trifle infra dig., sir, is it not ? " said he.' " A
party might suppose we had been drinking."

'* And so ynn sliall be, Dudgeon," said I. " You shall
not only be drinking, you old hypocrite, but you shall be

ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 165

drunk— dead drunk, sir— and the boots shall put you to
bed ! We'll warn him when we go in. Never neglect a pre-
caution ; never put off till to-morrow what you can do
to-day ! "

But ho had no more frivolity to complain of. We
finished our stage and came to the inn-door with decorum
to find the house still alight and in a bustle with many late
arrivals ; to give our orders with a prompt severity which
ensured obedience, and to be served soon after at a ^ide
table, close to the fire and in a blaze of candle-light, with
such a meal as I had been dreaming of for days past. For
days, you are to remember, I had been skulking in the
covered cart, a prey to cold, hunger, and an accumulation
of discomforts that might have daunted the most brave •
and the wliitc table napery, the bright crystal, the rever-
beration of the fire, the red curtains, the Turkey cari)et,
tlie portraits on the coffee-room wall, the placid faces of
the two or three late guests who were silently prolonging
the pleasures of digestion, and (last, but not by any means
least) a glass of an excellent light dry port, put me in a
humour only to be described as heavenly. The thought of
tlic Colonel, of how he would have enjoyed this snug room
and roaring fire, and of his cold grave in the wood by
Market Bosworth, lingered on my palate, a mari aliqua,
like an after-taste, but was not able— I say it with shame-
entirely to dispel my self-complacency. After all, in this
world every dog hangs by its own tail. I was a free ad-
venturer, who had Just brought to a successful end-or at
least, within view of it— an adventure very difficult Ind
alarming ; and I looked across at Mr. Dudgeon, as the port
rose to his cheeks, and a smile, that was semi-confidential
and a trifle foolish, began to play upon liis io..,t}iery feat
ures not only with composure, 'but with a 'suspicion of
feindness. The rascal had been brave, a quality for which

166

ST. IVES

I would value the devil ; and if l,e had been pertinacious
m^the begm„.„g, ho had ,„,re than ,„ado up L- it befo"e

'• And now Dudgeon, to explain," I began. ' I know

'•Oho!" quoth Dudgeon, ■• I begin to see."

I ■■"" ';f tily glad of it," said I, passing the bottle
because that ,s about all I can tell yo yl, n„,.7 LI

H ;:: d»^^ i'et,Tr""T- ■ ^^^^^'^'^^^^"^

ow to il,gh Holborn, and confront rao with Mr Eomai,,,. •

• rkfti; ,°',"'f.' "",' '"^ '" -'y-^iMatr St-" d o
malse the hol.est disorder in your master's plans If I i„d<^"

you anght (for I fl„d you a shrewd fellow' thi^ w" n tt

at all to your m.nd. You know what a subordinate ^ets Ix^

notTtTl'Th;; 'r\ t"f ""^ """""■■^' °"J «-^S h^
not at all the face that I should care to see in anger • and I

venture to predict surprising results upon you ^ ek,'

salary_,f you are paid by the week, tha is. In short let

do7°a dVs'td" "V"""'"'^ -""-^ take^TL™!
oon, and tis only a beginning-and, by my ouinion „

" And?, t '""""• ^™ '="" "-^ y°" choice' "'
And that IS soon taken," said he. " Go to Amerslnm
to-morrow, or go to the devil if you nrefer /","'""

hands of you and the whole tranrtioT k^ yl^ don(
find me pnttmg my head in between Eomaine and Icl n '

f.S^nh:'s:x=i^;j^:x— -^^

'' That reminds me," said I. « T havp .. „-„„+ ,-.._-• .,
-a you oau satisfy it. Why .erey^uso-f.;^^*;"^

ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 167

with poor Mr. Dubois ? Why did yon transfer your atten-
tions to me ? And generally, what induced you to make
yourself such a nuisance ?"
He blushed deeply.

'' Why, sir," says he, '' there is such a thing as patriot-
ism, I hope."

CHAPTER XVI

THE HOME-COMING OF MR. KOWLEY's VISCOUNT

By eight the next morning Dudgeon and I had made
our parting. By that time we had grown to be extremely
famihar ; and I would very willingly have kept him by
me, and even carried him to Amersham Place. But it
appeared he was due at the public-house whore we had
met, on some aifairs of my great-uncle the Count, who
had an outlying estate in tluit part of the shire. If Dud-
geon had liad his way the night before, I should have been
arrested on my uncle's land and by my uncle's agent, a
culmination of ill-luck. ^ '

nf n ^^"|\f *"^,r°" ^ started, in a hired chaise, by way
o Dunstable. The mere mention of the name Ameisham
Place made every one supple and smiling. It was plainly
a great house, and my uncle lived there in style. The
fame of it rose as we approached, like a chain of moun-

they crawled upon their bellies. I thought the landlady
would have kissed me ; such a flutter of cordiality, such
smiles, such affectionate attentions were called forth, and
the good lady bustled on my service in such a pother of
ringlets and with such a jingling of keys. <' You're prob-
ably expected, sir, at the Place ? I do trust you may
ave better accounts of his lordship's 'elth, sir. We unde-
stood that his lordship, Mosha de Carw^ll, wag m-^ had

Ha,

sir.

we shall all feel his loss, pooi.; dear, noble gen-'
168 ^

MR. Rowley's viscount

169

*■

tleman ; and I'm sure nobody more polite ! They do say,
sir, his wealth is enormous, and before the Revolution
quite a prince in his own country ! But I beg your paiv
don, sir ; 'ow I do run on, to be sure ; and doubtless all
beknown to you already ! For you do resemble the fam-
ily, sir. I should have known you anywheres by the like-
ness to the dear viscount. Ha, poor gentleman, he must
ave a eavy 'eart these days."

In the same place I saw out of the inn windows a man-
servant passing in the livery of my house, which you are
to think I liad never before seen worn, or not that I could
remember. I Imd often enough, indeed, pictured myself
advanced to be a Marshal, a Duke of the Empire, a Grand
Cross of the Legion of Honour, and some other kick-
shaws of the kind, with a perfect rout of flunkeys correctly
dressed in my own colours. But it is one thing to im-
agine and another to see ; it would be one thing to have
these liveries in a house of my own in Paris-it was quite
another to find them flaunting in the iieart of hostile Eng-
lana ; and I fear I should have made a fool of myself if
the man had not been on the other side of the street, and
I at a one-pane window. There was something illusory in
this transplantation of the wealth and honours of a family
n thing by its nature so deeply rooted in the soil; some-
tliing ghostly in this sense of home-coming so far from

From Dunstable I rode away into a crescendo of similar
impressions. There are certainly few things to be com-
pared with these castles, or rather country seats, of the
English nobihty and gentry ; nor anything at all to equal
tiie servility of the population that dwells in their neigh-
bourhood. Though I was but driving in a hired chaise,
^vord of my destination seemed to have gone abroad, and
the women curtseyed and the men louted to me by the

170

ST. IVES

wayside. As I came near, I began to appreciate the roots
of this widespread respect. The look of my uncle's park
wall, even from the outside, had something of a princely
character ; and when I came in view of the house itself, a
Kort of madness of vicarious vain-glory struck me dumb
and kept nie staring. It was about the size of the Tuile-
ries. It faced due north ; and the last rays of the sun, that
was setting like a red-hot shot amidst a tumultuous gath-
ering of snow clouds, were reflected on nhe endless rows of
windows. A portico of Doric columns adorned the front,
and would have done honour to a temple. The servant
who received me at the door was civil to a fault— I had al-
most said, to offence ; and the hall to which he admitted
me through a pair of glass doors was warmed and already
partly lighted by a liberal chimney heaped with the roots
of beeches.

" Vicomte Anne de St. Yves," said I, in answer to the
man's question ; whereupon he bowed before me lower still,
and stepping upon one side introduced me to the truly aw-
ful presence of the major domo. I have seen many digni-
taries in my time, but none who quite equalled this emi-
nent being; who was good enough to answer to the
unassuming name of " Mr." Dawson. Froin him I learned
that my uncle was extremely low, a doctor in close attend-
ance, Mr. Romaine expected at any moment, and tha' my
cousin, the Yicomte de St. Yves, had been sent for the same
morning.

*' It was a sudden seizure, then ? " I asked.

Well, he would scarcely go as far as that. It was a de-
cline, a fading away, sir ; but he was certainly took bad the
day before, had sent for Mr. Romaine, and the major domo
had taken it on himself a little later to send word to the
Viscount. "It seemed to me. mvlord." said h.ft " as if this
was a time when all the fambly should be called together."

MR. ROWLEY' b TSCOUNT

171

I approved him with my lips, but not in my heart.
Dawson was plainly in the interests of my cousin.

" And when can I expect to see my great-uncle, tiie
Count ? " said I.

In tiie evening, I was told ; in the meantime he would
show me to my room, which had been long prepared for
me, and I should be expected to dine in about an hour witli
the doctor, if my lordship had no objections.
My lordship had not the faintest.
"At the same time," I said, "I have had an accident •
I have unhappily lost my baggage, and am here in what I
stand in. I don't know if tlie doctor be a formalist, but it
IS quite impossible I should ai>pear at table as I ought."

He begged me to be under no anxiety. " We have been
long expecting you," said he. " All is ready."

Such I found to be the trutli. A great room had been
prepared for me ; through the mullioned windows the last
flicker of the winter sunset interchanged with the reverber-
ation of a royal fire ; the bed was open, a suit of evening
clothes was airing before the blaze, and from the far corner
a boy came forward with deprecatory smiles. The dream
in which I had been moving seemed to have reached its
pitch. I might have quitted this house and room only the
night before ; it was my own place that I had come to •
and for the first time in my life I understood the force of
the words home and welcome.

"This will be all as you would want, sir ?" said Mr
Dawson. - This 'ere boy, Rowley, we place entirely at
your disposition. 'E's not exactly a trained vallet, but
Mossho Fowl, the Viscount's gentleman, 'ave give him the
benefick of a few lessons, and it is 'oped that he may give
sitisfection. Hanythink that you may require, if vou will
be so good as to mention the same to Eowley, I will make
it my business myself, sii, to see you satisfied."

172

8T. IVE3

So saying, the eminent and already detested Mr. Dawson

took his departure, and I was left alone with Rowley. A

man who may be said to have wakened to consciousness in

the prisoii of the Abbiujc, among those ever graceful and

ever tragic figures of the bravo and fair, awaiting tlie hour

of the gnillotine and denuded of every comfort, I had no\ or

known the luxuries or the amenities of nr. rank in life.

To be attended on by servants I had only been accustomed

to in inns. My toilet had long been military, to a moment,

at the note of a bugle, too often at a ditch-side. And it

need not be wondered at if L looked on niy new valet with

a certain difhdence. But I remembered that if lie was my

iirst experience of a valet, I was his first trial of a master.

Chn red by which consideration, I demanded my bath in a

8tv]c. of good assurance. There was a bath-rooni contig-

nmA; in an incredibly short space of time the hot water

wn« roady ; and soon after, arrayed in a shawl dressing-

gowii, and in a luxury of contentment and comfort, I was

reclined in an easy-chair before the mirror, while Rowlev,

with a mixture of pride and anxiety which 1 could well

understand, laid out his razors.

"Hey, Rowley.?" I asked, not quite resigned to go
under fire with such an inexperienced commander. " It's
all right, is it ? You feel pretty sure of your weapons ? "
" Yes, my lord," he replied. " It's all right, I assure
your lordship."

" I beg your pardon, Mr. Rowley, but for the sake of
shortness, Avould you mind not belording me in private ? "
said I. " It will do very well if you call me Mr. Anne. It
is the way of my country, as I daresay you know."
Mr. Rowley looked blank.

" But you're just as much a Viscount as Mr. Fowl's, are
you nut ? " he said.

" As Mr. Fowl's Viscount ? " said I, laughing. " 0,

MU. ROWLEY'S VISCOUNT 173

keep yonr mind easy, Mr. Kowley's is every bit as good.
Only, you see, as I am of the younger line, I bear my
Cl.ristuin name along with the title. Alain is the Viscount-
i am the \ iscount Anne. A. , giving me the name of
Mr. Anne, I assure you you v, oe quite regular,"

" Yes, Mr. Anne,'' said the docile youth. - But about
the shaving, sir, you need be under no alarm. Mr. Fowl
says 1 ave excellent dispositions."

'' Mr. Poul V " said I. - That doesn't seem to me very
like a I rench name."

"No, sir, indeed, my lord," said he, with a burst of
conhdence. - No. indeed, Mr. Anne, and it do not surely.
1 sJiould say now, it was more like Mr. Pole."
"And Mr. Powl is the Viscount's man ?"
" Yes. Mr. Anne," said he. - He 'ave a hard billet, he
clo. Ihe \ iscount is a very particular gentleman. I don't
think as you'll be, Mr. Anne?" he added, with a con-
ndential smile in the mirror.

He was about sixteen, Avell set up, with a pleasant,
merry, freckled face, and a pair of dancing eyes. There
was an air at once deprecatory and insinuating about the
rascal that I thought I recog.iised. There came to me
trom my own boyhood memories of certain passionate ad-
mirations long passed away, and the objects of them long
ago discredited or dead. I remembered how anxious I had
1 ^en to serve those fleeting heroes, how readily I told my-
self I would have died for them, how much greater and
handsomer than life they had appeared. And looking in
the mirror, it seemed to me that I read the face of Row-
ley, like an echo or a ghost, by the light of my own youth
1 tave always contended (somewhat against the opinion of
my friends) that T am first of .,11 an economist ; and the
last thing tliut I would care to throw away is that very val-
uable piece of property—a boy's hero-worship.

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174

ST. IVES

" Why," said I, " you shave like an angel, Mr. Row-
ley ! "

" Thank you, my lord," said he. " Mr. Powl had no
fear of me. You may be sure, sir, I should never 'ave had
this berth if I 'adn't 'ave been up to Dick. We been ex-
pecting of you this moutli back. My eye ! I never see such
preparations. Every day the fires has been kep' up, the
bed made, and all ! As soon as it was known you were
coming, sir, I got the appointment ; and I've been up and
clown since then like a Jack-in-the-box. A wheel couldn't
sound in the avenue but what I was at the window ! I've
had a many disappointments ; but to-night, as soon as you
stepped out of the shay, I knew it was my — it was yon.
0, you had been expected ! AVhy, when I go down to
supper, I'll be the 'ero of the servants' 'all : the 'ole of the
staff is that curious ! "

*' Well," said I, " I hope you may be able to give a fair
account of me — sober, steady, industrious, good-tempered,
and with a first-rate character from my last place ? "

He laughed an embarrassed laugh. " Your hair curls
beautiful," he said, by way of changing the subject.
" The Viscount's the boy for curls, though ; and the rich-
ness of it is, Mr. Powl teils me his don't curl no more than
that much twine — by nature. Gettin' old, the Viscount
is. He 'ave gone the pace, 'aven't "e, sir ? "

" The fact is," said I, " that I know very little about
him. Our family has been much divided, and I have been
a soldier from a child."

**A soldier, Mr. Anne, sir?" cried Rowley, with a
sudden feverish animation. " Was you ever wounded ?"

It is contrary to my principles to discourage admiration
for myself ; and, slipping back the shoulder of the dres ;•
ing-gown, I silently exliibited the scar which I had re-
ceived in Edinburgh Castle. He looked at it with awe.

MR. Rowley's viscount

175

" Ah, well !" he continued, "there's where the differ-
ence comes in ! It's in the training. The other Viscount
have been horse-racing, and dicing, and carrying on all his
life. All right enough, no doubt ; but what I do say is,
that it don't lead to nothink. Whereas "•

" Whereas Mr. Rowley's ? " I put in.

" My Viscount ? " said he. " Well, sir, I did say it ;
and now that I've seen you, I say it again !"

I could not refrain from smiling at this outburst, and
the rascal cauglit me in the mirror and smiled to me again.

" I'd say it again, Mr. Hanne," he said. "I know which
side my bread's buttered. I know when a gen'Ieman's a
gen'loman. Mr. Fowl can go to Putney with his one ! Beg
your pardon, Mr. Anne, for being so familiar," said he,
blushing suddenly scarlet. " I was especially warned
against it by Mr. Fowl."

" Discipline before all," said I. " Follow your front-
rank man."

With that, we began to turn our attention to the clothes.
I was amazed to find them fit so well : not a la diable, in
the haphazard manner of a soldier's uniform or a ready-
made suit ; but with nicety, as a trained artist might re-
joice to make them for a favourite subject.

"'Tis extraordinary," cried I : " these thing's lit me per-
fectly."

" Indeed, Mr. Anne, you two be very much of a shape,"
said Rowley.

"Who? What two ?" said I.

" The Viscount," he said.

" Damnation ! Have I the man's clothes on me, too ? "
cried I.

But Rowley hastened to reassure me. On the first word
of my coming, the Count had put the matter of my ward-
robe in the hands of his own and my cousin's tailors ; and

176

ST. IVES

on the rumour of our resemblance, my clothes had been
made to Alain's measure.

" But they were all made for you express, Mr. Anne.
You may be certain the Count would never do nothing by»
'alf : fires kep' burning ; the finest of clothes ordered, Fm
sure, and a body-servant being trained a-purpose."

" Well," said I, " it's a good fire, and a good set-out of
clothes ; and what a valet, Mr. Rowley ! And there's one
thing to be said for my cousin — I mean for Mr. Fowl's
Viscount — he has a very fair figure."

" 0, don't you be took in, Mr. Anne," quoth the faith-
less Rowley : ** he has to be hyked into a pair of stays to
get them things on ! "

" Come, come, Mr. Rowley," said I, " this is telling
tales out of school ! Do not you be deceived. The greatest
men of antiquity, including C^sar and Hannibal and Fope
Joan, may have been very glad, at my time of life or Alains',
to follow his example. 'Tis a misfortune common to all ;
and really," said I, bowing to myself before t' irror like
one who should dance the minuet, '*when t suit is so
successful as this, who would do anything but applaud ? "
My toilet concluded, I marched on to fresh surprises.
My chamber, my new valet and my new clothes had been
beyond hope : the dinner, the soup, the whole bill of faro
was a revelation of the powers there are in man. I had not
supposed it lay in the genius of any cook to create, out of
common beef and mutton, things so different and dainty.
The wine was of a piece, the doctor a most agreeable com-
panion ; nor could I help reflecting on the prospect that
all this wealth, comfort and handsome profusion might
still very possibly become mine. Here were a change in-
deed, from the common soldier and the camp kettle, the
prisoner and his prison rations, the fugitive and the hojv
rors of the covered cart !

CHAPTER XVII

THE DESPATCH-BOX

The doctor had scarce finislied his meal before he has-
tened with an apology to attend upon his patient; and
almost immediately after, I was myself summoned and
usliered up the great staircase and along interminable cor-
ridors to the bedside of my grp;it-uncle the Count. You
are to think that up to the present moment I had not set
eyes on this formidable personage, only on the evidences
of his wealth and kindness. You are to think besides
that I had heard him miscalled and abused from my earli-
est childhood up. The first of the emigres could never
expect a good word in the society in which my father
moved. Even yet the reports I received were of a doubt-
ful nature ; even Romaine had drawn of him no very
amiable portrait ; and as I was ushered into the room, it
was a critical eye that I cast on my great-uncle. He lay
propped on pillows in a little cot no greater tlian a camp-
bed, not visibly breathing. He was about eighty years of
age, and looked it ; not that his face was much lined, but
all the blood and colour seemed to have faded from his
body, and even his eyes, wliicli last he kept usually closed
as though the light distressed him. There was an un-
speakable degree of slyness in his expression, which kept
me ill at ease ; he seemed to lie there with his arms folded,
like a spider waiting for prey. His speech was very de-
liberate and courteous, but scarce louder than a sigh,
W 177

178

ST. IVES

" I bid you welcome, Monsieur le Vicomte Anne," said
he, looking at mo hard with his pale eyes, but not moving
on his pillows. " I have sent for you, and I thank you
for the obliging exi)edition you have shown. It is my
misfortune that I cannot rise to receive you. I trust you
have been reasonably well entertained ? "

" Monsieur mon ancle " I said, bowing very low, ''I am
come at th summons of the head of my family."

" It is well," he said. " Be seated. I should be glad
to hear some news— if that can be called news that is al-
ready twenty years old— of how I liave the pleasure to see
you here."

By the coldness of his address, not more than by the
nature of the times that he bade me recall, I was plunged
in melancholy. I felt myself surrounded as with deserts of
friend lessness, and the delight of my welcome was turned
to ashes in my mouth.

** That is soon told, monseiffneur," said I. " I under-
stand that I need tell you nothing of the end of my un-
happy parents ? It is only the story of the lost dog."

" You are right. I am sufficiently informed of that de-
plorable affair; it is painful to me. My nephew, your
father, was a man who would not be advised," said he.
" Tell me, if you please, simply of yourself."

" I am afraid I must run the risk of harrowing your
sensibility in the beginning," said I, with a bitter smile,
"because my story begins at the foot of the guillotine.
When the list came out that night, and her name was
there, I was already old enough, not in years but in sad
experience, to understand the extent of my misfortune.

She " I paused. " Enough that she arranged with a

friend, Madame de Chasserades, that she should take
charge of me, and by the favour of our jailors I was suf-
fered to remain iu the shelter of the Abbaye. That was

THE DESPATOII-IU)X

179

my only refuge ; tliere was no corner of France tlnit I
could rest the sole of my foot upon except tlie prison.
Monsieur le Comte, you are as well aware as I can be what
kind of a life that was, and how swiftly death smote in
that society. I did not wait long before the name of
Madame de ChasseradOs succeeded to that of my mother
on the list. She passed me on to Madame de Noytot ; she,
in her turn, to Mademoiselle de Braye ; and there were
others. I was the one thing permanent; they were all
transient as clouds ; a day or two of their care, and then
came the last farewell and— somewhere far off in that roar-
ing Paris that surrounded us— the bloody scene. I was
the cherished one, the last comfort, of these dying women.
1 have been in pitched fights, my loi-d, and I never knew
such courage. It was all done smiling, in the tone of good
society ; heUe maman was the name I was taught to give
to each ; and for a day or two the new 'pretty mamma'
would make much of me, show me off, teach me the min-
uet, and to say my prayers ; and then, with a tender em-
brace, would go the way of her predecessors, smiling.
There were some that wept too. There was a childhood !
All the time Monsienr de Culemberg kept his eye on me,
and would have had me out of the Abbaye and in his own
protection, but my ' pretty mammas ' one after another
resisted the idea. Where could I be safer ? they argued ;
and what was to become of them without the darling of
the prison ? Well, it was soon shown how safe I was !
The dreadful day of the massacre came ; the prison was
overrun ; none paid attention to me, not even the last of
my ' pretty mammas,' for she had met another fate. I was
wandering distracted, when I was found by some one in
the interests of Monsieur de Culemberg. I understand he
was sent on purpose ; I believe, in order to reach the in-
terior of the prison, he had set his hand to nameless bar-

3 '■■

i I'

180

ST. IVES

Imritios : snch was tlie price pjiid for my worthless, wliini-
pering little life ! He gave me his hand ; it was wet, and

mine was reddened

J,.V,V. ...V. ...» ...vw». ,

he led me nnrcsisting.

I remember

but the one circumstance of my ilight — it was my last view
of my last pretty mamma. Shall 1 describe it to you ?" 1
asked the Count, with a sudden fierceness.

"Avoid unpleasant details," observed my great-uncle,
gently.

At these words a sudden peace fell upon me. I had been
angry with tlie man before ; I had not sought to spare him ;
and now, in a moment, I saw that there was nothing to
spare. Whether from natural heartlessness or extreme old
age, the soul was not at home ; and my benefactor, who
had kept the fire lit in my room for a month past — my
only relative except Alain, whom I knew already to be a
hired spy — had trodden out the last sparks of hope and
interest.

" Certainly," said I ; "and, indeed, the day for them is
nearly over. I was taken to Monsieur de Culemberg's, —
I presume, sir, that you know the Abbe de Culemberg?"

He indicated assent without openuig his eyes.

" He was a very brave and a very learned man "

"And a very holy one," said my uncle civilly.

"And a very holy one, as you observe," I continued.
" He did an infinity of good, and through all the Terror
kept himself from the guillotine. He brought me up, and
gave me such education as I have. It was in his house in
the country at Dammarie, near Melun, that I made the
acquaintance of your agent, Mr. Vicary, who lay there
in hiding, only to fall a victim at the last to a gang of
chauffeurs."

" This poor Mr. Vicary ! " observed my uncle. " He
had been many times in my interests to France, and this
was his first failure. Qicel charmunt homme, n'est-cejjas?"

THE DESPATOH-BOX

181

" Infinitely so," said I. " But I would not willingly
detain you any farther with a story, the details of which it
must naturally bo more or less unpleasant for you to hear.
Suffice it that, by M. do Culcmberg's advice, I said fare-
well at eighteen to that kind preceptor and his books, and
entered the service of France ; and have since then carried
arms in such a manner as not to disgrace my family."

" You narrate well; voiis avcz la voix cliandc," said my
uncle, turning on his pillows as if to study me. «* I have
a very good account of you by Monsieur do Mauseant,
whom you helped in Spain. And you had some education
from the Abbe de Culemberg, a nuiu of a good house ?
Yes, you will do very well. Yon luive a good manner and
a handsome person, which hurts nothing. We are all
handsome in the family ; even I myself, I have had my
successes, the memories of which still charm me. It is my
intention, my nephew, to make of you my heir. I am not
very well content with my other nephew, Monsieur le
Vicomte : he has not been respectful, which is the flattery
due to age. And there are other matters."

I was half tempted to throw back in his face ilat in-
heritance so coldly offered. At the same time I had to
consider. that he was an old man, and, after all, my rela-
tion ; and that I was a poor one, in considerable straits,
with a hope at heart which that inheritance might yet en-
able me to realise. Nor could I forget that, however icy
his manners, he had behaved to me from the first with the
extreme of liberality and— I was about to write, kindness,
but the word, in that connection, would not come. ^ I
really owed the man some measure of gratitude, which it
would be an ill manner to repay if I were to insult him on
his deathbed,

" Your will, monsieur, must ever be my rule," said I
bowing. '

182

ST. IVES

**Yon have wit, monsieur mon neven" sqid he, "the
best wit — the wit of silence. Many iniglit have deafened
me with their gratitude. Gratitude !" he repeated, with
a peculiar intonation, and lay and smiled to himself. " But
to approach what is more important. As a prisoner of war,
will it be possible for you to bo served lieir to English es-
tates ? I have no idea : long as I have dwelt in England, I
have never studied what they call their laws. On the other
hand, how if Romainc should come too late ? I have two
pieces of business to be transacted — to die, and to make my
will ; and, however desirous I may be to serve you, I can-
not postpone the first in favour of the second beyond a
very *pw hours."

'*Weil, sir, I must then contrive to be doing as I did
before," said I.

" Not so," said the Count. " I have an alternative. I
have just drawn my balance at my banker's, a considerable
sum, and I am now to place it in your hands. It will bo

so much for you and so much less " he paused, and

smiled Avith an air of malignity that surprised me. ** But
it is necessary it should be done before witnesses. Mon-
sieur le Vicomte is of a particular disposition, and an
unwitnessed donation may very easily be twisted into a
theft."

He touched a bell, which was answered by a man having
the appearance of a confidential valet. To him he gave a

key.

" Bring me the despatch-box that came yesterday. La
Ferri^re," said he. " You will at the same time present
my compliments to Dr. Hunter and M. TAbbe, and re-
quest them to step for a few moments to my room."

The despatch-box proved to be rather a bulky piece of
baggage, covered with Russia leather. Before the doctor
and an excellent old smiling priest it was passed over into

THE DESPATCir-KOX

183

•my hands with a very clear statement of the disposer's
wishes ; unmediately after which, though the witnesses re-
mained behind to draw up and sign a joint note of the
transaction. Monsieur de Keroual dismissed me to my own
room. La Ferrit^re following with the invaluable box

At my chamber door I took it from him with thanks,
and entered alone. Everything had been already disposed
for the night, the curtains drawn and the fire trimmed-
and Rowley was still busy with my bedclothes. He turned
round as I entered with a look of welcome that did mv
heart good. Indeed, I had never a much greater need of
human sympathy, however trivial, than at that moment
when I held a fortune in my arms. In my uncle's room I
had breathed the very atmosphere of disenchantment. He
liad gorged my pockets ; he had starved every dignified or
affectionate sentiment of a man. I had received so chill-
mg an impi-ession of age and experience that the mere
look of youth drew me to confide in Rowley : he was only
a boy, his heart must beat yet, he must still retain some
innocence and natural feelings, he could blurt out follies
with his mouth, he was not a machine to utter perfect

fCn f t " ''"^ '^■^'' ^ ^^^ ^^^^"^"^g t- outgrow
the painful impressions of my interview; my spirits were
beginning to revive ; and at the jolly, empty looks of Mr.
Rowley, as he ran forward to relieve me of the box St
Ives became himself again. '

" Now. Rowley, don't be in a hurry," said I. '' This is
a momentous juncture. Man and boy, yon have been in
my service about three hours. You must already have ob-
served that I am a gentleman of a somewhat morose dis-
position, and there is nothing that I more dislike than the
smallest appearance of familiarity. Mr. Pole or Mr Fowl
probably in the spirit of prophecy, warned you against thi;

184

ST. IVES

" Yes, Mr. Anne," said Rowley blankly.

"Now there has just arisen one of those rare cases, in
which I am willing to depart from my principles. My
uncle has given me a box— what you would call a Christ-
mas box. I don't know what's in it, and no more do you :
perhaps I am an April fool, or perhaps I am already enor-
mously wealthy ; there might be five hundred pounds in
this apparently harmless receptacle ! "

** Lord, Mr. Annt ! " cried Rowley.

" Now, Rowley, hold up your right hand and repeat the
words of the oath after me," said I, laying the despatch-
box on the table. " Strike me blue if I ever disclose to
Mr. Fowl, or Mr. Fowl's Viscount, or anything that is Mr.
Fowl's, not to mention Mr. Dawson and the doctor, the
treasures of the following despatch-box ; and strike me sky-
blue scarlet if I do not continually maintain, uphold, love,
honour and obey, serve, and follow to the f ^ur corners of
the earth and the waters that are under the earth, the
hereinafter before mentioned (only that I find I have neg-
lected to mention him) Viscount Anne de Kcroual de
St. -Yves, commonly known as Mr. Rowley's Viscount. So

be it. Amen."
He took the oath with the same exaggerated seriousness

as I gave it to him.

" Now," said I. " Here is the key for you ; I will hold
the lid with both hands in the meanwhile." He turned
the key. " Bring up all the candles in the room, and
range them alongside. What is it to be ? A live gorgon,
a Jack-in-the-box, or a spring that fires a pistol ? On your
knees, sir, before the prodigy ! "

So saying, I turned the despatch-box upside down upon
the table. At sight of the heap of bank paper and gold
• that lay in front of us, between the candles, or rolled upon
the floor alongside, I stood astonished.

•II

thp: despatch-box

18fi

■3

** 0 Lord ! " cried Mr. Rowley ; " 0 Lordy, Lordy, Lord ! "
and he scrambled after the fallen guineas. ''O my, Mr.
Anne ! what u sight o' money ! Why, it's like a bl'eased
story-book. It's like the Forty Thieves."

"Now, Rowley, let's be cool, let's be businesslike," said
I. " Riches are deceitful, particularly when you haven't
counted them ; and the first thing we have to do is to ar-
rive at the amount of my— let me say, modest competency.
If I'm not mistaken, I have enough here to keej) you in
gold buttons all the rest of your life. You collect the gold,
and I'll take the i)aper."

Accordingly, down we sat together on the hearthrug,
and for some time there was no sound but the creasing of
bills and the jingling of guineas, broken occasionsdly by the
exulting exclamations of Rowley. The arithmetical oper-
ation on which we were emburked took long, and it might
have been tedious to others ; not to me nor to my helper.
" Ten thousand pounds !" I ann.. unced at last.
" Ten thousand ! " echoed Mr. Rowley.
And we gazed upon each other.

The greatness of this fortune took my breaib away.
With that sum in my hands, I need fear no enemies. Peo-
ple are. arrested, in nine cases out of ten, not because the
police are astute, but because they themselves run short
of money ; and I had here before me in the despatch-box a
succession of devices and disguises that insured my liberty.
Not only so ; but, as I felt with a sudden and overpower-
ing thrill, with ten thousand pounds in my hands I was
become an eligible suitor. What advances I had made in
the past, as a private soldier in a military prison, or a fugi-
tive by the wayside, could only be qualified or, indeed, ex-
cused as acts of desperation. And now, I might come in by
the front door ; I migiit approach the dragon with a lawyer
at my elbow, and rich settlements to offer. The poor French

186

ST. IVES

prisoner, Champdivers, might be in a perpetual danger of
arrest ; but the rich travelling Englishman, St. Ives, in his
post-chaise, with his despatch-box by his side, could smile
at fate and laugh at locksmiths. I -repeated the proverb,
exulting. Love laughs at locksmiths! In a moment, by
the mere coming of this money, my love had become pos-
sible— it had come near, it was under my hand— and it may
be by one of the curiosities of human nature, but it burned
that instant brighter.

" Rowley," said I, "your Viscount is a made man."

" Why, we both are, sir," said Rowley.

"Yes, both," said I ; "and you shall dance at the wed-
ding ; " and I flung at his head a bundle of bank notes,
and had just followed it up with a handful of guineas^
when the door opened, and Mr. Romaine appeared upoii
the threshold.

CHAPTER XVIII

MR. ROMAIKE rvLLS ME NAMES

visitor wolcorao. He ,li<l „„, 1; ""f"°" '» "'»'"' >"y

gave it „,„ „ o„H,r» ' i :: ;: Xi^irf ' '■" ""

marked i„ a ,t,.o„g decree ITl™ °°^'' "" "<'■ ^"^

"So, sir, I find yfuTe '. ™7™ »'• '"verity.

-=. .ooked at .„ w,;:, — :::i„r:t:;:::'3 "-^ «^-

have prepared for nf T ''"'^ ^^-fficnlties that voii

begin' rwi,;:is\rben "^f'^-^-^^ri:^

all, this paragraph "An^^^^^^ ^ f." ''^""'^ '''^' ^'^' ^^
paper. ^ ^ ^ ^- ^"^ ^^ handed over to me a news-

The paragraph in question was brief Tf «.
recapture of one of the nv^J It announced the

Edinburgh Caste glrelfisrirrT^"?^ '^'^'^ f--
he had entered int^ t'e p i^ " ^ ^T ' "'r''"^ ^'^^^
mnrder in the CastJe J^ri f ^'^ '^"^^"^ revolting

L-astle, and denounced the murderer :_

"It is a oonimon soldipr callf.,1 oi.o

;■ n^wved m the common Hte of 1,1,

188

ST. IVES

comra.los Tnspuoof ti.e activity along all tl.o Forth and th. East
Coast, notlnng has yet hoen soon of the sloop which those dcspcTa.loos
seized at (iranKon.outh, and it is now aliyost certain that thoy have
founda watery grave." i;^ <m»e

At tlie roaaing of this paragniph my heart turned over'
In a moment 1 saw my castle in the air ruined; myself
changed from a mere military fugitive into a hunted mur-
derer, fleeing from the galhnvs ; my lore, which had a
moment suice appeared so near to me, l.lotted from the
field of possihility. Despair, which was n.y first senti-
ment, did not, however, endure for more tha.i a moment
i saw that my comi)anions had iiuleed succeeded in their
unlikely design ; and that I was supposed to have accom-
panied and perished along with them hy shipwreck— i
most probable ending to their enterprise. If they thought
me at -he bottom of the North Sea, I need not fear much
vigilance on the streets of Edinburgh. Champdivers was
wanted : what was to connect him with St. Ives ? Major
Chcvenix would recognise me if he met me ; that was be-
yond bargaining: he had seen me so often, his interest
had been kindled to so high a point, that I could hope to
deceive h.m by no stratagem of disguise. Well, even so •
he would have.n competition of testimony before him : hj
knew Clausel, he knew me, and I was sure he would de-
cide for honour. At the same time, the image of Flora
shot np 111 my mind's eye with such a radiancy as fairly
overwhelmed all other considerations ; the blood sprang to
every comer of my body, and I vowed I would see and win
ner, if it cost my neck.

" Very annoying, no doubt/^ said I, as I returned the
paper to Mr. Romaine.

" Is annoying your word for it ? " said he.
" Exasperating, if you like/' I admitted.
"And true? "he inquired.

MR. tiOMAtm CALLS ME NAMES Jsg

"Well, fcrno i,, ^ squso " s-ii.! t f^ i> ^
l^etter unnwer that question ^ !' h'^ ^'''^''''^'' ^ ''•■^*'
of the facts ?" ^ '^ i*"*^'"^' >'«" '■'' Possessio,.

''1 think so, indeed," said he.

-■"--y face i t„n,"lt.:;rr;;.,:;"""' '"'^^"■^' '-

clone! """'""' '""^ """^ ^- :"'-M I.e, wta Ihad
'• r.!',r'r °°"°I"'''' ""■' """vie'v," said I.

tlmt 1 foel „,^,Sf woil I " U, .V ,T ""' "'"J«'«'""a
your acoo„„t-ll,„t you I „ M,'::' "'. '•-1""-Wlit, „„

Tl.oro a,.o «erif„., l.orsl^'t^^r'Mri:, ,;?' ''«-:';oy •'

VCTcly. "A capital char..e and t,,., If ', " '""' *<'-

tor and will, si„i.„l.,r?, f °' " ''"''y ''"""I oliarac-

«.o n,a„ cz: r xtr t'°'"'''' "-"—or

■-tuatod by sentiments „,,:'f.:/Hr "1"'"" "' ''> '^
«>vear bla.k white- all the n *^ . ^' ""'' l"'"!""-"! to
reH.aps drowned a el I T '"",""''■'"'>' '"^""'"•«<' ""d

total for yonr lawyer to con ler ' d "" " ''■''""^

soned by the incurable folly rdievi 'If ^ "" ""■""' '■='■
sition." ' " ''""'y "f your own dispo-

'■ I beg your pardon ! " said I.

" 0, my expressions have hem m1„„4 i . -

--.oatbei.eartbrug;^^g,ir:x'Li":i;r:

190

ST. IVES

servant, wore yon not, and tlie floor all scattered with gold
and bank ps:per ? There was a tablean for yon ! It was I
who came, and you were lucky in that. It might have
been any one — your cousin as well as another."

"You have me there, sir," I admitted. "I had neg-
lected all precautions, and you do right to be angry.
Apropos, Mr. Komaine, how did you come yourself, and
how long have you been in the house ?" I added, surprised,
on the retrospect, not to have heard him arrive.

" I drove up in a chaise and pair," he returned. " Any
one might have heard me. But you were not listening, I
suppose ? being so extremely at your ease in the very
house of your enemy, and under a capital charge ! And
I have been long enough here to do your business for you.
Ah, yes, I did it, God forgive me !— did it before I so
much as asked yon the explanation of the paragraph. For
some time back the will has been prepared ; now it is
signed ; and your uncle has heard nothing of your recent
piece of activity. Why ? Well, I had no fancy to bother
him on his death-bed : you might be innocent ; and at
bottom I preferred the murderer to the spy."

No doubt of it but the man played a friendly part ; no
doubt also that, in his ill-temper and anxiety, he expressed
himself unpalatably.

" You will perhaps find me over-delicate," said I.
"There is a word you employed "

" I employ the words of my brief, sir," he cried, strik-
ing with his hand on the newspaper. " It is there in six
letters. And do not be so certain — you have not stood
your trial yet. It is an ugly affair, a fishy business. It
is highly disagreeable. I would give my hand off— I mean
I would give a hundred pound down, to have nothing to
do with it. And, situated as we are, we must at once t^ke
action. There is here no choice. You must first of all

MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 191

'_' There may be two words to that," said I.

place yourself, all that is to mJ,Z o \TZ ""Z' '°
may come when we shall be able to do b tter ^^it t .
be now : now it would be the gibbet '• ''"™'

est intention of leaving tl . , ' T ""' "'' ^''«'"-
self extremely. I Tave a^ood a d '■'' """.' P'^"^" "'^-

should not be abW 0 lie n f,''™"''^ »• St. Ives

While the antht;:,:; ^ir^z.'j'^t^^^fi;

^^Z^'"-' '- ' - -eLorbXet

"Tht'is'tl MnT' Sre""t''; "'°"^' ''°'""--
TT„ 1 "®^® ''^ '^^le tongne of the buoVlp

" tott:?'"". A^f ?7^'™-" He ,it „p histir:; ■

exclaimed ' " " "«<"•' ^'"'' >" « '"""'elf ! " he

atihiT/^ra^rtrhoir'trr^"""''''™-^^

the curtains, we heh d the amos 1 ' '"« °'" ''^'^^™
ascent. ^^ s''™niing on the smooth

"4y,"saidEomaine, wiping the window-pane that he

193

ST. IVES

might 800 more clonrly. " Ay, that is ho, by the driving !
So ho 8(|uan(ier8 inonoy along the king's highway, tiio
triple idiot ! gorging every man ho moots with gold for
the pleasure of arriving — whore ? Ah, yes, where but a
debtor's jail, if not a criminal prison ! "

** Is ho that kind of a man ? " I asked, staring on these
lamps as though I could deci])lior in them the secret of my
cousin's character.

" You will find him a dangerous kind," answered the
lawyer. " For you, those are the lights on a loo shore ! I
find 1 fall in a nniso when I consider of him ; what a for-
midable being ho oiu'o was, and what a personable ! and
how near he draws to the monuMit that must break him
utterly ! We none of us like him here ; we hate him,
rather ; and yet I have a sense — I don't think at my time
of life it can be pity — but a reluctance rather, to break
anything so big and figurative, as though ho were a big
porcelain pot or a big picture of high price. Ay, there is
what I was waiting for ! " he cried, as the lights of a sec-
oiul chaise swam in sight. " It is he beyond a doubt. 'J'he
first was the signature aiui the next the flourish. Two
chaises, the second following with the baggage, which is
always copious aiul ])onmn"ous, and one of his valets : ho
cannot go a stop without a valet."

"I hoar you repeat the word big," said I. **Bnt it
cannot be that ho is anything out of the way in stature."

'• No," said the attorney, " About your lieight, as I
guessed for the tailors, and I see nothing wrong with the
result. But, somehow, he commands an atmosphere ; ho
has a spacious manner ; and he has kept up, all through
life, such a volume of racket about his personality, with
his chaises and his racers and his dicings, and I know not
what — that somehow he imposes ! It seems, when the
farce is done, and he locked in the Fleet prison — and no-

Mli. KOMAINK CALLS MK NAMES

103

110

]

body loff, hilt Honapiirto and Lord Wellington and tlio
Ilctman Platolf to make a work about— the world will bo
in a comparison qiiito tranrnijl. lint this is beside the
mark," he addocl, with an (^ITort, turning again from the
window. "We are now under fire, Mr. Aiiik!, as you
soldiers would say, and it is high time we should pn^pare
to go into action. Ho must not see you ; that would be
fatal. All that ho knows at present is tliat you reseniblo
him, and that is mindi more than enough. If it were pos-
sible, it would be well ho should not know you were in tiio
house."

" Quite impossible, do])cnd upon it," said I. " Home of
the servants are directly in his interests, perhaps in his
pay : Dawson, for an example."

♦* My own idea ! " cried liomaino. " And at least," ho
added, as the first of the cluiisos drew up with a dash iu
front of the portico, " it is now too late. Here he is."

We stood listening, with a strange anxiety, to the vari-
ous noises that awoke in the silent house : the sound of
doors opening and closing, the sound of feet near at hand
and fartlicr oif. It was plain the arrival of my cousin wa;i
a matter of moment, almost of parade, to the household.
And suddenly, out of this confused and distant bustle, a
rapid and light tread became distinguishable. We heard
it come upstairs, draw near along the corridor, pause at the
door, and a stealthy and hasty rapping succeeded.

*'Mr. Anno— Mr. Anne, sir! Let me iu!" said the
voice of Rowley.

We admitted the lad, and locked the door again behind
him.

" It's him, sir," he panted. '' Ile've come."

" You mean the Viscount ? " said I. " So we supposed.

But come, Rowley— out with the rest of it I You have

^lore to tell us, or your face belies you ! "
13

194

ST. IVES

" Mr. Anne, I do/' he said " Mr p«,„ •
a friend of his, uin't you ? " ^'"'^'"'' '"' >'«"'''«

'' yes, Oeorge, I am a friend of hi. " «.,iH 7? •

•.oen at ,„o - It's 'tl'^ t I, ':'?7'''^: f""" '-''

took it, so I did 1 s(,.it„ ' ; " s"""'" ■■ •''"«] I

j"g 0, the i:rit ei:,: fl"r t:'ir ■■■■ '"r-

from the look of an accomplice to th.t of ••"';'"■.';''"?-
^-«.at moment he .ecaL:,:^:!d:;oV;r.2iS
deS; ? '" ""*' • " '''"'"'^^ "- '->-. .. Is the f„„,
^^.;;No,"saidI; " he is onl, reminding me o,.„me-
" ^yell-and I believe the fellow will bo faithfnl » . ■ i

;;if you please, sir," said Rowley.

-. s;::r :i^^r:et:;tr;f ■• "^•" "

comes of honest oeo.,?^ w ,> ^ '° '^ '""'^*'- "''

embrace some eariv oL'^ ^ ^""^'' ^"^'^'y'' '"'S^''
by telling Mr S S"""""^' '» »«™ 'hat half-g„i„t„,

till noon to morrow f ^"^ '"'^'" ^■" "»' ''»™ '«'■
to morrow, ,t he go even then. Tell him there

MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMKS

195

5'J", you're

IJoniiiino.
slioiilder.
*o\vl Jiavt!
le Wiis at
' lio was
iprs ! Jiiit,

hear all
give j)i(!

"iiiul I
siiys 1 10,
' looked

10 knew
Jie paps-
ydUng —
it ; and
-drilled

the fool

some-

/' said
?" ho

but it
i. Ho
might
ainea,
I hero
there

are a hundred things to be done here, and a hundred more
that can only be done properly at my ofiice in llolborn.
Come to think of it— we liad better see to that first of all,"
he went on, unlocking the door. " CJet hold of Fowl, and
see. And be quick back, and clear me up this mess."

Mr. Ilowley was no sooner gone than the lawyer took a
pinch of snuff, and regarded me with somewhat of a more
genial expression.

" Sir," said he, " it is very fortunate for you that your
face is so strong a letter of recommendation. Here am I,
a tougli old practitioner, mixing myself up with your very
distressing business ; and here is this farruer's lad, who has
the wit to take a bribe and the loyalty to come and tell you
of it — all, I take it, on the strength of your appearance.
1 wish I could imagine how it would impress a jury I "
says lie.

"And how it would affect the hangman, sir ?" I asked.

" Absit omen!" said Mr. Romaine devoutly.

We were just so far in our talk, when I hoard a sound
that brought my heart into my mouth : the sound of some
one slyly trying the handle of the door. It had been pre-
ceded by no audible footstep. Since the departure of Row-
ley our wing of the house had beer entirely silent. And
we had every right to suppose ourselves alone, and to con-
clude that the new-comer, whoever he might be, was come
on a clandestine, if not a hostile, errand.

" Who is there ? " asked Romaine.

" It's only me, sir," said the soft voice of Dawson. " It's
the Viscount, sir. He is very desirous to speak with you
on business."

" Tell him I shall come shortly, Dawson," said the law-
yer. "I am at present engaged."

" Thank yon, sir ! " said Dawson.

And we heard his feet draw off slowly along the corridor,

190

ST. IVES

"I thmk there was indeed!" said I. "And wl„.t
roubles me-I am not sure that the oth;r has l,e n
.rely away. By the tin.o it got the length of LTloi
the stair the tread ,m plainly si.i-le "
•• Ahem-bloekaded ?" asked the lawyer.

A siege Mi-ijrZe.'" I exclaimed.
" Let us come farther from the door " ».,:,l p
"and reconsider this damnable ,„siti„7' WU of, 7'^'
Alan, was this moment at the doo He h' ° L""""'
and get a view of you. as if by aeddent bI'] ITJ

;:;'rf Se'iiT''' »■■ - "^ ..ntcd ua'r z:^;:;

" Himself, beyond a doubt," said I ''And v«f f^ i ^
end He eunnot think to p.s the „\ht U^ere P '' "'^^

maine 'T,tT ' ' wf ^' '' ^'"^^ "^ ^'^^^^ ' " «"»^^ ^r. Ro-
t on W . ' '' *^'' ^^''"^'^^^^ ^^-^^^^^^^k of your posi-

ad l.n! r '"^ '"' °^ ^^"^ ^^^"^^ ^^' s..izabirgoods
^»d how am I to set about it with a sentiuel planned L'
your very door?" ^"''^iiei planted at

;; There is no good in being agitated/' said I.

it i^wl ' n ' '^V'''"'^^°^^^' " ^''^' «ome to think of
momenf "'"7-^^' '^''' ^ ^'^^"^^ ^^^^^ been that very

ruTe Lr""*"'^ '" ^"" P^^-«^"^^ appearance, when
your cousin came upon this mission. I was savins if 1,!
remember, that your face was as good orrtteTtlfan a if
ter of recommendation. I wonder i- M Ti ^^'^''^Vf
like thp r^af r.t T *^^naer u M. Alam would be

iike^the rest of us-I wonder what he would think of

maintain-
is another

A-nd what
i gone en-
lie head of

Mlt. KOMAINE CALLS MK NAMES

VJ7

hearthrug and beginning mechanically to pick up the scat-
tered bills, when a honeyed voice joined suddenly in our
conversation.

" He thinks well of it, Mr. Romaine. He begs to join
himself to that circle of admirers which you indicate to ex-
ist already."

Romaine,
ut doubt,
1 to enter
1 in this,
1 here by

t to what

Mr. Ro-

our posi-
ggle you
e goods ;
mted at

think of
bat very
e, when
, if you
in a let-
)uld be
link of

ith his
on the

I *

CHAPTER XIX

THE DEVIL AND ALL AT XMKHSUAM PLACE

Never did two luu.mn .Tcutures got to their feet with
mo- ^tl-nty than the h.wyer an.l m^. w. ,,1"
.md Imrred the main gates of the eit-ul.>I • I.. * ,

-' l>a,I left open the bath.-oon s ut .-'t " ,.;;';'"^^''"^^

n ent with . kind of pathos, as who sliould say, - J)on'(
hit a man Avhen lie's down." Then I t.-.n.f...... /

to my enemy. ^ ti.in^ferred my eyes

He had his hat on, a little on one side • it wo, o v. , u

liat, raked extremely 'uu] h-ul .. ,. " .. '^^^'^ ^'^"

^ ,, "'^v"'"'^"'i<l ii narrow cur imhrini ir;.

tippeted overcoat of frieze si r n . ^^''^ ^ ^^"-'

the inside was lined J:;ri:;;^^c^^^^

open to display the exqnisite linen ;he r .nv .

to a miracle Tf ,•« ., f J !. ^ '® ''"'''^'' ^^^ ^"rncd

t' aiid confesivi.; to nothing P«,^f,; i i "luc oi

"ocnmg, Certainly he was what some
198

DEVIL AND ALL AT AMKUHIIAM PLACK

190

LACE

!ir foot Willi
! Iiiul loclsod

Illlliiilijuly

11(1 Ijoro uo

Klillg fioiii

1 took 1)11 1
; " Hero is
t me ii 1110-
tj, " Don't
3d my eyea

•ivery tall
•I'im. J lis
1 mouiite-
ted a huge
ivrjir, only
'.I it liiil'f
I- -colon rod
hains and
•re turned
3uld deny
larked by
mably ac-
7 little of
'hat some

might eall lumdsome, of a pictorial, exuberant stylo of
beauty, all attitiido, prollle, and impudeiico : a man whom
\ eould .see in faiuiy parade on the grand .stand at a race-
meeting, or swagger in Picoadilly, staring down the women,
and stared at himself with admiration by the coal-porters!
Of his frame of mind at that moment his tuce offered a
lively if an unconscious picture. He was lividly pale, and
his lip was caught up in a smile that could almost be called
a snarl, of u sheer, arid malignity that appalled in and
yet put me on my mettle for the encounter. He looked
me uj) and down, then bowed and took off his hat to me.

" My cousin, 1 presume ? " he .said.

" I understand I have that honour," [ replied.

"The honour is mine," said he, and his voice shook as
he said it.

" I should make you welcome, I believe," said I.

" Why ? " he inquired. " This poor house has been my
home for longer than I care to claim. That you should
already take upon yourself the duties of host here is to
be at unnecessary pains. Ikdieve me, that part would be
more becomingly mine. And, by the way, I must not
fail to offer you my little compliment. It is a gratifying
surprise to meet you in the dress of a gentleman, and
to see "—with a circular look upon the scattered bills—
"that your necessities liave already been so liberally re-
lieved." ^

I bowed with a smile that was perhaps no less hateful
than his own.

" There are so many necessities in this world," said I.
" Charity has to choose. One gets relieved, and some
other, no less indigent, perhaps indebted, must go want-
ing. "

" Malice is an engaging trait," said h^^
" And envy, I think ?" was my reply.

200

ST. IVES

He must liave felt that he was not getting wholly the
better of this passage at arms ; perhaps even feared that
iie should lose command of his temper, wliich he reined in
throughout the interview as with a red-hot curb, for he
flung away from me at the word, and .addressed the law-
yer with nisulting arrogance.

"Mr. Romaine," he said, '-since when have you pre-
sumed to give orders in tliis house ?" ,

" I am not prepared to admit that I have given any "
replied Romaine; - certainly none that did not fall in the
sphere of my responsibilities."

"By whose orders, then, am I denied entrance to mv
uncle s room ? " said my cousin.

" By tlie doctor's, sir," replied Romaine ; " and I think
even you will admit his faculty to give them."

Have

care, sir," cried Alain. '' Do not be puffed
up with your position. It is none so secure, Master At-
torney. I should not wonder in the least if you were
struck off the rolls for this night's work, and the next
i should see of you were when I flung you alms at a
potliouse door to mend your ragged elbows. The doctor's
orders ? But I believe I am not mistaken ! You have
to-night transacted business with the Count ; and this
needy young gentleman has enjoyed the privilege of still
another interview, in which (as I am pleased to see) his
dignity has not prevented his doing very well for himself
I wonder that you should care to prevaricate with me so
idly."

" I will confess so much," said Mr. Romaine, *' if you
call It prevarication. The order in question emanated
from the Count himself. He does not wish to see you."

" For which I must take the word of Mr. Daniel Ro-
maine ? " asked Alain.

** In default of any better," said Romaine.

■ wholly the
feared that
he reined in
:urb, for he
ed the law-

i^e you pre-

?iven any,"
fall in the

uce to my

nd I think

be puffed
Haster At-

you were
• the next
alms at a
le doctor's
You have

and this
ge of still
;o see) his
r himself,
ith me so

, " if you
emanated
e you."
•aniel Ro-

DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 201

There was an instantaneous convulsion in my cousin's
face, and I distinctly heard him gnash his teeth at this
reply ; but, to my surprise, he resumed in tones of almost
good humour :

" Come, Mr. Romaiue, do not let us be petty ! " He
drew in a chair and sat down. " Understand you have
stolen a march upon me. You have introduced your sol-
dier of Napoleon, and (how, I cannot conceive) he has
been apparently accepted with favour. I ask no better
proof than the funds with which I find him literally sur-
rounded—I presume in consequence of some extravagance
of joy at the first sight of so much money. The odds are
so far in your favour, but tlie match is not yet won.
Questions will arise of undue iniluence, of sequestration,
and the like : I have my witnesses ready. I tell it you
cynically, for you cannot profit by the knowledge ; and, if
the worst come to the worst, I have good hopes of recover-
ing my own and of ruining you."

"You do what you please," answered Romaine ; "but
I give it you for a piece of good advice, you had best do
nothing in the matter. You will only nuike yourself ri-
diculous ; you will only squander money, of which you
have none too much, and reaj) public mortification."

" Ah, but there you make the common mistake, Mr.
Romaine!" returned Alain. "You despise your adver-
sary. Consider, if you please, how very disagreeable I
could make myself, if I chose. Consider the position of
your protege— an escaped prisoner ! But I play a great
game. I contemn such petty opportunities."

At this Romaine and I exchanged a glance of triumph.
It seemed manifest that Alain had as yet received no word
of Clausel's recapture and denunciation. At the same
moment the lawyer, thus relieved of the instancy of his
fear, changed his tactics. With a great air of unconcern.

202

ST. IVES

he secured the newspaper, wliich still lay open before him
on the table.

" I think. Monsieur Alain, that you labour under some
illusion," said he. " Believe me, this is all beside the
mark. You seem to be pointing to some compromise.
Nothing is further from my views. You suspect me of
an inclination to trifle with you, to conceal how things are
going. I cannot, on the other hand, be too early or too
explicit in giving you information which concerns you (I
must say) capitally. Your great-uncle lias to-night can-
celled his will, and made a new one in favour of your
cousin Anne. Nay, and you shall hear it from his own
lips, if you choose ! I will take so much upon me," said
the lawyer, rising. '' Folio\\ me, if you please, gentlemen."

Mr. Romaine led the way out of the room so briskly,
and was so briskly followed by Alain, that I had hard ado
to get the remainder of the money replaced and the de-
spatch-box locked, and to overtake tliem, even by run-
ning, ere they should be lost in that maze of corridors, my
uncle's house. As it was, I went with a heart divided ;
and the thought of my treasure thus left unprotected,
save by a paltry lid and lock that any one might break or
pick open, put me in a perspiration whenever I had the
time to remember it. The lawyer brought us to a room,
begged us to be seated while he should hold a consultation
with the doctor, and, slipping out of another door, left
Alain and myself closeted together.

Truly he had done nothing to ingratiate himself ; his
every word had been steeped in unfriendliness, envy, and
that contempt which (as it is born of anger) it is possible
to support without humiliation. On my part, I had been
little more conciliating ; and yet I began to be sorry for
this man, hired spy as I knew him to be. It seemed to
me less than decent that he should have been brought up

DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE

203

in the expectation of this great inheritance, and now, at
the eleventh hour, be tumbled forth out of the house door
and left to himself, his poverty and his debts— those debts
of M'hich I had so ungallantly reminded him so short a
time before. And we were scarce left alone ere I made
haste to hang out a flag of truce.

"My cousin," said I, " trust me, you will not find me
inclined to be your enemy."

He paused in front of me-for he had not accepted the
lawyer's invitation to be seated, but walked to and fro in
the apartment— took a pinch of snuff, and looked at me
while he was taking it with an air of much curiosity.

" Is it even so ? " said he. " Am I so far favoured by
fortune as to have your pity ? Infinitely obliged, my
cousin Anne ! But these sentiments are not always re-
ciprocal, and I warn you that the day when I set my foot
on your neck, the spine shall break. Are you acquainted
with the properties of the spine ?" he asked, with an in-
solence beyond qualification.

It was too much. " I am acquainted also with the prop-
erties of ?. pair of pistols," said I, toising him.

" No, no, no ! " says he, holding up his finger. " I will
take my revenge how and when I please. We are enough
of the same family to understand each other, perhaps ; and
the reason why I have not had you arrested on your arri-
val, why I had not a picket of soldiers in the first clump
of evergreens, to await and prevent your coming— I, who
knew all, before whom that pettifogger, Romaine, has been
conspiring in broad daylight to supplant me-is simply
this : that I had not made up my mmd how I was to take
my revenge."

At that moment he was interrupted by the tollinff of a
bell. As we stood surprised and listening, it was succeeded
by tlie sound of many feet trooping up the stairs and shuf.

I -i

204

ST. IVES

fling by the door of our room. Both, I believe, had a
great curiosity to set it open, which each, owing to the
presence of the other, resisted ; and we waited instead in
silence, and without moving, until Romaine returned and
bade us to my uncle's presence. ' ,

He led the way by a little crooked passage, which brought
us out in the sick-room, and behind tlie bed. I believe I
have forgotten to remark that the Count's chamber was of
considerable dimensions. We beheld it now crowded with
the servants and dependants of the house, from the doctor
and the priest to Mr. Dawson and the housekeeper, from
Dawson down to Rowley and the last footman in white
calves, the last plump chambermaid in her clean gown and
cap, and the last ostler in a stable waistcoat. This large
congregation of persons (and I was surprised to see how
large it was) had the appearance, for the most part, of be-
ing ill at ease and heartily bewildered, standing on one
foot, gaping like zanies, and those who were in the corners
nudging each other and grinning aside. My uncle, on the
other hand, who was raised higher than I had yet seen iiim
on his pillows, wore an air of really imposing gravity. No
sooner had we appeared behind him, than l:e lifted his
voice to a good loudness, and addressed the assemblage.

" I take you all to witness— can you hear me ?— I take
you all to witness that I recognise as my heir and repre-
sentative this gentleman, whom most of you see for the
first time, the Viscount Anne de St. -Yves, my nephew of
the younger line. And I take you to witness at the same
time that, for very good reasons known to myself, I have
discarded and disinherited this other gentleman whom you
all know, the Viscount de St. -Yves. I have also to ex-
plain the unusual trouble to which I have put you all—
and, since your sui)per was not over, I fear 1 may even say
annoyance. It has pleased M. Alain to make some threats

.ft

■%

ve, had a
ng to the
n stead in
inied and

h brought

believe I
er WHS of
'ded with
lie doctor
per, from

in white
gown and
'his hirge

see how
rt, of be-
g on one
le corners
le, on the
seen him
nty. No
ifted his
blage.
' — I take
d re})re-

for the
sphew of
;he same
', I have
bom you
0 to ex-
on all —
even say
e threats

DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 205

of disputing my will, and to protend that there are among
your number certaiji estimable persons who may be truRted
to swear as he shall direct them. It pleases me thus to
put it out of his power and to stop the mouths of his false
witnesses. I am infinitely obliged by your politeness, and
I have the honour to wish you all a very good evening."

As the servants, still greatly mystified, crowded out of
the sick-room door, curtseying, pulling the forelock, scrap-
ing with the foot, and so on, according to their degree, I
turned and stole a look at my cousin. He had borne this
crushing public rebuke without change of countenance.
He stood, now, very upright, with folded arms, and look-
ing inscrutably at the roof of the apartment. I could
not refuse him at that moment the tribute of my admira-
tion. Still more so when, the last of the domestics hav-
ing filed through the doorway and left us alone with my
great- uncle and the lawyer, he took one step forward tow-
ards the bed, made a dignified reverence, and addressed
the man who had just condemned him to ruin.

" My lord," said he, " you are pleased to treat me in a
manner which my gratitude, and your state, equally forbid
me to call in question. It will be only necessary for me
to call your attention to the length of time in which I
have been taught to regard myself as your heir. In that
position, I judge<I it only loyal to permit myself a certain
scale of expenditure. If I am now to be cut off with a
shilling as the reward of twenty years of service, I shall be
left not only a beggar, but a bankrupt."

Whether from the fatigue of his recent exertion, or by
a well-inspired ingenuit} of hate, my uncle had once more
closed his eyes ; nor did he open them now. '' Not with
a shilling," he contented himself with replying , and there
stole, as he said it, a sort of smile over his face, that flick-
ered there conspicuously for the least moment of time, and

206

8T. IVES

* I

then faded and left behind the old impenetrable mask of
years, cunning, and fatigue. There could be no mistake •
my uncle enjoyed the situation as he had enioyed few
things in the last quarter of a century. The fires of life
scarce survived in that frail body ; but hatred, like some
immortal quality, was still erect and unabated.
Nevertheless my cousin persevered.
''I speak at a disadvantage," he resumed. - Mv sup-
planter, with perhaps more wisdom than delicacy, remains
in the room, ' and he cast a glance at me that might have
withered an oak tree. ^

I was only too willing to withdraw, and Romaine showed
us much alacrity to make way for my departure. But my
uncle was not to be moved. In thesame breath of a voice!
and . Ill without opening his eyes, he bade me remain.

von V7 ^ «fd Alain. -I cannot then go on to remind
you of the twenty years that have passed over our heads
m England, and the services I may have rendered you in
t lat time. It would be a position too odious. YouV lord-
ship knows me too well to suppose I could stoop to such
ignommy. I must leave out all my defence-your lordship
wills It so ! I do not know what are my faults ; I know
only my punishment, and it is greater than I have the
courage to face. My uncle, I implore your pity • pardon
me so far ; do not send me for life' into 'a deb 1"' l"
pauper debtor." '' ^

"C^^><i{ei vieux,pardomez?" said my uncle, quoting
fi^m La Fontoe ; and then, opening a pale-blue eyeful!
on Alain, he delivered with some emphasis :

" La jeuuesse se flatte et croit tout obtenir;
La vieillesse ust impitoyable."

The blood leaped darkly into Alain's face. He turned
to Romaine and me, and his eyes flashed.

3 mask of
' mistake :
joyed few
res of life
lilce some

'My snp-
, remains
gilt have

lesliowed
But my

f a voice,

nain.

io remind

ur heads

1 you in

our lord-
to sucli

lordsliip
J know

uive the
pardon

' jail — a

quoting
eye full

*3P

"5?

! turned

DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 207

"It is your turn now," he said. " At least it shall be
prison for prison with the two viscounts."

"Not so, Mr. Alain, by your leave," said Romaine.
*' There are a few formalities to be considered first."
But Alain was already striding towards the door.
"Stop a moment, stop a moment !" cried Romaine.
" Remember your own counsel not to despise an adversary."
Alain turned.

"If I do not despise I hate you !" he cried, giving a
loose to his passion. " Be warned of that, both of you."

" I understand you to threaten Monsieur le Viconite
Anne," said the lawyer. " Do you know, 1 would not do
that. I am afraid, I am very much afraid, if you were
to do as you propose, you might drive me into extremes."
" You have made me a beggar and a bankrupt," said
Alain. " What extreme is left ? "

" I scarce like to put a name upon it in this company,"
replied Romaine. " But there are worse things than even
bankruptcy, and worse places than a debtors' jail."

The words were so significantly said that there went a
visible thrill through Alain ; sudden as a swordstroke, he
fell pale again.
"I do not understand you," said he.
"0 yes, you do," returned Romaine. "I believe you
understand me very well. You must not suppose that all
this time, whi^r. you were so very busy, others were en-
tirely idle, ion must not fancy, because I am an Eng-
lishman, that I have not the intelligence to pursue an in-
quiry. Great as is my regard for the honour of your
house, M. Alain de St.-Yves, if I hear of you moving
directly or indirectly in this matter, I shall do my duty,
let it cost what it will : that is, I .shall communicate the
real name of the Buonapartist spy who signs his letters
jRue Oregoire de I'ours."

fi i:

"- 3.1

h
If ■

If t

208

ST. IVES

_ I confess my lieart was already almost altogether on tlie
side of my insulted and unhappy cousin ; and if it had not
been before, it must have been so now, so horrid was the
shock with which he heard his infamy exposed. Speech
was denied him ; he carried his hand to his neckcloth • lie
staggered ; I thought he must have fallen. I ran to help
him, and at that he revived, recoiled before me, and stood
tliere with arms stretched forth as if to preserve himself
from the outrage of my touch.

" Hands off ! " he somehow managed to articulate
"You will now, I hope," pursued the lawyer, without
any change of voice, -understand the position in which
you are placed, and how delicately it behoves you to con-
duct yourself. Your arrest hangs, if I may so express my-
self by a hair ; and as you will bo under the perpetual
vigilance of myself and my agents, you must look to it
narrowly that you walk straight. Upon the least dubiety
I will take action." He snuffed, looking critically at the
tortured man. "And now let me remind you that your
chaise is at the door. This interview is agitating to his
lordship— it cannot be agreeable for von— and I sugcrest
that It need not be further drawn out. It does not enter
into the views of your uncle, the Count, that you should
again sleep under this roof."

As Alain turned and passed without a word or a sign
from the apartment, I instantly followed. I suppose I
must be at bottom possessed of some humanity ; at least
this accumulated torture, this slow butchery of a man as
by quarters of rock, had wholly changed my sympathies.
At that moment I loathed both my uncle ajid the lawyer
tor their cold-blooded cruelty.

Leaning over the banisters, I was but in time to hear
his hasty footsteps in that hall that had been crowded with
servants to honour his coming, and was now left empty

DEVIL AND ALL AT AMEUSHAM PLACE 2U9

against his friendless departure. A moment later, and the
echoes rang and the air whistled in my ears, as he slammed
the door on his departing footsteps. The fury of the con-
cussion gave me (iiad one been still wanted) a measure of
the turmoil of his passions. In a sense, I felt with him ;
I felt how he would have gloried to slam that door on my
uncle, the lawyer, myself, and tlie whole crowd of those
who had been witnesses to his humiliation.

CHAPTER XX

II ! til!

0»;

AFTER THE STORM

No sooner was the house clear of my cousir, ^:han I be-
'rAr':!s"f ^"f '"^--'^h, the^robable results of

^ ui it ?n.r ; ''"■^''"■'^ '" """'^^^ «^ P'^t^ broken,

cud It looked to me us if I should have to pay for all »

le i^, . ^ "" .^"''''''^' '^" ^^^ ^^"^^ "Either hear nor
ee no reason ; whereupon the gate had been set open, and
he had been eft free to go and .cntrive whateieTC-
geance he might find possible. I could not help thinkW
It was a pity that, whenever I myself was inlied to bf
upon my good behaviour, some friends of mine should
always determme to play a piece of heroics and cast me r

TletstTlUvl'fr "-"'"' '' ^^^^"^-^^ «- --e.
Uie hist duty of heroics is to be of your own choosing

you, as 1 walked back to my own room, I was in no verv
complaisant humour : thought my uncle and Mr To.
maine to have played knuckle-bones with my Hfe and

urgent than to avoid the pair of them ; and was ouitP

210

it,

•if

AFTER THE STORM

211

<han I be-
' results of
ts broken,
y for all !
md baited
r hear nor
open, and
ever ven-

tliinking
tied to be
le should
ist me for
he same.
3hoosing.
1 I assure

no very
Mr. Eo-
life and
ish more
as quite
d myself

himney-
eased to
the late

" Well ? " said I. " You have done it, now ! "

" Is he gone ? " he asked.

" He is gone," said I. " We shall have the devil to pay
with him when he comes back,"

"You are right," said the lawyer, "and very little to
pay him with but flams and f brications, like to-night's."

"To-night's ?"I repeated.

" Ay, to-night's ! " said he.

" To-night's what ? " I cried.

"To-night's flams and fabrications."

" God be good to me, sir," said I, " have I something
more to admire in your conduct than ever / had sus-
pected ? You cannot think how you interest me ! That
it was severe, I knew ; 1 liad already chuckled over that.
But that it should be false also . In what sense, dear
sir ? "

I believe I was extremely offensive as I put the question,
but the lawyer paid no heed.

" False in all senses of the word," he replied, seriously.
" False in the sense that they were not true, and false in
the sense that they were not real ; false in the sense that I
boasted, and in the sense that I lied. How can I arrest
him ? Your uncle burned the papers ! I told you so — but
doubtless you have forgotten— the day I first saw you in
Edinburgh Castle. It was an act of generosity ; I have
seen many of these acts, and always regretted — always re-
gretted ! ' That shall be his inheritance,' he said, as the
papers burned ; he did not mean that it should have
proved so rich a one. How rich, time will tell."

" I beg your pardon a hundred thousand times, my dear
sir, but it strikes me you have the impudence— in the cir-
cumstances, I may eall it the indecency— to appear east
down ? "

" It is true," said he : " I am. I am cast down. I am

i , «

212

ST. IVES

literally cast down. I feel myself quite helpless against
your cousin." ' ^

'; Now really ! " I asked. - Is this serious ? And is it
perhaps the reason why you have gorged the poor devil
with every spec.es of insult? and wliy you took such sur-
prising pains to supi)ly „,e with what I had so little need

0 -another enemy ? That you were helpless against him v
Here is my last missile/ say you ; ' my ammunition is

qui e exhausted : just wait till I get the last in-it will
irritate, it cannot hurt him. There-you see !-he is furi-
ous now and I am quite helpless. One more prod, an-
other kick : now he is a mere lunatic ! Stand hehiml me •

1 am quite helpless ! ' Mr. Komaine, I am asking myself
as to the background or motive of this singular jest," and
whether the name of it should not be called treachery ''>"

I can scarce wonder," said he. - In truth it has been
a singular business, and we are very fortunate to be out of
It so well, let it was not treachery : no, no, Mr. Anne
It was not treachery ; and if you will do me the favour to
isten to me for the inside of a minute, I shall demonstrate
the same to you beyond cavil." lie seemed to wake up to
ins ordinary briskness. - You see the point ? " he be'an
He had not yet read the newspaper, but who could^ell
when he might ? He might have had that damned iour-
nal in his pocket, and how should we know ? We were—
I may say we are-at the mercy of the merest twoi)ennv
accident. -'

" Why, true," said I : '' J had not thought of that "
-I warrant you," cried Romaine, "you had supposed it
was nothing to be the hero of an interesting notice in the
journals ! You had supposed, as like as not, it was a form
of secrecy ! But not so in the least. A part of England
18 already buzzing witli the name of Champdivers ; a day
or two more and the mail will have carried it everywhere'

'SI

AFTER THE STORHl

213

088 ugiiinst

And is it
1)00 r (lovil
: such pur-
littlo need
ainst him?
iiinition in
in— it will
-lie is fiiri-
prod, iin-
:!liind me ;
ng myself
' jest, and
ihery ?"
t has been
be out of
Ir. Anne,
favour to
monstrate
ake up to
he began,
^ould tell
lied jour-
'^e were —
iwopenny

hat."
pposed it
36 in tlie
IS a fcrni
England
s ; u day
y where •

so wonderfnl a machine is this of ours for disseminating
intelligence I 'riiink of it ! When my father was born

but that is another story. To return : wo had here

the elements of suc^h a combustion as I dread to tliink of
— your cousin and the journal. Lot him but glance an
eye upon that (jolumn of print, and where were we ? It is
easy to ask ; not so easy to answer, my young frien<l.
And let me tell you, this sheet is the Viscount's usual
reading. It is my conviction he had it in his jiocket."

" I beg your pa don, sir," said I. "I have been unjust.
I did not appreciate my danger."

" I think you never ilo," said he.

" But yet surely that public scene " I began.

"It was madness. I quite agree Avith you," Mr. Ro-
maine interrupted. " But it was your uncle's orders, Mr.
Anne, and what could I do? Tell him you were the mur-
derer of Goguelat ? I think not."

"No, sure!" said I. "That would but have been to
make the trouble thicker. We were certainly in a very ill
posture."

" You do not yet appreciate how grave it was," he re-
plied. " It was necessary for you that your cousin should
go, and go at once. You yourself had to leave to-night
under cover of darkness, and how could you have done that
with the Viscount in the next room ? He must go, then ;
he must leave without delay. And that was the diffi-
culty."

* ' Pardon me, Mr. Romaine, but could not my uncle
have bidden him go ? " I asked.

" Why, I see I must tell you that this is not so simple
us it sounds," he replied. " You say this is your uncle's
house, and so it is. But to all effects and purposes it ig
your cousin's also. He has rooms here ; has had them
coming on for thirty years now, and they are filled with a

■' 1 1

214

ST. IVE8

prodigious accumulation of trasli «fo t ,
powder-puffs, and sucli effeminl 7 ^'^ ^ '^''''"^' ^"^
could dispute his title evln ^^^'"^^-t^ ^^^ich none

We had a perfect right to b d l^'^'''' "'^' "^^ ^^^^^^^ ^o.
feet right to reply ?Ye T ' ^?' ""^ ^'' ^''''^ ^ P^^-

«%s and cravats' 'l I^l first ef? '".', "^' ^^'^^^^^"^ ™^
dred-and-ninety-nine c le ttf ui'of ^^^"r ''" "^"^-^^"-
that I have spent the ^^^ ^,:Z^' ^"'''^"'
very well spend the next thirfv T, '^^^"^^^"^g-'WiJ may

what shou/d we hav^ald ["ttatr ^"^^^^^"^ ^^"^ An.!
Uy way of repartee ? " I askod ^^ ^r, , „

"ling to do, and I did it a^d h /"■' "'^ """^ »™
*e doing Of ,-, I sZlnl'rT„d"T' "'"'"'^'' '"
honrs, by wliicli we shonM 1 i i ' ^a™ "» "'reo

there is one thing „rii^t,r^' Tu '° J"-""' '" "
to-morrow in the n.or„'i„g " """ '"' "^ '" '""^ "S"''"

ing of all this." ^^inocc?u ! For I guessed noth-

CndV'retn^.iL'r'' ^''" *^ ^^ ""j-""- '« leave

"The same," said I.

;;it is indispensable," he objected. ;

And It cannot be," I renlied « p

to say in the matter; and Imnst r^ot l^T"" ^"' "'^'^'"^
of yours. It will be enou..h^rf ^°° squander any

the heart." "^'' ^° ^^" )^«« this is an affair of

"Is it even so.?"onnfii p^

;And I might have blLforrV^''^ '""^ ^^'^^•
pital, put them in a iail "In '"' "'''" '^ ^ ^o^-

jaii in yellow overalls, do what you

AFTER THE STORM

215

iresay, and
vhich none
wanted to.
liad a per-
ithout my
nine-hun-
■ rubbish,
—and may
of And

I footmen

aymeii ! "
he begin-
but one
tridge in
us three
t; for if
^le again

do they
id noth^

to leave

nothing
ler any
fair of

head,
a hos-
t you

will, young Jessamy finds young Jenny. 0, have it your
own way ; I am too old a hand to argue with yonng gentle-
men who choose to fancy themselves in love ; I have too
much experience, thank you. Only, be sure that you appre-
ciate what you risk : the prison, the dock, the gallows, and
the halter — terribly vulgar circumstances, my you ag friend ;
grim, sordid, earnest ; no poetry in that ! "

" And there I am warned," I returned gaily. " No man
could be warned more finely or with a greater eloquence.
And I am of the same opinion still. Until I have again
seen that lady, nothing shall induce me to quit Great
Britain. I have besides "

And here I came to a full stop. It was upon my tongue
to have told him the story of the drovers, but at the first
word of it my voice died in my throat. There might be a
limit to the lawyer's toleration, I reflected. I had not been
so long in Britain altogether ; for the most part of that time
I had been by the heels in limbo in Edinburgh Castle ; and
already I had confessed to killing one man with a pair of
scissors ; and now I was to go on and plead guilty to having
settled another with a holly stick ! A wave of discretion
went over me as cold and as deep as the sea.

*' In short, sir, this is a matter of feeling," I concluded,
"and nothing will prevent my going to Edinburgh."

If I had fired a pistol in his ear he could not have been
more st'artled.

" To Edinburgh ? " he repeated. " Edinburgh ? where
the very paving-stones know you ! "

" Then is the murder out ! " said I. " But, Mr. Ro-
maine, is there not sometimes safety in boldness ? Is it not
a commonplace of strategy to get where the enemy least
expects you ? And where would he expect me less ?"

"Faith, there is something in that, too!" cried the
lawyer. " Ay, certainly, a great deal in that. All the wit-

216

ST. IVES

!!■

the streets of the ,! ' ?® T'"' "' '>°I»'-»nd walking

;; Yo„ approve it, Llr'laiiL '''''''■ """'"^ '"
"0, approve!" sjiid hp • ff+i,„„ •
proval. There is o v n.!' /' "° '1"''^^°^ ^^ ^P"

-«.at™rt;::;;rc::i::r\ir"^
" N™, L'ir! "tfj'if'Tr^' "' '^"^' ■ " I '""'""ted.

Plied "rn ' ""''' "<" "'""'"• " I did," ho re-

AndIa,nttCti:;t ™' Sf" "" ""^'""^ '"■^"- •
course th„ b^,: . /"'V" ' "'" »»- ''-'S-- by that
bed and fall ,s 2,7 l ^ , "'*"<"'™»"' time to get to
walk, as t r,™ ■„ ° l-,V-"'y oros.road\„<,

morning take a c'Cis „ taic 1 e tdlL" '"'''' '" ""
tinue yonr journey with all tl '"'"''" !'''"'»»'■''. and con-

wbieh^ousL,, be-f:;;!;,:4awe""°™"' ""' "^^"^ »'

'• I am taking the picture in," I said. " Give me ti,.-,

lis the (out ensemble I must see • tl,„ „,i, t "

tiie details. " ' "^ ''''»''' «« "PPosed to

"Mountebank!" he mnrmured.

and\i:^i:r,tt:vie;:"sairr^="* ^'"''---''

So as to have one more lint T,r,-fK
gested the lawyer. « V^'/.liltei:;";/"" """'^ ' " '"^-

to last for thir ;;:'•. I rn"or,"'*"''"'f"'"""' "'
living granite for the™ kt'nlfrl 1^'"'""' ''" "'"
i"g picture-seen, adS 'an g n l^XZ'~\^';
an eye. Whnt i« w-.n+.i • , ^ "^ *"® ^'»^k of

=>.ai/be g!;re::u;rS' .^.t < trrr '''^'■^ """

not so.?" "^"^^ ^' ^n "lu- is it

.'.A..

AFTER THE STORM

i217

1 ; you your-
-and walking
ed by your—
ed, indeed ! "

3stion of ap-
uld approve,

substituted,
did," he re-
1 argument,
'ger by tliat
me to get to
3s-road and
lit. In the
i*e, and con-
reserve of

e me Hhq,
opposed to

a servaut.

le."^

sug-

ixclaimed.
:eptifin fit
ce in the
nt — a fly-
B wink of
I'ceil that
lu ; is it

''It is, and tlie objection holds. Rowley is but another
danger,'- said Roniaine.

"Rowley," said I, -will pass as a servant from a dis-
tance—as a creature seen poised on the dicky of a boulin-r
chaise. He will pass at liand as the smart, civil fellow out
meets in the inn corridor, and looks back at, and asks, and
IS told, ' Gentleman's servant in iS'umber 4. ' He will pass,
in fact, all round, except with his personal friends ! '.My
dear sir, pray what do you expect ? Of course, if we meet
my cousin, or if we meet anybody who took part in the
judicious exhibition of this evening, we are lost ; and who's
denying it ? To every disguise, however good and safe,
there is always the weak point ; you must always take (let
us say— and to take a simile from your own waistcoat
pocket) a snuff-box-full of risk. You'll get it just as small
with Rowley as with anybody else. And the long and short
of It IS, the lad's honest, he likes me, I trust him ; he is my
servant, or nobody."

" He might not accept," said Romaine.

" I bet you a thousand pounds he does ! " cried I. " But
no matter; all you have to do is to send him out to-night
on this cross-country business, and leave the thing to me
I tell you, he will be my servant, and I tell you, he will do
well."

I had crossed the room, and was already overhauling my
wardrobe as I spoke.

"Well," concluded the lawyer, with a shrug, "one risk
with another : h la guerre comme a lagnerre, as you would
say. Let the brat come and be useful, at loast.'' And he
was about to ring the bell, when his eye was caught by my
researches in the wardrobe. "Do not fall in love with
tliese coats, waistcoats, cravats, and other panoply and ac-
coutrements by which you are now surrounded. You must
not run the post as a dandy. It is not the fashion, even '

218

ST. IVES

" You are pleased to be facetious, sir," said I ; " and not
according to knowledge. These clothes are my life, they
are my disguise ; and since I can take but few of them, I
were a fool indeed if I selected hastily ! Will you under-
stand, once and for all, what I am seeking ? To be in-
visible, is the first point ; the second, to be invisible in a
post-chaise and with a servant. Can you not perceive the
delicacy of the quest ? Nothing must be too coarse, noth-
ing too fine ; riende voyant, Hen quitUtonne; so that I
may leave everywhere the inconspicuous image of a hand-
some young man of a good fortune travelling in proper
style, whom the laiullord will forget in twelve hours— and
the chambermaid perha})s remember, God bless her ! with
a sigh. This is the very fine art of dress."

" I have practised it with success for fifty years," said
Romaine, with a chuckle. '' A black suit and a clean shirt
is my infallible recipe."

''You surprise me ; I did not think you would be shal-
low!" said I, liagering between two coats. "Pray, Mr.
' Romaine, have I your head ? or did you travel post and
with a smartish servant ?"
" ]S"either, I admit," said he.

" Which changes the whole problem," I continued. " I
have to dress for a smartish servant and a Russia leatlier
despatch-box." That brouglit me to a stand. I came over
and looked at the box with a moment's hesitation. " Yes,"
I resumed. " Yes, and for the despatch-box ! It looks
moneyed and landed ; it means I have a lawyer. It is an
invaluable property. But I could have wished it to hold
less money. The responsibility is crushing. Should I not
do more wisely to take five hundred pounds, and entrust
the remainder Avitli you, Mr. Romaine ? "

*' If you are sure you will not want it," answered Romaine.
** I am far from sure of that," cried I. *'In the fiist

■a'

T
"J

; "and not
y life, they
of them, I
you under-
To be in-
visible in a
lerceive the
)iirse, noth-
• so tliat I
of a liand-
j in proper
lours — and
her ! with

ears," said
clean shirt

d be shal-
Pray, Mr.

1 post and

tiued. " I
5ia leather
came over
. "Yes,"
It looks
It is an
it to hold
Diild I not
id entrust

Romaine.
1 the fiist

AFTER THE STORM

219

place, as a philosopher. This is the first time I have been at
the head of a largp sum, and it is conceivable— who knows
himself .»— tlmt I may make it fly. In tlie second place,
as a fugitive. Who knows what I may need ? The whole
of it may be inadequate. But I can always write for more/'
** You do not understand," he rc])lied. " I break off all
communication with you here aiul now. You must give
me a power of attorney ere you start to-niglit, and then be
done with me troncliantly until better days."
I believe I offered some objection.
"Think a little for once of me !" said Romaine. "I
must not have seen you before to-niglit. To-night we are
to have had our only interview, and you are to have given
me the power ; and to-night I am to have lost sight of you
again— I know not whither, you were upon business, it
was none of my affairs to question you ! And this, you are
to remark, in the interests of your own safety much more
than inine."

" I am not even to write to you ?" I said, a little be-
wildered.

" I believe I am cutting the last strand that connects you
with common sense," he replied. " But that is the plain
English of it. You are not even to write ; and if you did,
I would not answer."

"A letter, however " I began.

" Listen to me," interrupted Romaine. " So soon as
your cousin re:.ds the paragraph , what will he do ? Put
the police upon looking into my orrespondence ! So soon
as you write to me, in short, you write to Bow Street ; and
if you will take ray advice, you will date that letter from
France."

" The devil ! " said I, for I began suddenly to see that
this might put me out of the way of my business,
" What is it now ? " says he.

220

ST. IVES

" There will be more to be done, then, before we can
part," I answered.

"I give you the whole night," said he. "So long as
you arc off ere daybreak, I am content."

" in short, Mr. Komaine," said I, " I have had so much
benefit of your advice and services that I am loath to sever
the connection, and would even ask a substitute. 1 would
be obliged for a letter of introduction to one of your own
cloth in Edinburgh— an old man for choice, very experi-
enced, very respectable, and very secret. Could you favour
me with sucli a letter ?"

"Why, no," said he. "Certaii.ly not. I will do no
such thing, indeed."

" It would be a great favour, sir," I pleaded.

"It would be an unpardonable blunder," he replied.
" What ? Give you a letter of introduction ? and when
the police come, I suppose, I must forget the circumstance ?
No, indeed. Talk of it no more."

" You seem to be always in the right," said I. "The
letter would be out of tlie question, I quite see that. But
the lawyer's name might very well have dropped from you
in the way of conversation ; having heard him mentioned,
I might profit by the circumstance to introduce myself ;
and in this way my business would be the better done, and
you not in the least compromised."

" What is this business ? " said Eomaine.

" I have not said that I had any," I replied. " It might
arise. This is only a possibility that I must keep in view."
" Well," said he, with a gesture of the hands, "I men-
tion Mr. Robbie ; rnd let that be an end of it !— Or wait ! "
he added, " I have it. Here is something that will serve
you for an introduction, and cannot compromise me."
And he wrote his name and the Edinburgh lawyer's address
on a piece of card and tossed it to me.

tre we can

So long as

id so much
th to sever
. 1 would
your own
3ry experi-
you favour

tvill do no

16 replied,
and when
afnstance ?

I. "The
ihat. But
from you
nentioned,
!e myself ;
done, and

' It might
) in view."
"I men-
Orwait!"
will serve
nise me."
r's address

CHAPTER XXI

I BECOME THE OWXER OF A CLARET-COLOURED CHAISE

What with packing, signing papers, and partaking of
an excellent cold supper in the lawyer's room, it was past
two m the morning before we were ready for the road
Komame himself let us out of a window in a part of the
house known to Rowley : it appears it served as a kind of
postern to the servants' hall, by which (when they were in
tlie mind for a clandestine evening) they would come regu-
larly in and out ; and I remember very well the vinegar
aspect of the lawyer on the receipt of this piece of infor-
matioii-how he pursed his lips, jutted his eyebrows, and
kept repeating, "This must be seen to, indeed ! this shall
be barred to-morrow in the morning !" In this preoecu-
pation, I believe he took leave of me without observing it •
our things were handed out ; we heard the window shut
behind us ; and became instantly lost in a horrid intricacy
of blackness and the shadow of woods.

A little wet snow kept sleepily falling, pausing, and fall-

ing again ; it seemed perpetually beginning to snow and

perpetually leaving off ; and the darkness was intense.

lime and again we walked into trees; time and again

found ourselves adrift among garden borders or stuck like

a ram in the thicket. Rowley had possessed himself of the

matches, and he was neither to be terrified nor softened.

^o, I will not, Mr. Anne, sir," he would reply. " You

know he tell mt to wait till we were over the 'ill. It's only

231

232

ST. IVES

a little way now. Why, and I thought yon was a soldier,
too ! " I was at least a very glad soldier when my valet
consented at last to kindle a thieves' match. From this,
we easily lit the lantern ; and thenceforward, through a
labyrinth of woodland paths, wore conducted by its uneasy
glimmer. Both booted and great-coated, with tall hats
much of a sliape, and laden with booty in the form of the
despatch -box, a case of pistols, and two plump valises, I
thought we had very much the look of i" pair of brothers
returning from the sack of Amersham Place.

We issued at last upon a country by-road wliere we might
walk abreast and without precaution. It was nine miles to
Aylesbury, our immediate destination ; by a watch, which
formed part of my new outfit, it should be about half -past
three in the morning ; and af, we did not choose to arrive
before daylight, time could lot be said to press. I gave
the order to march at ease.

" Now, Rowley," said I, " so far so good. You have
come, in the most obliging manner in the world, to carry
these valises. The question is, what next ? What are
we to do at Aylesbury ? or, more particularly, what are
you ? Thence, I go on a journey. Are you to accompany
me?"

He gave a little chuckle. " That's all settled already,
Mr. Anne, sir," he replied. '* Why, I've got my things
here in the valise — a half a dozen shirts and what not ; I'm
all ready, sir : just you lead on ; you'll see."

•' The devil you have ! " said I. " You made pretty
sure of your welcome."

**If you please, sir," said Rowley.

He looked up at me, in tlie light of the lantern, with a
boyish shyness and triumph that awoke my conscience. I
could never let this innocent involve himself in the perJls
and difficulties that beset my course, without 3ome hint of

;i_

a soldier,

my valet

roin this,

;hrougli a

its uneasy

tall hats

•m of the

valises, I

I brothers

we might
e miles to
eh, which
: half-past
! to arrive
;. I gave

You have
I, to carry
What are
what are
,ccompany

d already,

ny things

not ; I'm

ide pretty

rn, with a

cience. I

the perils

ne hint of

I BECOME THE OWNEU OF A CHAISE 223

warning, which it was a matter of extreme delicacy to make
plain enough and not too plain.

" No, no," said I ; " you may think you have made a
choice, but it was blindfold, and you must nuike it over
again. The Count's service is a good one ; what are you
leaving it for ? Are you not tlironiug au'ay tlie substance
for the shadow ? No, do not answer me yet. You iimig-
inc tluit I am a prosperous nobleman, just declared m^y
uncle's heir, on tlie threshold of tlie beat of good fortune,
and from the point of view of a judicious servant, a jewel
of a master to serve and stick to? Well, my boy, I am
nothing of the kind, nothing of the kind."

As I said the words, I came to a full stop and held up
the lantern to his face. He stood before me, brilliantly
illuminated on tlie background of impenetrable night and
falhng snow, stricken to stone between his double burden
like an ass between two panniers, and gaping at me like a
blunderbuss. I had never seen a face so predestined to be
astonished, or so susceptible of rendering the emotion of
surprise ; and it tempted me as an open piano tempts the
musician.

"Nothing of the sort, Eowley," I continued, in a church-
yard- voice. - These are appearances, pretty appearances.
1 am in peril, homeless, hunted. I count scarce any one
in England who is not my enemy. From this hour I drop
my name, my title ; I become nameless ; my name is pro-
scribed. My liberty, my life, hang by a hair. The des-
tiny which you will accept, if you go forth with me, is to
be tracked by spies, to hide yourself under a false name, to
tollow the desperate pretences and perhaps share the fate
ot a murderer with a price upon his head."

His face had been hitherto beyond expectation, passing
from one depth to another of tragic astonishment, and
really worth paying to see ; but at this, it suddenly cleared.

224

ST. IVES

♦*0, I ain't afraid!" he said; and then, choking into
hiugliter, '' why, I see it from the first ' "

I could have beaten him. But I had so grossly overshot
the mark that I suppose it took me two good miles of road
and half an hour of elocution to persuade him I had been
in earnest. In the course of which, I became so interested
in demonstrating my present danger that I forgot all about
my future safety, and not only told him the story of
Gosuelat, but threw in the business of the drovers as well,
and ended by blurting out that I was a soldier of Nf.po-
leon's and a prisoner of war.

This was far from my views when I began ; and it is a
common complaint of me that I have a long tongue. I
believe it is a fault beloved by fortune. AVhich of you con-
siderate fellows would have done a thing at once so fool-
hardy and so wise as to make a confidant of a boy in his
teens, and positively smelling of the nursery ? And when
had I cause to repent it ? There is none so apt as a boy to
be the adviser of any man in difficulties such as mine. To
the beginnings of virile common sense he adds the last
lights of the child's imagination ; and he can fling himself
into business with that superior earnestness that properly
belongs to play. And Rowley was a boy made to my hand.
He had a high sense of romance, and a secret cultus for all
soldiers and criminals. His travelling library consisted of
a chap-book life of Wallace and some sixpenny parts of the
'Old Bailey Sessions Papers' by Gurney the shorthand
writer ; and the choice depicts his character to a hair. You
can imagine how his new prospects brightened on a boy of
this disposition. To be the servant and companion of a
fugitive, a soldier, and a murderer, rolled in one — to live
bv p.trataicrems, dis""uises, and false names, in an atmosphere
of midnight and mystery so thick that you could cut it
with a knife— was really, I believe, more dear to him than

'4^

Ing into

overshot
s of road
lad been
iterostcd
ill a])oiit
story of
I as well,
if Nf.po-

i it is a
igue. I
you con-
I so fool-
oy in his
nd when

a boy to
line. To

the last
T himself
properly
iiy hand.
us for all
isisted of
rts of the
horthand
air. You

a boy of
lion of a
> — to live
tnosphere
Id cut it
him than

i-i

I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE 226

his meals, though he was a great trencherman, and some-
thing of a glutton besides. For myself, as tlie peg ly which
all this romantic business hung, I was simply idolised f-om
that moment ; and he would rather have sacrificed his
hand than surrendered the privilege of serving me

We arranged the terms of our campaign, trudging ami-
cablyinthesnow, which now, with the approach of morn-
ing, began to fall to purpose. I chose the name of Ra-
mornie, I imagine from its likeness to Komaine ; Row-
ley, from an irrisistiblo conversion of ideas, I dubbed
Gammon. His distress was laughable to witness : his own
choice of an unassuming nickname had been Claude Duval '
We settled our procedure at the various inns where we
should alight, rehearsed our little manners like a piece of
drill until It seemed impossible we should ever be taken
unprepared ; and in all these dispositions, you may be sure
the despatch-box was not forgotten. Who was to pick it
up, who was to set it down, who was to remain beside it,
who was o sleep with it-there was no contingenc;
omitted, all was gone into with the thoroughness of a
drill-sergeant on the one hand and a child with a new play,
thing on the other. ^ ^

;7 «^y. wouldn't it look queer if you and me was to come
to the post-house witli all this luggage ? " said Rowley.

^ I daresay, I replied. " But what else is to be done ? "

Well now, sir-you hear me," says Rowley. " I think

It would look more natural-like if you was to come to the

post-house alone, and with nothing in your 'ands-more

Ike a gentleman, you know. And you might say that your

1 r 0 1 1''''^' """^ """^^"^^ ''' ^'^^ "P ^he road' I
think I could manage, somehow, to make a shift with all

them, dratted thiuf^s— le'istw-iv if v^ / ■

, J . , V " 'e.i&tUci_yo It you was to ffive me a

and up with them at the start."
" And I wonld see you far enough before I allowed you to

226

ST. IVE8

try, Mr. Rowley !" I cried. "Why, you would bo quite
defeueeless ! A footpad that was an infant child could rob
you. And I shoidd probably come driving by to find you
in a ditch with your tiiroat cut. But there is somethinir
m your idea, for all that; and I pro])ose we put it in exe-
cution no farther forward than the next corner of a lane."

Accordingly, instead of continuing to aim for Aylesbury,
we headed by cross-roads for some i)oint to the northward
of it, whither I might assist Rowley with the l)aggage, and
where I might leave him to await my return in the post-
chaise.

It was snowing to purpose, the country all white, and
ourselves walking snowdrifts, when the first glimmer of
the morning showed us an inn upon the highway side.
Some distance otf, under the shelter of a corner of the
road and a clump of trees, T loaded Rowley with the whole
of our possessions, and watched him till he staggered in
safety into the doors of the Green Dragon, which was the
sign of the house. Thence I walked briskly into Ayles-
bury, rejoicing in my freedom and the causeless good
spirits that belong to a snowy morning; though, to 1)0
sure, long before I had arrived th ■ snow had again ceased
to fall, and the eaves of Aylesbury were smoking in the
level sun. There was an accumulation of gigs and chaises
in the yard, and a great bustle going forward in the coffee-
room and about the doors of the inn. At these evidences
of so much travel on the road I was seized with a misffiv-
ing lest it should be impossible to get horses and I should
be detained in the precarious neighbourhood of my cousin.
Hungry as I was, I made my way first of all to the post-
master, where he stood— a big, athletic, horsey- looking
man, blowing into a key in the corner of the yard.

On my making my modest request, he awoke from his
indifference into what seemed passion.

■i

and

I BKCOME TIIR OWNKR OF A CHAISE 227

" A po^-shiiy and oases ! " ho med. '• J)o I look as if I
'ud a po'-shuy and osses ? Daiim me, if I 'ave such a tliiu-
on tlie preni ses. I don't make 'osses and oluiises— I 'ire
'cm. Von luight be God Alinigl.ty !" said lie; and in-
stantly, as if ne had observed me for the first time, he
broke off, and lowered his voice into the confidential.
" Why, now that I see you are a gentleman," said ho " I'll
tell you what ! If you like to bui/, I have the article to fit
you. Second-'and shay by Lycett, of London. Latest
style ; good as new. Superior fittin's, net on the roof
baggage platform, pistol 'olstcr;^— the most com-])Iete and
the most gen-teel turn-out 1 ever see! 'i^he 'ole for
seventy-five pound ! It's as good as givin' her away ! "

"Do you propose I should trundle it myself, like a haw-
ker's barrow ?" said I. - Why, my good man, .f I have
to stop h an\ A-dy, I should prefer to buy a liouse and
garden !

" Como and look at her ! " he cried ; and. with the word,
links his arm in mine and carries m^ to the out-house
where the chaise was on view.

It was just the sort of chaise that I had dreamed of for
my purpose : eminently rich, inconspicuous, and genteel ;
for, though I thought the postmaster no great authority I
was bound to agree with him so far. The body was painted
a di.rk claret, and the wheels an invisible green. The lamp
and glasses were bright as silver; and the whole equipage
had an air of privacy and reserve that seemed to repel in-
quiry and disarm suspicion. With a servant like Rowley "
and a chaise like this, I felt that I could go from the Land's
Lnd to John o' Groat's House amid a population of bow-
mg ostlers. And I suppose I betrayed in my manner the
•-tCgree in vvhieh the r>argain tempted me.

"Come," cried the postmaster-- I'll make it seventy,
to oblige a friend ! " *^

228

ST. IVES

" The point is : the horses," said I.

" Well," said he, consulting his watch, " it's now gone the
'alf after eight. What time do you want her at the door? "

" Horses and all ? " said I.

" 'Osses and all ! " says he. *'One good turn deserves
another. You give me seventy pound for the shay, and
I'll 'oss it for you. I told you I didn't make 'osses ; but I
can make 'em to oblige a friend."

What would you have ? It was not the wisest thing in
the world to buy a chaise within a dozen miles of my
uncle's house ; but in this way I got my horses for the next
stage. And by any other, it appeared that I should have
to wait. Accordingly, I paid the money down — perhaps
twenty pounds too much, though it was certainly a well-
made and well-appointed vehicle — ordered it round in half
an hour, and proceeded to refresh myself with breakfast.

The table to which I sat down occupied the recess of a
bay-window, and commanded a view of the front of the
inn, where I continued to be amused by the successive de-
partures of travellers— the fussy and the offhand, the nig-
gardly and the lavish— all exhibiting their different char-
acters in that diagnostic moment of the farewell : some
escorted to the stirrup or the chaise door by tlie chamber-
lain, the chambermaids and the waiters almost in a body,
others moving off under a cloud, without human counte-
nance. In the course of this I became interested in one for
whom this ovation began to assume the proportions of a
triumph ; not only the under-servants, but the barmaid,
the landlady, and my friend the postmaster himself, crowd-
ing about the steps to speed his departure. I was aware,
at the same time, of a good deal of merriment, as though
the traveller were a man of a ready wit, and not too digni-
fied to air it in that society. I leaned forward with a
lively curiosity ; and the next moment I had blotted myself

I BPJCOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE

229

behind the teapot. The popiihir traveller had turned
to wave a farewell ; and behold ! he was no other than
my cousin Alain. It was a change of the sharpest from
the angry, pallid man I had seen at Amersham Place.
Ruddy to a fault, illuminated with vintages, crowned with
his curls like Bacchus, he now stood before me for an in-
stant, the perfect master of himself, smiling with airs of
conscious popularity and insufferable condescension. He
reminded me at once of a royal duke, of an actor turned a
little elderly, and of a blatant bagman who should have
been the illegitimate son of a gentleman. A moment after
he was gliding noiselessly on the road to London.

I breathed again. I recognised, with heartfelt grati-
tude, how lucky I had been to go in by the stable-yard
instead of the hostelry door, and what a fine occasion of
meeting my cousin I had lost by the purchase of the claret-
coloured chaise ! The next moment I remembered that
there was a waiter present. No doubt but he must have
observed me when I crouched behind the breakfast equi-
page ; no doubt but he must have commented on this un-
usual and undignified behaviour ; and it was essential that
I should do something to remove the impression.

*' Waiter ! " said I, " that was the nephew of Count Car-
well that just drove off, wasn't it ? "

"Yes, sir : Viscount Carwell we calls him," he replied.
" Ah, I thought as much," said I. " Well, well, damn
all these Frenchmen, say I ! "

"You may so indeed, sir," said the waiter. "They
ain't not to say in the same field with our 'ome-raised
gentry."

" Nasty tempers ? " I suggested.

"Beas'ly temper, sir, the Viscount 'ave," said the
waiter with feeling. "Why, no longer agone than this
morning, he was sitting breakfasting and readiL ' in his

230

ST. IVES

paper. I suppose, sir, he come on some pilitical informa-
tion, or it might be about 'orses, but he raps his 'and upon
the table sudden and calls for curagoa. It gave me quite
a turn, it did ; he did it that sudden and 'ard. Now, sir,
that may be manners in France, but hall I can say is, that
Tm not used to it."

" Reading the paper, was he ? " said I. " What paper,
eh ?"

** Here it is, sir," exclaimed the waiter. *' Seems like
as if he'd dropped it."

And picking it off the floor, he presented it to me.

I may say that I was quite prepared, that I already knew
what to expect ; but at sight of the cold print my heart
stopped beating. There it was : the fulfilment of Romaine's
apprehension was before me ; the paper was laid open at the
capture of Clausel. I felt as if I could take a little cura-
90a myself, but on second thoughts called for brandy. It
was badly wanted ; and suddenly I observed the waiter's
eye to sparkle, as it were, with some recognition; made
certain he had remarked the resemblance between me and
Alain ; and became aware — as by a revelation — of the fool's
part I had been playing. For I had now managed to put
my identification beyond a doubt, if Alain should choose to
make his inquiries at Aylesbury ; and, as if that were not
enough, I had added, at an expense of seventy pounds, a
clue by which he might follow me through the length and
breadth of England, in the shape of the claret-coloured
chaise ! That elegant equipage (which I began to regard
as little better than a claret-coloured ante-room to the
hangman's cart) coming presently to the door, I left my
breakfast in the middle and departed ; posting to the
north as diligently as my cousin Alain was posting to the
south, and putting my trust (such as it was^ in an o^josite
direction and equal speed.

CHAPTER XXII

CHARA.CTER AND ACQUIREMENTS OF MR. ROWLEY

I AM uot certain tliat I had ever really appreciated be-
fore that hour the extreme peril of the adventure on which
I was embarked. The sight of my cousin, the look of his
face— so handsome, so jovial at the first sight, and branded
with so much malignity as you saw it on the second— with
his hyperbolical curls in order, with liis neckcloth tied as
if for the conquests of love, setting forth (as I had no
doubt in the world he was doing) to clap the Bow Street
runners on my t/ail, and cover England witli handbills',
each dangerous as a loaded musket, convinced mo for the
first time that the affair was no less serious than death. I
believe it came to a near touch whether I sliould not turn
the horses' heads at the next stage and make directly for the
coast. But I was now in the position of a man who should
have thrown his gage into the den of lions ; or, better
still, like one who should have quarrelled overnight under
the influence of wine, and now, at daylight, in a cold win-
ter's morning, and humbly sober, must make good his
words. It is not that I thought any the less, or any the
less warmly, of Flora. But, as I smoked a grim segar that
morninj in a corner of the chaise, no doubt I considered,-
in the first place, that the letter post had been invented,
and admitted privately to myself, in the second, that it
would have been highly possible to write her on a piece of
paper, seal it, and send it skimming by the mail, instead of

-"ttmm-am III

232

ST. IVES

going personally into these egregious dangers and through
a country that I beheld crowded with gibbets and liow
Street officers. As for Sira and Cundlish, I doubt if they
crossed my mind.

At the Green Dragon Rowley was waiting on the door-
steps witli the luggage, and really was bursting with un-
jjalatable conversation.

" Who do you think we've 'ad 'ere, sir ? " he began breath-
lessly, as the chaise drove off. "Red Breasts''; and he
nodded his head i)ortentously.

"Red Breasts?"! repeated, for I stupidly did not un-
derstand at the moment an expression I had often heard.

" Ah ! " said he. " Red weskits. Runners. Bow Street
runners. Two on 'em, and one v/as Lavender himself ! I
hear the other say quite plain, 'Now, Mr. Lavender, if
you're ready.' They was l)reakfasting as nigh me as I am
to that post-boy. They're all right ; tliey ain't after us.
It's a forger ; and I didn't send them off on a false scent—
0 no ! I thought there was no use in having them over
our way ; so I give them ' very valuable information,' Mr.
Lavender said, and tipped me a tizzy for juyself ; and
they're off to Luton. They showed me the 'andcuffs, too
— the other one did — and he clicked the dratted things
on my wrist ; and I tell you, I believe I nearly went off in
a swound ! There's something so beastly in the feel of
them ! Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne," he added, with
one of his delicious changes from the character of the
confidential schoolboy into that of the trained, respectful
servant.

Well, I must not oe proud ! I cannot say I found the
imlrject of handcuffs to my fancy ; and it was with more
Hsperity than was needful that I reproved him for the slip
.ibout the name.

" Yes, Mr. Ramornie," says he, touching his hat.

-1^

" Beg-

CHARACTER OP MR. ROWLEY

2o6

Beg.

ging your pardon, Mr. Kamornie. But I've been very
piticular, sir, up to noiv ; and you may trust me to be very
piticular in the future. It were only a slip, sir."

" My good boy," said I, with the most imposing severity,
" there must be no slips. Be so good as to remember that
my life is at stake."

I did not embrace the occasion of telllr.g liim how many
I had made myself. It is my principle that an officer must
never be wrong. I have seen two divisions beating their
brains out for a fortnight against a worthless and quite im-
pregnable castle in a pass : I knew we were only doing it
for discipline, because the General had said so at first, and
had not yet found any way out of his own words ; and I
highly admired his force of character, and throughout
these operations thought my life exposed in a very good
cause. AVith fools and children, which included Kowley,
the necessity was even greater. I proposed to myself to be
infallible ; and even when he expressed some wonder at the
purchase of the claret-coloured cL vise, I put him promptly
in his place. In our situation, I told him, everything had
to be sacrificed to appearances ; doubtless, in a hired chaise!
we should have had more freedom, but look at the dignity,
I was so positive, that I had sometimes almost convinced
myself. Not for long, you may be certain ! This detest-
able conveyance always appeared to me to be laden with
Bow Street officers, and to have a placard upon the back
of it publishing my name and crimes. If I had paid seventy
pounds to get the thing, I should not have stuck at seven
hundred to be safely rid of it.

And if the chaise was a danger, what an anxiety was the
despatch-box and its golden cargo ! I had never had a
care but to draw my pay and spend it ; I had lived happily
in the regimeut, as in my father's house, fed by the great
Emperor's commissariat as by ubiquitous doves of Elijah—

234

ST. IVES

Pl^'

i !

or, my faith! if anything went wrong with the commis-
sariat, helping myself with the best grace in the world from
the next peasant ! i^nd now I began to feel at the same
time the burthen of riches and the fear of destitution.
There were ten thousand pounds in the despatch-box, but I
reckoned in French money, and had two hundred and fifty
thousand agonies; I kept it under my hand ail day, I
dreamed of it at night. In the inns, I was afraid to go to
dinner and afraid to go to sleep. When I walked up a hill,
I durst not leave the doors of the claret-coloured chaise.
Sometimes I would cliange the disposition of the funds :
there were days when I carried as much as five or six thou-
sand pounds on my own jDerson, and only the residue contin-
ued to voyage in the treasure chest— days when I bulked all
over like my cousin, crackled to a touch with bank paper,
and had my pockets weighed to bursting point with sov-
ereigns. And there were other days when I wearied of the
thing— or grew ashamed of it— and put all the money back
where it had come from : there let it take its chance, like
better people ! In short, I set Rowley a poor example of
consistency, and in philosophy, none at all.

Little he cared ! All was one to him so lf-<Tas he was
amused, and I never knew any one amused more easily.
He was thrillingly interested in life, travel, and his own
melodramatic position. All day he would bo looking from
the chaise windows with ebullitions of gratified curiosity,
that were sometimes justified and sometimes not, and that
(taken altogether) it occasionally wearied me to be obliged
to share. I can look at horses, and I can look at trees
too, although not fond of it. But why should I look at a
lame horse, or a tree that was like the letter Y ? What
. exhilaration could I feel in viewing a cottage that was the
same colour as " the second from the miller's " in some
place where I had never been and of which I had not

CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY

235

previously heard ? I am ashamed to eomphiin, hut there
were moments when my juvenile and confidential friend
weighed heavy on my hands, llis cackle was iudoed al-
most continuous, but it was never unamiable. He showed
an amiable curiosity when he was asking questions ; an
ainial)le guilelessness when he was conferring information.
Arul both he did largely. I am in a position to write the
biographies of Mr. h'owley, Mr. Rowley's fathorand mother,
his Aunt Eliza, and the miller's dog ; and nothing but pity
for the reader, and some misgivings as to the law of copy-
right, prevail on me to withhold them.

A general design to mould himself upon my example
became early apparent, and I had not the heart to check
it. lie began to mimic my carriage; he acquired, with
servile accuracy, a little manner I had of shrugging the
shoulders ; and 1 may say it was by observing it in him
that 1 first discovered it in myself. One day it came out
by chance that 1 was of the Catholic religion, lie became
plunged in thought, at which I was gently glad. Then
suddenly, —

*' Odd-rabbit it ! I'll be Catholic too ! " he bvoke out.
" You must teach me it, Mr. Anne — 1 mean, Ramornie.^*
' I dissuaded him : alleging that he would find me A'ery
imperfectly informed as to the grounds and doctrines of
the Church, and that, after all, in the matter of religions,
it was a very poor idea to change. " Of course, my Church
is the best," said I ; "'but that is not the reason why I
belong to it : 1 belong to it because it was the faith of my,
house. I wish to take my chances with my own people,
and so should you. If it is a question of going to hell, go
to hell like t gentleman with your ancestors."

" Well, it wasn't that," he admitted. *' I don't know
that I was exactly thinking of hell. Then there's the in-
quisition, too. That's rather a cawker, you know."

236

ST. IVES

ill

111

!ii

fy,r "^""l / V """'5 ^'^^^^^ ^°'" '^^'•^ thinking of anything in

Jl%'rf'^. himself by phxying for awhile on a cheap
flageolet, which was one of his diversions, and to which 1
owed many intervals of" peace. When he first produced it,
m the joints, from his pocket, he had the dnplicity to ask
me ,f I played npon it. I answered, no ; and he put the
ns n.ment aw.j^ with a sigh and the remark that he had
thought I might. For some while he resisted the un-

tc ling about his pocket, even his interest in the landscape
and m sporadic anecdote entirely lost. Presently the pipe
WHS m his hands again; he fitted, unfitted, refitted/aid
played upon it in dumb show for some time.

"I play it myself a little " says he.

" Do you ? " said I, and yawned.

And then he broke down.

'' Mr. Kamornie, if you please, would it disturb you, sir

Jion7n . ^\7 " '!^""' ••" ^'' ^^^^•^^^- ^"^^ frL thai
hour, the tootling of the flageolet cheered our way

He was_ particularly keen on the details of battles, single
combats, incidents of scouting parties, and the like. These
he would make haste to cap with some of the exploits of
Wallace, the only hero with whom he had the least ac-
quaintance. His enthusiasm was genuine and pretty.
When he learned we were going to Scotland, "Well, then "
he broke out, - I'll see where Wallace lived ! " And pres-
ently after, he fell to moralising. " It's a strange tMng
sir, he egan, -that I seem somehow to have always the
wrong sow by the ear. I'm English after all, and I glory

it. My eye ! don't I, though ! Let

-p 1 • " " "' """"ft" • -LiCL some of your

Frenchiescome over here to invade, and you'll see whether
01 not ! 0, yes, I'm English to the backbone, I am. And

CHARACTER OP MR. ROWLEY

237

yet look at me ! I got hold of this 'ere William Wallace
and took to him right off ; I never heard of such a man
before ! And tiien you came along, and I took to you.
And both tlie two of you were my born enemies ! I— I beg
your pardon, .A[r. Ramornie, but would you mind it very
much if you didn't go for to do anything against England "
—he brought the word out suddenly, like something hot—
*' when I was along of you ?"
I was more affected than I can tell.
"Rowley,"! said, "you need have no fear. By how
much I love my own honour, by so much I will take care
to protect yours. We are but fraternising at the outposts,
as soldiers do. When the bugle calls, my boy, we must
face each other, one for England, one for France, and may
(lod defend the right ! "

So I spoke at the moment ; but for all my brave airs, the
boy had wounded me in a vital quarter. His words con-
tniued to ring in my hearing. There was no remission all
day of my remorseful thoughts ; and that night (which we
lay at Lichfield, I believe) there was no sleep for me in my
bed. I put out the candle and lay down with a good reso-
lution ; and in a moment, all was light about me like a
theatre, and I saw myself upon the stage of it, playing ig-
noble parts. I remembered France and my Emperor, now
depending on the arbitrament of war, bent down, fighting
on their knees and with their teeth against so many and
such various assailants. And I burned with shame to be
here 111 England, cherishing an English fortune, pursuing .
an English mistress, and not there, to handle a musket in
my native fields, and to manure them with my body if I
fell. I remembered that I belonged to France. All my
fathers had fought for her, and some had died : the voicp
m my throat, the sight of my eyes, the tears that now
sprang there, the whole man of me, was fashioned of

233

ST. IVES

French earth and boru of a French mother; I had been
tended and caressed by a succession of tlio daughters of
France, the fairest, the most ill-starred ; and I had fouglit
and conquered slioiildor to sliuulder with lier sons. A sol-
dier, a noble, of tiie proudest and bravest race in Euroiie,
it had been left to the prattle of a hobbledehoy lackey in
an English chaise to recall mo to the tnjnsciousness of
duty.

When I saw how it was, I did not lose time in indeci-
sion. The old classical conflict of love and honour beino-
once fairly before me, it did not cost me a thought. I was
a Saint- Yves de Keroual ; and I decided to strike off on
the morrow for Wakelield and Burchell Fenn, and embark,
as soon as it sliould be morally possible, for the succour of
my down-trodden fatherland and my beleaguered Em-
peror. Pursuant on this resolve, I leaped from bed, made
a light, and as the watchman was crying half-past two in
the dark streets of Lichfield, sat down to pen a letter of
farewell to Flora. And then — whether it was the sudden
chill of the night, whether it came by association of ideas
from the remembrance of Swanston Cottage I know not,
but there appeared before me— to the barking of sheep-
dogs— a couple of snuffy and shainbling figures, each
wrapped in a plaid, each armed with a rude staff ; and I
was immediately bowed down to have forgotten them so
long, and of late to have thought of them so cavalierly.

Sure enough there was my errand ! As a private person
I was neither French nor English ; I was something else
first : a loyal gentleman, an honest man. Sim and Oand-
lish must not be left to pay the penalty of my unfortunate
blow. They held my honour tacitly pledged to succour
them ; and it is a sort of stoical refinement entirely forei<'-n
to my nature to set the political obligation above the per-
sonal and private. If France fell in the interval for the

CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY

230

'£3

I was

■■;«

lack of Anne de Saint- Yves, fall she must ! But I was both
surprised an<l humiliated to have had so plain a duty bound
upon me for so long-and for so long to have neglected and
forgotten it. I think any bravr man will understand me
when I say that I went to bed and to sleep with a con-
science very much relieved, and woke again in the morn-
mg with a liglit heart. The very danger of the enterprise
reassured me : to save Sim and Candlish (suppose the worst
to come to the worst) it would be necessary for me to de-
clare myself in a court of justice, with consequences which
I did not dare to dwell upon ; it nould never be said that I
had chosen the cheap and the ea/y,— only that in a very
perplexing competition of duties I had risked my life for
the most immediate.

We resumed the journey with more diligence : thence-
forward posted day and night; did not hah beyond what
was necessary for meals ; and the postilions were excited
by gratuities, after the habit of my cousin Alain. For
twopence I could have gone further and taken four horses •
so extreme was my haste, running as I was before the ter-
rors of an awakened conscience. But I feared to bo con-
spicuous. Even as it was, we attracted only too much
attention, with our pair and that white elephant, the sev-
enty-pounds-worth of claret-coloured chaise.

Meanwhile, I was ashamed to look Rowley in the face
Ihe young shaver had contrived to put me wholly in the
wrong ; ho had cost me a night's rest and a severe and
healthful humiliation ; and I was grateful and embarrassed .
in his society. This would never do ; it was contrary to
all my Ideas of discipline : if the officer has to blush before
the private, or the master before the servant, nothing is
left to hope for but discharge or death. T hit npon th«
idea of teaching him French ; and accordingly, from Lich-
held, I became the distracted master, and he the scholar—

240

ST. IVES

6 -'

how shall I say ? indefatigublo, but nninspired. His in-
terest never flagged. He would liear the same word twenty
times with profound refreshment, mispronounce it in sev-
era! different ways, and forget it again with magical celer-
ity. Say. It happened to be sfirrup. - No, I don't seem
to remember that word, Mr. Anne," he would say : - it
don't seem to stick to me, that word don't." And then
when I had told it him again, '* Etr^r,-! " he would cry.'
'• To be sure ! I had it on the tip of my tongue. Etericr ' "
(going wrong already, as if by a fatal instinct). " What
will I remember it by, now ? Why, iutcrior, to be sure !
1 11 remember it by its being something tliat ain't in the
interior of a horse." And when next I had occasion to
ask him the French for stirn p, it was a toss-up whether
iie had forgotten all about it. or gave me e.i:terior for an
answer. He was never a hair discouraged. He seemed to
consider that he was covering the ground at a normal rate.
He came up smiling, day after day. " Now, sir, shall we
do our French? " he would say ; and I would put ques-
tions, and elicit copious commentary and explanation, but
never the shadow of an answer. My hands fell to my sides •
1 could have wept to hear him. When I reflected that lie
had as yet learned nothing, and what a vast deal more
there was for him to learn, the period of these lessons
seemed to unroll before me vast as eternity, and I saw my-
self a teacher of a hundred, and Rowley a pupil of ninety,
still hammering on the rudiments ! The wretched boy
1 should say, was quite unspoiled by the inevitable famili!
arities of the journey. He turned out at each stage the
pink of serving-lads, deft, civil, prompt, attentive, touch-
nig his hat like an automaton, raising the status of Mr
Rainornie in the eyes of all the inn by his smiling service,
and seeming capable of anything in the world but the um
thing I had chosen— learning French !

OHAPTER XXIIT

THE DVliNTU* -i; OP THE RUNAWAY COUPLE

The countr h.;;i ior some time back been cbangir.g in
character, iiy .i thousand indications I conld judge that 1
was again drawing near to Scotland. I saw it written in
the face of the hills, in the growth of the trees, and in the
glint of the waterbrooks that kept the high road company.
It might have occurred to me, also, that I was, at the same
time, approaching a place of some fame in Britain— Gretna
Green. Over the same leagues of road— which Rowley
and I now traversed in the claret-coloured chaise, to the
note of the flageolet and the French lesson— how many
pairs of lovers had gone bowling northward to the music
of sixteen scampering horseshoes; and how many irate
persons, parents, uncles, guardians, evicted rivals, had
come tearing after, clapping tlu frequent red face to the
chaise-window, lavishly shedding their gold about the post-
houses, sedulou:-ly loading and re-loading, as they went,
their avenging pistols ! But I doubt if I had thought of
it at all, before a wayside hazard swept me into the thick of
an adventure of this nature; and I found myself playing
providence with other people's lives, to my own admiration
at the moment— and subsequently to my own brief but pas-
sionate regret.

At rather an ugly corner of an up-hill reach, I came on
the wreck of a chaise lying on one side in the ditch, a man
and a woman in animated discourse in the middle of the
16 341

242

\l4 *1

ST. IVES

road and the two postilions, each with his pair of h.r..
looknjg on and laughing from the saddle ^ ^ ^''''''
Morning breezes ! here's a smash ! " cried Rowl.v
poeketrng h.s flageolet in the middle of the r" .f Z^^

^ I was perhaps more conscious of the moral Rm^.h ^^.

chaises; for as plain as the sun at morning, there was .
screw loose in this runaway match. It isltlwavs a b.d
ign when the lower classes laugh : their tasteTrhumo r
IS both poor and sinister; and for a min mn. ?,
posts with four horses, ..^.^^..^m, ^^ ;™"2 ad

oeivable, to have come down so far as to be laughed at hv

I hlvT.vi r,, " '°°'' '"*■"> gentleman.

1 have said they were man and woman I «1,„„M i.
sa.d man and child. She was oertainTy^ot Lthan "'

:rr;nT&i-tirsSzrbrrr^^^^^
e^ror;hX?e---,e^t3'«T' ?

ventuie upon life^ , the company of a half-bred hawbuck •
and she was already not only resrettin.. if h„t " . '

her regret with point and pm'X ^ "' """ ''P^^'^^S

air^oVbl^!:"; *'"' ''^"' P"'^"' ™"" «•"' "nmistakable
air of being interrupted in a scene. I uncovered t„7t,!
lad", and placed my services at their dispral. '

It was the man who answered. "There'. n„ „.. •
shamming, sir," said he. "This ladv and i 1 a,e rn?
aw.y, and her father's after «s : road to" Gretna! ^ Z

ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 243

here have these nincompoops spilt us in the ditch and
smashed the chaise ! "

''Very provoking," said I.

*' I don't know when I've been so provoked ! " cried he,
with a glance down the road of mortal terror.

"The father is no doubt very much incensed ?" I pur-
sued, civilly.

" 0 God ! " cried the hawbuck. *' In short, you see, we
must get out of this. And I'll tell you what — it may seem
cool, but necessity has no law — if you would lend us your
chaise to the next post-house, it would be the very thing,
sir."

" I confess it seems cool," I replied.

" AVhat's that you say, sir ?" he snapped.

" I was agreeing with you," said I. " Yes, it does seem
cool ; and what is more to the point, it seems unnecessary.
This thing can be arranged in a more satisfactory manner
otherwise, I think. You can doubtless ride ? "

This opened a door on the matter of their previous dis-
pute, and the fellow appeared life-sized in his true colours.
" That's what I've been telling her : that, damn her ! she
must ride !" he broke out. "And if the gentleman's of
the same mind, why, damme, you shall !"
" As lie said so, he made a snatch at her wrist, which she
evaded with horror.

I stepped between them.

" No, sir," said I, "the lady shall not."

He turned on me raging. " And who are you to inter,
fere ? " he roared.

" There is here no question of who I am," I replied. " I
may be the devil or the Archbishop of Canterbury for what
you know, or need know. The point is that I can help
you — it appears that nobody else can ; and I will tell you
how I propose to do it. I will give the lady a seat in my

244

ST. IVES

1 )

chaise, if jrou will return the compliment bv .1T„„-
servant to ride one of your horses " ^ "^ "^

I thought he would have sprung at my throat.
..ereK:a-;:;--i^/eforey„u:to

-rth'^rSet^t-uJ:,-' -'-■-— ,00.

he:aidrwX.f;i'l ^U""^ '- ^-^ ■»-" o".«ed to you,-

oha'ifrH'oTle7g'ri;,;':! -""■'f '^"Wrdinto the
behind us ■ the'two iZf iT '"'' ° °»'' '='"^'"1 ««' ^oor
and laughedtud^r '^r™ Ti:! r"'"^'^ °"^'"^
urged his horses at once i to t rlltii * 7 T ''°'''''™
I was supposed bv all t„ I ! '« *''°'- " ™' P'"™

ravished'tltid^ ^"« tt^rer" "^^^ ""^"'"^ ""'' """

^r rstrSh::iui;t:^^^ ■•^- , «■■»

on her lap in her black lace nSs ' ''" "'"^ '''"»''
Madam " J began.

wiry^l^itiZf r-""'- "'*« ■- ™'-: "0.

wil'^rsTe:;:;!'':*!^'' "^ «^""^"'™ """''^'

wish I could teuL TJ, -nziocence in distress ? I

fa«>er, I thint 'If 'us' ;. Ztt '7"^" '," ^■»-
a smile. " But I will t.l '' , ™"''nu«'. with

which ..ght t:'do :"ei a rto's™ t;;:?,t"5 "'^■^""

rest n mv society I om „ i J ' ''"'" '""'■' at

for I am "fe n ed to 'i?m "■• ''T' '"^ " "^ "'^^^'f-
I am a true love, There ' "'°f "' '" *^"S"''l'-"'='t

obey; she is no^; goTrt;! ^sl': iJ^itifuT'-rh''^"^'
here, she would take you to her arms Zl^^J.f^^:;'^
aent me-.hat she has sa,d to me, < Go, be hc^knightl' "

ADVENTURE OF TJIE RUNAWAY COUPLE 245

"0, I know she must bo sweet, I know she must be
worthy of you ! " cried the lit Je lady. - She would never
forget female deoorum-aor make the terrible erratum
1 ve done !

And at this she lif od up her voice and wept
This did not forward matters : it was in vain that I
begged her to be more composed and to tell me a plain
consecutive tale of her misadventures; but slie continued
instead to pour forth the most extraordinary mixture of
the correct school miss and the poor untutored little piece
of womanhood in a false j)osition-of engrafted pedantry
and incoherent nature.

"I am certain it must have been judicial blindness," she
sobbed. - I can^t think how J didn't see it, but I didn't •
anu he isn't, is lie ? And then a curtain rose .
O, what a moment was that ! But I knew at once that
yon were; you had but to appear from your carriage, and
1 knew it. 0, she must be a fortunate young lady ' And
1 have no fear with yon, none-a perfect confidence."
" Madam," said I, " a gentleman."

u r ^A^f^ "^^f ^ ^ mean-a gentleman," she exclaimed.
And he-and that-he isn't. 0, how shall I dare meet
tatJier ! And disclosing to me her tear-stained face, and
opening her arms with a tragic gesture : " And I am quite
disgraced before all the young ladies, my school compan-
ions!" she added. ^

'' 0, not so bad as that ! " I cried. -Come, come, you

exaggerate my dear Miss ? Excuse me if I am too

lamiliar : I have not yet heard your name.'*

-My name is Dorothy Greensleeves, sir : why should I
conceal it ? I fear it will only serve to point an adage to
future generations, and I had meant so differently ' There
was no young female in the county more emulous to be
thought well of than I. And what a fall was there ! 0

« ■:

ill

246

ST. IVES

dear me, what a wicked, piggish donkey of a girl I have
made of myself, to be sure ! And there is no hope ' O
Ml " ^ ■ *

And at that she paused and asked my name.

^ am not writing my eulogium for the Academy ; I will
admit it was unpardonably imbecile, but I told it her. If
you had been there— and seen her, ravishingly pretty and
httle, a baby in years and mind— and heard her talking
like a book, with so much of schoolroom propriety in her
manner, with such an innooput despair in the matter— you
would probably have tok .^i- yours. She repeated it after
me.

" I shall pray for you all my life," she said. "Every
night, when I retire to re3t, the last thing I shall do is to
remember you by name."

Presentl) I succeeded in winning from her her tale
which was much what I had anticipated : a tale of a
schooihouse, a walled garden, a fruit-tree that concealed a
bench, an impudent raff posturing in church, an exchange
of flowers and vows over the garden wall, a silly schoolmate
for a confidante, a chaise and four, and the most immedi-
ate and perfect disenchantment on the part of the little
lady " And there is nothing to be done ! " she wailed in
conclusion. " My error is irretrievable, I am quite forced
to that conclusion. 0, Monsieur de Saint-Yves ' Who
would have thought that I could have been such a blind
wicked donkey ! " '

I should have said before-only that I really do not
know when it came in— that we had been overtaken by the
two post-boys, Rowley and Mr. Bellamy, which was the
hawbuck s name, bestriding the four post-horses ; and that
these formed a sort of cavalry escort, riding now before
now behind the chaise, and BolLuny occadoimlly posturing
at the window and obliging us with some of his conversa-

ADVENTURE OF THE RUNA v^AY COUPLE 247

tion He was so ill received that I declare I was tempted

to pity him remembering from what a height he had

fallen and how few hours ago it was since the lady had

herself fled to his arms, all blushes and ardour. WeH

these gi-eat strokes of fortune usually befall the unworthy;

and Bellamy was now the legitimate object of my com!

miseration and the ridicule of his own post-boys t

"Miss Dorothy," said I, "you wish to be ' delivered
from this man ?" uenvtieu

leiice^'' '^ '* ''''''' ^'''''^^'' ■ " '^'^ '''"'^'^* " ^"^- "^*^ ^y ^'^0-
thin^^'i! i^f ^'''w ''^' '"'''"''" ^ ''^'^''^- " The simplest

Wi'ArT'u'';'/"'^' "^" ^°* «^^^ dream it!
W ith all his faults, I know he is not fhat."

. '' "^"^ri' ^'''' "' ^^'' ™''^ "' *^'^^ aflfair-on the wrong
side of the law, call it what you please," said I ; and with
that, our four horsemen having for the moment headed us by
a considerable interval, I hailed my post-boy and inquired
who was the nearest magistrate and where he lived. Arch-
deacon Clitheroe, he told me, a prodigious dignitary, and
one who lived but a lane or two back, and at the distance
of on y a mile or two out of the direct roa.l. I showed
him the king's medallion.

" Take the lady there, and at full gallop," I cried
- Kight sir ! Mind yourself," says the postilion. '
And before I could have thought it possible, he had
turned the carnage to tlie right-about and we were gallop-
ing south. gaiiup

Our outriders were quick to remark and imitate the
mancBuvre, and came flying after us with a vast deal of
indiscriminate sliouting ; so that the fine, sober picture of
a carnage and escort, that we had presented but a moment

:' l'

248

ST. IVES

back, was tranaformed in the twinklijig of tm ey,; into tha

image of a noisy fox-chase. The two postilions and rny

own saucy rogue were, of course, disinterested actors in

the comedy ; t)iey rodo /or the mere sport, keeping in a

body, their mouths full of laughter, wavLig their lats aa

they came on, and cryiri^ (u„ the fancy struck them)

•'Tally-ho!" '' Stop thief !" 'A highwayman! A liigh-

wayman ! " It was otherguess -voi-k with Bellamy. Tiiat

gentleman no sooner observed our change of direction than

he turned his horse with so much violence that the poor

:«ii!nul was almost cast upon its side, and launched her in

in) mediate and desperate pursuit. As he approached I

iiow that his face was deadly whiti^ and that he carried a

drawn pistol in his hand. I turneO at once to the poor

little bride that was to have been, and now was not to be ;

she, upon her side, deserting the other window, turned as

if to meet me.

"0, 0, don't let him kill me ! " she screamed.

" Never fear," I replied.

Her face was distorted with terror. Her hands took hold
upon me with the instinctive clutch of an infant. The
chaise gave a flying lurch, which took the feet from under
me and tumbled us anyhow upon the seat. And almost in
the same moment the head of Bellamy appeared in the
window which Missy had left free for him.

Conceive the situation ! The little lady and I were fall,
ing— or had just fallen— backward on the seat, and offered
to the eye a somewhat ambiguous picture. The chaise
was speeding at a furious pace, and with the most violent
leaps and lurches, along the highway. Into this bounding
receptacle Bellamy interjected his : r d, his pistol arm,
and his pistol ; and since his own he -as travelling still
fastc^. ban the chaise, he mus^ 'itb. xw all of them again
in tl... .^side of the fraction of >, miaute. He did so, but

)'':■ into the
[18 and Any
i actors in
Beping in a
eir lats m
uck them)

! A liigh-
my. Tliat
jction than
t the poor
heel her in
)roached I
i carried a
) the poor
not to be ;

turned as

took hold
ant. The
;'om under

almost in
ed in the

were fall-
nd offered
'he chaise
st violent
bounding
stol arm,
jlling still
lem again
id so, but

ADVENTURE OP THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 249

he left the charge of the pistol behind him— whether by
design or accident I sliall never know, and 1 daresay he
has forgotten ! Probably he had only meant to threaten,
in hopes of causing us to arrest our flight. In the same
moment came the explosion and a pitiful cry from Missy ;
and my gentleman, making certain he had struck her,
went down the road pursued by the furies, turned at the
first corner, took a flying leap over the thorn hedge, and
disappeared across country in the least possible time.

Rowley was ready and eager to pursue ; but I withheld
him, thinking we were excellently quit of Mr. Bellamy, at
no more cost than a scratch on the forearm and a bullet-
hole in the left-hand claret-coloured panel. And accord-
ingly, but now at a more decent pace, we proceeded on our
Avay to Archdeacon Clitheroe's. Missy's gratitude and ad-
miration were aroused to a high pitch by this dramatic
scene, and what she was pleased to call my wound. She
must dress it for mo with her handkerchief, a service
wliich she rendered me even with tears. I could well have
spared them, not loving on the whole to be made ridiculous,
and the injury being in the nature of a cat's scratch. In-
deed, I would have suggested for her kind care rather the
cure of my coat-sleeve, which had suffered worse in the
encounter; but I was too wise to risk the anti-climax.
That she had been rescued by a hero, that the hero should
have been wounded in the affray, and his wound bandaged
with her handkerchief (which it could not even bloody),
ministered incredibly to the recovery of her self-respect ;
and I could hear her relate the incident to " the young •
ladies, my school-companions," in the most approved man-
ner of Mrs. Radcliffe ! To have insisted on the torn coat-
sleeve would have been unmannerly, if not inhuman.

Presently tlio residence of the archdeacon began to heave
in sight. A chaise and four smoking horses stood by the

250

ST. IVES

Steps and made way for us on our approach ; and even as
we alighted there appeared from the interior of the house
a tall ecclesiastic, and beside him a little, headstrong
ruddy man, m a towering passion and brandishing over
his head a roll of paper. At sight of him Miss Dorothy
flung herself on her knees with the most moving adjura-
tions calling him fatlier, assuring him she was wholly
cured and entirely repentant of her disobedience, and en-
treating forgiveness ; and I soon saw that she need fear no
great severity from Mr. Greensleoves, who showed himself
extraordinarily fond, loud, greedy of caresses and prodigal

To give myself a countenance, as well as to have all
ready for the road when I should find occasion, I turned
to quit scores with Bellamy's two postilions. They had
not tlie least claim on me, but one of which they were
quite ignorant-tliat I was a fugitive. It is the worst
feature of that false position that every gratuity becomes a
case of conscience. You must not leave behind vou any
one discontented nor any one grateful. But the wliole
business had been such a - hurrah-boys" from the begin-
ning, and had gone off in the fifth act so like a melodrama,
in explosions reconciliations, and tlie rape of a post-horse,
that It was plainly impossible to keep it covered. It was
plain It would have to be talked over in all the inn-kitchens
for thirty miles about, and likely for six months to come.
It only remained for me, therefore, to settle on that
gratuity which should be least conspicuous~so large that
nobody could grumble, so small that nobody would be
tempted to boast. My decision was liastily and not wisely
taken. The one fellow spat on his tip (so he called it) for
luck ; the other, developing a sudden streak of piety,
prayed God bless me with fervour. It seemed a demon!
stration was brewing, and I determined to be off at once

■4

nd even as
the house
eadstrong,
ihing over
s Dorothy
ig adjura-
as wholly
3, and en-
ed fear no
'd himself
I prodigal

have all
I turned
rhey had
they wei'e
lie worst
)ecomcs a
you any
lie whole
lie begin-
lodrama,
•st-horse,
It was
kitchens
io come,
on that
rge that
'ould be
)t wisely
d it) for
f piety,
demon-
[it ouce.

ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 251

Bidding my own post-boy and Rowley be in readiness for
an immediate start, I reascended the terrace and presented
myself, hat in hand, before Mr. Grcensleeves and the arch-
deacon.

'' You will excuse me, I trust," said I. " I think shame
to interrupt tliis agreeable scene of family effusion, which
I have been privileged in some small degree to bring
about."

And at these words the storm broke.

" Small degree ! small degree, sir ! " cries the father ;
" that shall not pass, Mr. St. Eaves ! If I've got my
darling back, and none the worse for that vagabone rascal,
I know whom I have to thank. Shake hands with me—
up to the elbows, sir ! A Frenchman you may ,'. e, but
you're one of the right breed, by God ! And, by Gnd,
sir, you may have anything you care to ask of me, do vu
to Dolly's hand, by God ! "

All this he roared out in a voice surprisingly powerful
from so small a person. Every word was thus audible to
the servants, who had followed them out of the house and
now congregated about us on the terrace, as well as to
Rowley and the five postilions on the gravel sweep below.
The sentiments expressed were popular ; some ass, whom
the devil moved to be my enemy, proposed three r^bpors,
and they were given with a will. To hear my o^\ ^\:iii,e
res(Jundingamid acclamations in the hills of Westmoreland
was flattering, perhaps ; but it was inconvenient at a mo-
ment when (as I was morally persuaded) police handbills
were already speeding after me at the rate of a hundred
miles a day.

:^r was that the end of it. The archdeacon must pre-
sent his compliments, and press upon me some of his
West India sherry, and I was carried into a vastly fine
library, where I was presented to his lady wife. While

ikm

252

ST. IVES

we were at sherry in tiie library, ale was handed ronnd
upon the terrace. Speeclies were made, hands were shak-
en, Missy (at her hO. ' est) kissed me farewell, and
the whole party roaccoinpanied me to tlie terrace, where
tliey stood waving hats and handkerchiefs, and crying fare-
wells to all the echoes of the mountains until the chaise
had disappeared.

The echoes of the mountains were engaged in saying to
me privately : - You fool, you have done it now ! "

" They do seem to have got 'old of your name, Mr
Anne, ' said Kowley. - It weren't my fault this time."

"It was one of those accidents that can never be fore-
seen," said I, aifectin^ a dignity that I was far from feel-
"ig. " Some on^ recognised me."

"Which on 'em, Mr. Anne ?" said the rascal.

"That is a senseless question; it can make no differ-
ence who it was," I returned.

"No, nor that it can't !" cried Rowley. "I say Mr
Anne sir, it's wh.t you would call a jolly mess, ain't it ?
looks like 'clean bowled out in the middle stump/ don't
It i

"I fail to nnderstaial you, Rowley."
"Well, what I mean is, what are we to do about this
one ? pointing to the postilion in front of us, as he al-
ternately hia and reveale^l his patched breeches to the trot
of his horse. " He see you gel in this morning under Mr
Kamornie-I was very i,: euLar to Mr. Mamonne you, if
you remember, sir- nd he see you get in again under Mr.
Saint Eaves, and - ,te r's he going to see you get out •
under ? that s wh. .von. s me, sir. It don't seem to me
like as if the position was what you call .uatetegic ! "

''ParrrbJeu! will you let me be !" I crieu,' <'l have
to think ; you cannot imagine how your constant idiotic
prattle annoys me."

led ronnd
i^ere shak-
iwell, and
ce, where
ying fare-
he chaise

saying to

ime, Mr.
time."
r be foro-
rom feel-

10 difTer-

say, Mr.
lin't it ?
p/ don't

out this
18 he al-
the trot
der Mr.
you, if
der Mr.
fret out
u to me

I have
idiotic

ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 263

"Beg pardon, Mr. Anne," said he; and the next mo-
ment, " You wouldn't like for us to do our French now
Avould you, Mr. Anne ? " '

" Certainly not," said I. <' Play upon your flageolet."

The which he did, with what seemed to me to be irony.

Conscience doth make cowards of us all ! I was so
downcast by my pitiful mismanagement of the morning's
business, that 1 slirank from the eye of my own hired in-
fant, and read offensive meanings into his idle tootling.

I took off my coat, and set to mending it, soldier-fash-
ion, with a needle and thread. There is nothing more
conducive to thought, above all in arduous circumstances ;
and as I sewed, I gradually gained a clearness upon my
affairs. I must be done with the claret-coloured chaise at
once. It should be sold at the next stage for what it would
bring. Rowley and I must take back to the road on our
four feet, and after a decent interval of trudging, get
places on some coach for Edinburgh again under' n'ew
names ! So much trouble and toil, so much extra risk
and expense and loss of time, and all for a slip of the
tongue to a little lady in blue 1

'■^} t

il Hi

CHAPTER XXIV

THE INN-KEEPER OF KIHKBY-LONSDALE

I HAD liitherto conceived and partly carried out an ideal
that was dear to my lieart. Kowley and I descended hum
our claret-coloured chaise, a couple of correctly dressed,
brisk, bright-eyed young fellows, like a j)air of ari.^ocratic
mice ; attending singly to our own affairs, communicating
solely with each other, and that with tiie niceties and civ-
ilities of drill. We would pass through the little crowd
before the door with high-bred preoccupation, inoffensively
haughty, after the best English pattern ; and disappear
within, followed by the envy and admiration of the by-
standers, a model master and servant, i)oint-device in every
part. It was a heavy thought to me, as we drew up before
the inn at Kirkby-Lonsdale, that this scene was now to be
enacted for the last time. Alas ! and had I known it, it
was to go off with so inferior a grace !

I had been injudiciously liberal to the post-boys of the
chaise and four. My own post-boy, he of the patched
breeches, now stood before me, liis eyes glittering with
greed, his hand advanced. It was plain he anticipated
something extraordinary by way of a pourhoire ; and con-
sidering the marches and counter-marches by which I had
extended the stage, the military character of our affairs
with Mr. Bellamy, and the bad example I had set before
him at the archdeacon's, something exceptional was cer-
tainly to be done. But these ne always nice questions, to

254

THE INN-KEEPER OF KIKKI3Y-L0N.SDALE 255

a foreigner above all ; a shade too little will suggest nig-
gurdliness, a shilling too much smells of hush-money.
Fresh from the scene at the archdeacon's, and flushed by
the idea that 1 was now nearly done with the rcsponsibil-
ities of the claret-coloured chaise, I put into his hands
five guineas ; and the amount served only to waken his
cupiility.

" 0, come, sir, you ain't going to fob me off with this ?
Why, I seen fire at your side !" he cried.

It would never do to give him more ; I felt I should
become the fable of Kirkby-Lonsdale if I did ; and I looked
him in the face, sternly but still smiling, and addressed
him with a voice of uncon^jromising firmness.

" If you do not like it, give it back," said I.

lie pocketed tiie guineas with the quickness of a con-
jurer, and like a base-born cockney as he was, fell instantly
to casting dirt.

'"Ave your own way of it, Mr. Ramornie— leastways
Mr. St. Eaves, or whatever your blessed name may be.
Look 'ere "—turning for sympathy to the stable-boys—
" this IS a blessed business. Blessed 'ard, I calls it. 'Ere
I takes up a blessed son of a pop-gun what calls hisself any-
thing you care to mention, and turns out to be a blessed
iiioNHseer at the end of it ! 'Ere 'ave I been drivin' of him
up and down all day, a-carrying off of gals, a-shootin' of
pistyds, and a-drinkin' of sherry and hale ; and wot does
he up and give me but a blank, blank, blanketing blank !"

The fellow's language had become too powerful for re-
production, a\K\ I pass it by.

Meanwhile I observed Rowley fretting visibly at the bit •
another moment, and he would have added a last touch of
the ridiculous to our arrival by coming to his hands with
the postilion.

" Rowley ! " cried I reprovingly.

i^ .1

1 ■ i

256

ST. IVES

Strictly it should have been Gammon ; but in the hurry
of the moment, my fault (I can only hope) passed unper-
ceived. At the same time I caught the eye of the post-
master. He was long and lean, and brown and bilious ; he
had the drooping noso of the humourist, and the quick at-
tention of a man of parts. He read my embarrassment in
a glance, stepped instantly forward, sent the post-boy to
the right-about with half a word, and was back next mo-
ment at my side.

*' Dinner in a private room, sir ? Very well. John,
No. 4 ! What wine would you care to mention ? Very
well, sir. AVill you please to order fresh horses ? Not
sir ? Very well."

Each of these expressions was accompanied by something
in the nature of a bow, and all were prefaced by something
in the nature of a smile, which I could very well have
done without. The man's politeness was from the teeth
outwards ; behind and within, i was conscious of a perpet-
ual scrutiny : the scene at his doorstep, the random con-
fidences of the post-boy, had not been thrown away on this
observer ; and it was under a strong fear of coming trouble
that I was shown at last into my private room. I was in
half a mind to have put off the whole business. But the
truth is, now my name had got abroad, my fear of the mail
that was coming, and the liandbills it should contain, had
waxed inordinately, and I felt I could never eat a, meal in
peace till I had severed my connection with the claret-
coloured chaise.

Accordingly, as soon as I had done with dinner, I sent my
compliments to the landlord and requested he should take
a glass of wine with me. He came ; we exchanged the nec-
essary civilities, and presently I approached my business.

"By-the-bye," said I, " we had a brush down the road
to-day. 1 dare say you may have heard of it ? "

the hurry
3d unper-
the post-
lious ; he
quick at-
isment in
ist-boy to
lext nio-

. John,

? Very
? Not,

mething
mething
ell have
le teeth
t perpet-
om con-
' on this

trouble
[ was in
But the
the mail
lin, had
meal in

claret-
sent my
lid take
the nec-
siness.
he road

THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSDALE 257

He nodded.

" And I was so unlucky as to get a pistol ball in the
panel of my chaise," I continued, " which makes it simply
useless to me. Do you know any one likely to bny ? "

" I can well understand that," said the landlord. " I was
looking at it just now ; it's as good as ruined, is tiiut chaise.
General rule, people don't like chaises with bullet holes."

"Too much Romance of the Forest?" I suggested, re-
calling my little friend of the morning, and what I was
sure had been her favourite reading — Mrs. Radcliffe's novels.

*' Just so," said he. " Tliey may be right, they may be
wrong ; Fm not the judge. But I suppose it's natural,
after all, for respectable people to like things respectable
about them ; not bullet holes, nor puddles of blood, nor
men with aliases."

I took a glass of wine and held it up to the light to
show that my hand was steady.

" Yes," said I, " I suppose so."

"You have papers, of course, showing you are the
proper owner ? " he inquired.

" There is the bill, stamped and receipted," said I,
tossing it across to him.

He looked at it.

" This all you have ? " he asked.

" It is enough, at least," said I. "It shows you where
I bought and Avhat I paid for it."

" Well, I don't know," he said. " You want some
paper of identification."

" To identify the chaise ?" I inquired.

" Not at all : to identify you," said he.

"My good sir, remember yourself!" said I. "The
title-deeds of my estate are in that despatch-box ; but you
do not seriously suppose that I should allow you to ex-
amine them ?"
17

258

ST. IVES

i :

i .1 !

" That-full weT„tdT„?ttVh "?""■'' "" '°"°-
you are Mr. Ram„r„fe .° ' '"""'"'^ '» l"'"™ '» ">« ".at
"Fellow!" cried I.

thing I will ,-„ b'i for H ' ''™"' "'''• ■' ™'' »>»•■

to go\e,„re .Cg- IV.' t;^ ^rtlS"' n^ "[

fine e,,„„gl,, I hope the n,agi.strates are." ' "' """

My good man," I stainnierc.1, tor thourf, I \„a t ,

my vo.ee, I could scarce be s-,i< t„ \. """''

wi^^ •• this is ,„„st unusual ; 're ;: 1^^"' "^

iliJit depends/ siiid lie '' Whm, -f' ^^'^^^a.
gentlemen are spies it \ L ! ^ ' «"«pected that

I^tnopistoSstiVS::^^^^^^^^^

Mirely, sir, you do nie strange injustice '^' .n,-^ t
the master of myself " Vnn c "'J";^^!^^ 1 said I, now

"^ent of tranon 11 ?f. n. r J"' '^**'"^ ^''''' ^ ^o""-

-^t nmbnlgiiryo^" ' ' ""' ' '^^^"^"^^ towine with-

ouf some „i :l lo 1>?"" ""/'. ''''' ^'^ '"^'"^-
wnuH not car f T V ^ '" oapitnlate. At least. I

not capitulate one moment too soon,

B Mr. Ra-
lie fellow,
o me that

" Fellow,
m fellow,
on like —
5 ; I hear
getting
and one
fht when
lort, sir,
't know
ipers, or
I'm not

1 found
red my

custom
I ?"

ed that
custom
nake a
eman !

I. now
monu-
i with-
in, no

siness
aat, J

THE INN-KEEPER OP KIRKBY-LONSDALE 259

*' Am I to take that for no 9 " he asked.

"Referring to your former obliging proposal ?" said I.
*' My good sir, you are to take it, as you say, for ' No.'
Certainly I will not show you my deeds ; certainly I will
not rise from table and trundle out to see your magistrates.
I have too much respect for my digestion, and too little
curiosity in justices of tlie peace."

He leaned forward, looked me nearly in the face, and
reached out one hand to the bell-rope. " See here, my fine
fellow ! " said he. " Do you see that bell-rope ? Let me
tell you, there's a boy waiting below : one jingle, and he
goes to fetch the constable."

"Do you tell me so?" said I. "Well, there's no
accounting for tastes ! I have a prejudice against the
society of constables, but if it is your fancy to have one in

for the dessert " I shrugged my shoulders lightly.

"Really, you know," I added, "this is vastly entertaining.
I assure you, I am looking on, with all the interest of a
man of the world, at the development of your highly origi-
nal character."

He continued to study my face without speech, his hand
still on the button of the bell-rope, his eyes in mine ; this
was the decisive heat. My fac,' seemed to myself to dislimn
under his gaze, my expression to change, the smile (with
which I had begun) to degenerate into the grin of the man
upon the rack. I was besides harassed with doubts. An
innocent man, I argued, would have resented the fellow's
impudence an hour ago ; and by my continued endurance
of the ordeal, I was simply signing and sealing my confes-
sion ; in short, I had reached the end of my powers.

" Have you any objection to my putting my hands in my
breeches pockets ? " I inquired. " Excuse me mentioning
it, but you showed yourself so extremely nervous a moment
back.'*

260

ST. IVES

li-:

My TOice was not all I could have wished bnt it =„ffi j

or'ueT " ir'"" ""' '"^ '"<''°* '™;t:M

not. He turned away and drew a Ion- breatl, „,L °
...ay be sure I was quio-. to follow his e.^n^^r ' ' '""

said he" ''Al ''""," "* '''"''' "■"' """'^ "«. =».■' I like "
ake it M r" '*:'"" >'"" P''^''^''' I'" deal square. 1%

formo'/LX'"'™'" '°™''' '"'""^ "■>•'"««' V this

'^to*'", tiua you know you numf o-pf if ..«;
your hunds somehow " ^ * '* ^^

=:::;reott?ir»'''"^f'''"

This I did wi . H ? ^''''' '"' *'•" ^"^^'^^^•'^'^ to laugh.

J-nisi did with the most complete abandonment fill ihL
tears ran down n.y cheeks ; and ever and 2,1 e fi

abated, I would get another view of the lanXn'f

go off into another paroxysm. ^ ' ^''''' ^^"^

I Pn-5''"!'^'^" ''^^*"'''' ^'°" "''" ^« tl^e death of me vet ' "
1 cried, drying my eyes. ^^*^ '

My friend was now whollv disconnp,-fa,i . i ,
where to look, nor yet what l^T^tJ:^^Zrl
tnne to conceive it possible he was mistake^ '"'

« You seem rather to enjoy a langh, sir," said he.
agai"' ^ "'" '^""' "" ""S"'"''" I ■■"Pli^d, and laughed

Presently, in a changed voice he nff„».l
pounds for the chnicp ■ r i '"' ™® '""^'J

Ised with the otr ; ,,'.'"' "^ '" '«'.'.V-five, and
....j :" ; ! '. .°"'" • ".deed, I was glad to irct™vH,;„„ .
«a .. . nagg,ea, u was not ,n the d«,ire of gainrbuTw'ilh

THE INN-KEEPER OE KIRKBY-LONSDALE 261

the view at any price of securing a safe retreat. For,
although hostilities were suspended, he was yet far from
satisfied ; and I could read his continued suspicions in the
cloudy eye that still hovered about my face. At lust they
took shape in words.

" This is all very well," says he : " you carry it off well ;
but for all that, I must do my duty."

I had my strong effect in reserve ; it was to burn my
ships with a vengeance ! 1 rose. " Leave the room," said
I. '' This is insufferable. Is the man mad ?" And then,
as if already half ashuuied of my passion : " I can take a joke
as well as any one," 1 added ; "but this passes measure.
Send my servant and the bill."

When lie luid left me alone, I considered my own valour
with amazement. I had insulted him. ; I had sent him
away alone ; now, if ever, lie would take what was the only
sensible resource, and fetch the constable. But there was
something instinctively treacherous about the man, which
shrank from plain courses. And, witli all his cleverness,
he missed the occasion of fame. Kowley and I were suffered
to walk out of his door, with all our baggage, on foot, with
no destination named, except in the vague statement that
we were come "to view the lakes"; and my friend only
watched our departure with his chin in his hand, still
moodily irresolute.

I think tliis one of my great successes. I was exposed,
unmasked, summoned to do a perfectly natural act, which
must prove my doom and which I had not the slightest
pretext for refusing. J kept my head, stuck to my guns,
and, against all likelihood, herf- } was once more at liberty
and in the king's higliway. This was a strong lesson never
to despair ; and at the same time, how maiiy hints to be
^H*4ons : aad what a perplexed and dnbious buBJness the
whole question of my escape now appeared ! That I should

I I

t I

262

ST. IVES

suffered myself to be d™ ' , tl™ '■ ""^ " ' '""■ "°'

inn of Kirkhv r In Ji , t . " " '""^" "° '"•""« at the

promised :;y^''™lff„t,'T?"'""" '" "^"■■'' """
none of my business to T,Za * k "I"'" '''^''"'"^- " ™»
wrecked traveUe s T I / , ■"'"'" '■'"""=' »■■ *'P-

ill

fcion of a
' that per-
lie initial
■t had not
iences to
3le at the
5art, and
!• It M'as
or ship-
my own
i natural

CHAPTER XXV

I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT

I PASS over tlie next fifty or sixty leagues of our journey
without comment. The reader must be growing weary of
scenes of travel ; and for my own part I have no cause to
recall those particular miles with any pleasure. We were
mainly occupied with attempts to obliterate our trail,
which (as the result showed) were far from successful ; for
on my cousin following, he was able to run me home with
the least possible loss of time, following the claret-coloured
chaise to Kirkby-Lonsdale, where I think the landlord
must have wept to learn what he had missed, and t.-acing
us thereafter to the doors of the coach office in Edinburgh
witiiout a single check. Fortune did not favour me, and
why should I recapitulate the details of futile precautions
wliicii deceived nobody, and wearisome arts which proved
to be artless ?

The day was drawing to an end when Mr. Rowley and I
bowled into Edinburgh, to the stirring sound of the guard's
bugle and the clattering team. I was here upon my field
of battle ; on the scene of my former captivity, escape and
exploits ; and in the same city with my love. My heart
expanded ; I have rarely felt more of a hero. All down
the Bridges, I sat by the driver with my arms folded and
my face set, unflincliingly meeting every eye, and prepared
every moment for a cry of recognition. Hundreds of the
population were in the habit of visiting the Castle, where

S63

j I

264

ST. IVES

it was my practice (before the clays of Flora) to make my-
self conspicuous among tlie prisoners ; and I think it an ex-
tr ordinary thing that I should have encountered so few to
recognise me. But doubtless a clean chin is a disguise in
itself ; and the change is great from a suit of sulphur yel-
low to fine linen, a well-fitting mouse-coloured great-coat
furred in black, a pair of tight trousers of fashionable cut,
and a hat of inimitable curl. After all, it was more likely
that I should have recognised our visitors, than that they
should have identified the modish gentleman with the mis-
erable prisoner in the Castle.

I was glad to set foot on the flagstones, and to escape
from the crowd that had assembled to receive the mail.
Here we were, with but little daylight before us, and that
on Saturday afternoon, the eve of the famous Scottish
Sabbath, adrift in the New Town of Edinburgh, and over-
laden with baggage. We carried it ourselves. I would
not take a cab, nor so much as hire a porter, who might
afterwards serve as a link between my lodgings and the
mail, and connect me again with the claret-coloured chaise
and Aylesbury. For I was resolved to break the chain of
evidence for good, and to begin life afresh (;^o far as re-
gards caution) with a new character. The first step was to
find lodgings, and to find them quickly. This was the
more needful as Mr. Rowley and I, in our smart clothes and
with our cumbrous burthen, made a noticeable appearance
in the streets at that time of the day and in that quarter of
the town, v^hich was largely given up to fine folk, bucks
and dandies and young ladies, or respectable professional
men on their way home to dinner.

On the north side of St. James's Square I was so happy
as to spy a bill in a third-floor window. I was equally in-
different to cost and couvcniencc in my choice of a lodging
— " any port in a storm " was the principle on Avhich I was

I MEET A CHEERFUL TRAVAGANT

265

make my-
k it an ex-
[ so few to
iisguise in
Ipliur yel-
great-coat
liable cut,
lore likely
that they
1 the mis-

to escape
the mail.

and that

Scottish
and over-

I would
ho might

and the
red chaise
J chain of
far as re-
;ep was to
i was the
othes and
jpearance
luarter of
Ik, bucks
ofessional

so happy
^ually in-
a lodging
lich I was

i'.

prepared to act ; and Rowley and I made at once for the
common entrance and scaled the stair.

We were admitted by a very sour-looking female in bom-
bazine. I gathered she had all her life been depressed by
a series of bereavements, the last of which might very well
have befallen her the day before ; and I instinctively low-
ered my voice when I addressed her. She admitted she
had rooms to let— even showed them to us— a sitting-room
and bedroom in a suite, commanding a fine prospect to the
Firth and Fifcshire, and in themselves well proportioned
and comfortably furnished, with pictures on the wall,
shells on the mantelpiece, and several books upon the table,
which I found afterwards to be all of a devotional charac-
ter, and all presentation copies, " to my Christian friend,"
or "to my devout acquaintance in the Lord, Bethiah
McRanken." Beyond this my " Christian friend " could
not be made to advance : no, not even to do that which
seemed the most natural and pleasing thing in the world—
I mean to name her price— but stood before us shaking
her head, and at times mourning like the dove, the picture
of depression and defence. She had a voice the most
querulous I have ever heard, and with this she produced a
.whole regiment of difficulties aiul criticisms.

She could not promise us attendance.

''Well, madam," said I, "and what is my servant
for ? "

" Ilim ? " she asked. " Be gude to us ! Is he your ser-
vant ? "

" I am sorry, ma'am, he m-ets with your disapproval."
"Na, I never said that. But he's young. He'll be a
great breaker, Fm thinkin'. Ay ! he'll be a great respon-
sibeolity to ye, like. Does he attend to his releegion ? "

" Yes. m'm," returned Rowley, with admirable promp-
titude, and, immcdi;^^elJ -losing his eyes, as if from habit,

266

ST. IVE8

repeated the following distich with more celerity thau
fervour r —

" Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on ! "

"Nhm!" said the lady, and maintained an awful si.
lence.

''Well, ma'am," said I, -it seems we are never to hear
the heginning of your terms, let alone the end of them.
Come~u good movement ! and let us he either off or on "
_ She opened her lips slowly. " Ony rufereuceb ? " she
mquired, in a voice like a bell.

I opened my pocket-book and showed her a handful of
bank-bills. " I think, madam, that these are unexception-
abic/' ;.,aid I. ^

'' Ye'll be wantin' breakfast late ? " was her reply.

''7iadam,we want breakfast at whatever hour it suits
you to give it, from four in the morning till four in the
afternoon !" I cried. " Only tell us your figure, if your
mouth be large enougli to let it out ! "

^1 1 couldnae give ye supper the nicht," came the echo.

" We shall go out to supper, you incorrigible female ! "
I voweil, between laughter and tears. " If ere— this is
going to end ! I want you for a landlady-let me tell you
that .'—and I am going to have my way. You won't tell
me what you charge ? Very well ; I will do without ! I
can trust you ! You don't seem to know when you liave a
good lodger; but I know perfectly when I have an honest
landlady ! Rowley, unstrap the valises ! "

Will it be credited ? The monomaniac fell to rating me
for my indiscretion ! But the battle was over ; these were
Jier last guns, and more in the nature of a salute than of
renewed hostilities. And presently phe condescended on
very moderate terms, and Rowley and I were able to escape

I MEET \ CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT

267

in qiiost of supper. Much time had, however, been lost ;
the sun was long down, the himps glimmered along tho
streets, and the voice of a watchman already resounded in
the neighbouring Leith Road n our first arrival I had
observed a place of entertain. . not far off, in a street
behind tbc Register House. Thither we found our way,
and sat down to a late dinner alone. But we had scarce
given our orders before the door oi)eiu-(l, and a tall young
fellow entered with something of a lurch, looked about
him, and approached the same table.

"Give you good evening, most grave and reverend se-
niors ! " said he. " Will you permit a wanderer, a pilgrim
—the pilgrim of love, in short— to come to temporary anch-
or under your lee ? I :are not who knows it, but I have
a passionate aversion from the bestial practice of solitary
feeding ! "

" You are welcome, sir," said I, " if I may take upon
me so far to play the host in a public place."

He looked startled, and fixed a hazy eye on me, as he sat
down.

" Sir," said he, " you are a man not without some tinct-
ure of letters, 1 perceive ! What shall we drink, sir ? "
■I mentioned I had already called for a pot of porter.

" A modest pot— the seasonable quencher ? " said he.
" Well, I do not know but what I could look at a modest
pot myself ! I am, for the moment, in precarious health.
Much study hath heated my brain, much walking wearied
my — well, it seems to be more my eyes ! "

" You have walked far, I daresay ? " I suggested.

" Not so much far as often," he replied. '' There is in
this city— to which, I thiiik, you are a stranger ? Sir, to
your very good health, and our better acquaintance !-
there is, m tnis city of Dunedin, a certain implication of
Streets which rejects the utmost credit on the designer and

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TEST TARGET (MT-3)

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1.4

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1.6

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Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

<^-

<^s

268

ST. IVES

the publicans— at every hundred yards is seated the Judi-
cious Tavern, so that persons of contemplative mind are
secure, at moderate distances, of refreshment. I have been
doing a trot in that favoured quarter, favoured by art and
nature. A few chosen comrades — enemies of publicity
and friends to wit and wine— obliged me with their society.
'Along the cool, sequestered vale of Register Street we
kept tlic uneven tenor of our way,' sir."

" It struck me, as you came in " I began.

" 0, don't make any bones about it ! " he interrupted.
" Of course it struck you ! and let me tell you, I was dev-
ilish lucky not to strike myself. When I entered this
apartment I shone ' with all the pomp and prodigality of
brandy and water,' as the poet Gray has in another place
expressed it. Powerful bard. Gray ! but a niminy-piminy
creature, afraid of a petticoat and a bottle — not a man, sir,
not a man ! Excuse me for being so troublesome, but what
the devil have I done with my fork ? Thank you, I am
sure. Temuhntia, quoad me ipsum, brevis colligo est. I
sit and eat, sir, in a London fog. I should bring a link-
boy to table with me ; and I would too, if the little brutes
were only washed ! I intend to found a Philanthropical
Society for Washing the Deserving Poor and Shaving Sol-
diers. I am pleased to observe that, although not of an
unmilitary bearing, you are apparently shaved. In my
calendar of the vi.tues, shaving comes next to drinking.
A gentleman may be a low-minded ruffian without six-
pence, but he will always be close shaved. See me, with
the eye of fancy, in the chill hours of the morning, say
about a quarter to twelve, noon — see me awake ! First
thing of all, without one thought of tlie plausible but un-
satisfactory small beer, or the healthful though insipid
soda-water, I take the deadly razor in my vacillating
grasp ; I proceed to skate upon the margin of eternity.

I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT

2C9

Stimulating thought ! I bleed, perliaps, but with medica-
ble Avounds. The stubble reaped, I pass out of my cham-
ber, calm but triumphant. To employ a hackneyed phrase,
I would not call Lord Wellington my uncle ! I, too, luive
dared, perhaps bled, before the imminent deadly sliaving
table."

In this manner the bombastic fellow continued to enter-
tain me all through dinner, and by a common error of
drunkards, because ho had been extremely talkative him-
self, leaped to the conclusion tliat he had chanced on very
genial company. He told me his name, his address ; he
begged we sliould meet again ; fiiudly he proposed that I
should dine with him in the country at an early date.

"The dinner is official," he explained. "The office-
bearers and Senatus of the University of Cramond— an
educational institution in which I have the honour to be
Professor of Nonsense— meet to do honour to our friend
Icarus, at the old-established houf\ Cramond Bridge. One
place is vacant, fascinating stranger,— I offer it to you I"
"And who is your friend Icarus ?" I asked.
" The aspiring son of Da3dalus ! " said he. <' Is it pos-
sible that you have never heard the name of Byfield ? "

" Possible and true," said I.
^ "And is fame so small a thing ?" cried he. '■ Byfield,
sir, is an aeronaut. He apes the fame of a Lunardi, and
IS on the point of offering to the inhabitants— I beg your
pardon, to the nobility and gentry of our neighbou^rliood
—the spectacle of an ascension. As one of the gentry
concerned, I may be permitted to remark that I am un-
moved. I care not a Tinker's Damn for his ascension.
No more— I breathe it in your ear— does anybody else
The business is stale, sir, stale. Lunardi did it, and over-
did It A whimsical, fiddling, vain fellow, by all accounts
—for I was at that time rocking in my cradle. But once

270

ST. IVES

was enough. If Lunardi went up and came down, there
was the matter settled. We prefer to grant the point.
We do not want to see the experiment repeated ad nau-
seam by Byfield, and Brown, and Butler, and Brodie, and
Bottomley. Ah ! if they would go up and not come down
again ! But this is by the question. The University of
Cramond delights to honour merit in the man, sir, rather
than utility in the profession ; and Byfield, though an
ignorant dog, is a sound, reliable drinker, and really not
amiss over his cups. Under the radiance of the kindly
* jar, partiality might even credit him with wit."

It will be seen afterwards that this was more my busi-
ness than I thought it at the time. Indeed, I was im-
patient to be gone. Even as my friend maundered ahead,
a squall burst, the jaws of the rain were opened against
the coffee-house windows, and ut that inclement signal I
remembered I was due elsewhere.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT

At the door I was nearly blown back by the nnbridled
violence of the squall, and Kowley and I must shout our
parting words. All the way along Princes Street (whither
my way led) the wind hunted me behind and screamed in
my ears. The city was flushed with bucketfuls of rain that
tasted salt from the neighbouring ocean. It seemed to
darken and lighten again in the vicissitudes of the gusts
Aow you would say the lamps had been blown out from
end to end of tiie long thoroughfare ; now, in a lull, they
would revive, re-multiply, shine again on the wet pave-
ments, and make darkness sparingly visible.

By the time I liad got to the corner of the Lothian Road
there was a distinct improvement. For one thing, I had
now my shoulder to the wind ; for a second, I came in the
lee of my old prison-house, the Castle ; and, at any rate,
the excessive fury of the blast was itself moderating. The
thought of what errand I was on re-awoke within me, and
I seemed to breast the rough weather with increasing ease.
\Mth such a destination, what mattered a little buffeting
of wind or a sprinkle of cold water ? I recalled Flora's
image I took her in fancy to my arms, and my heart
throbbed. And the next moment I had recognised the in-
anity of that fool's paradise. If I could spy her taper as
she went to bed, I might count myself lucky.

I hud about two leagues before me of a road mostly un-

271 ^ ^

272

ST. IVES

,.'! I

hiil, and now deep in mire. So soon as I was clear of the
last street lamp, darkness received me — a darkness only
pointed by the lights of occasional rustic farms, where the
dogs howled with uplifted heads as I went by. The wind
continued to decline : it had been but a squall, not a tem-
pest. The rain, on the other hand, settled into a steady
deluge, which had soon drenched me thoroughly. I con-
tinued to tramp forward in tlie night, contending with
gloomy thougiits and accompanied by the dismal ululatioii
of the dogs. What ailed them that tliey should have been
thus wakeful, and perceived the small sound of my stei)s
"mid the general reverberation of the rain, was more than
I (!Ould fancy. I remembered tales with which I had
been entertained in childhood. I told myself some mur-
derer was going by, and the brutes perceived upon him the
faint smell of blood ; and the next moment, with a physi-
cal sliock, I had applied the words to my own case !

Here was a dismal disposition for a lover. '"Was ever
lady in this humour wooed ?" I asked m3^self, and came
near turning back. It is never wise to risk a critical in-
terview when your spirits are depressed, your clothes
muddy, and your hands wet ! But the boisterous night
was in itself favourable to my enterprise : now, or perhaps
never, I might find some way to have an interview with
Flora; and if I had one interview (wet clothes, low spirits
and all), I told myself there would certainly be another.

Arrived in the cottage garden, I found the circumstances
mighty inclement. From the round holes in the shutters
of the parlour, shafts of candle-light streamed forth ; else-
where the darkness was complete. The trees, the thickets,
were saturated ; the lower parts of the garden turned into
a morass. At intervals, when the wind broke forth again,
there passed overhead a wild coil of clashing branches ;
and between whiles the whole enclosure continuously and

I •

THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT

273

stridently resounded with the rain. I advanced close to
the window and contrived to read the face of my watch.
It was half-past seven ; they would not retire before ten,
they might not before midnight, and Mie prospect was un-
pleasjint. In a lull of the wind I could hear from the in-
side the voice of Flora reading ahKid ; the words of course
inaudible— only a flow of undecipherable speecb, quiet, cor-
dial, colourless, more intimate and witining, more elorpient
of her personality, but not less beautiful than song. And
the next moment the clamour of a fresh squall broke out
about the cottage ; the voice was drowned in its bellowing,
and I was glad to retreat from my dangerous post.

For three egregious hours I must now suffer the ele-
ments to do tlieir worst upon me, and continue to hold my
ground in patience. I recalled the least fortunate of my
services in tlie field : being out-sentry of the pickets in
weather iio less vile, sometimes unsuppered and with noth-
ing to look forward to by way of breakfast but musket-
balls ; and they seemed light in comparison. So strangely
are we bnilt : so much more strong is the love of woman
than the mere love of life.

At last my patience was rewarded. The light disap-
peared from the parlour and reap])eared a moment after in
the room above. I was pretty well informed for the en-
terprise that lay before me. I knew the lair of the dragon
—that which was just illuminated. I knew the bower of
my Kosamond, and how excellently it was placed on the
ground level, round the flank of the cottage and out of
earshot of her formidable aunt. Nothing was left but to
apply my knowledge. I was then at the bottom of the
garden, whither I had gone (Heaven save the mark !) for
warmth, that I might walk to and fro unheard and keep
myself from perishing. The night had fallen afcill, the
wind ceased ; the noise of the rain had much lightened if
18

lii

1 t

274

ST. IVES

it had not stopped, and was succeeded by the dripping of
the garden trees. In the midst of this lull, and as I was
already drawing near to the cottage, I was startled by the
sound of a window-sash screaming in its channels ; and a
step or two beyond I became aware of a gush of light upon
the darkness. It fell from Flora's window, which slie had
flung open on the night, and where she now sat, rosoute
and pensive, in the shine of two candles falling from be-
hind, her tresses deeply embowering and shading her ; the
suspended comb still in one hand, tlie other idly clinging
to the iron stanchions with which the window was barred.
Keeping to the turf, and favoured by the darkness of
the night and the patter of the rain which was now return-
ing, though without wind, I approached until I could
almost have touched her. It seemed a grossness of which
I was incapable to break up her revorie by speech. I stood
and drank her in with my eyes ; how the light made a
glory in her hair, and (what I have always thought the
most ravishing thing in nature) how the planes ran into
each other, and were distinguished, and how the hues
blended and varied, and were shaded off, between the cheek
and neck. At first I was abashed : she wore her beauty
like an immediate halo of refinement ; she discouraged me
like an angel, or what I sus]>ect to be the next most dis-
couraging, a modern lady. But as I continued to gaze,
hope and life returned to me ; I forgot my timidity, I for-
got the sickening pack of wet clothes with which I stood
burdened, I tingled with new blood.

Still unconscious of my presence, still gazing before her
upon the illuminated image of the window, the straight
shadows of the bars, the glinting of pebbles on the path,
and the impenetrable night on the garden and the hills
beyond it, she heaved a deep breath that struck upon my
heart like an appeal.

THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT

275

" Why does Miss Gilchrist sigh ? " I whispered. '' Does
she recall absent friends ? "

She turned her head swiftly in my direction ; it was the
only sign of surprise she deigned to make. At the same
time I stepped forward into tlie light aiid bowed pro-
foundly.

"You!" she said. "Ilere.^"

" Yes, I am here," I replied. " I have come very far,
it may be a hundred and fifty leagues, to see you. I have
waited all this night in your garden. Will Miss Gilchrist
not offer her hand—to a friend In trouble ? "

She extended it between the bars, and I droi)pod ui)on
one knee on the wet path, and kissed it twice. At the
second it was withdrawn suddenly, niethought with more
of a start than she had hitherto displayed. 1 regained my
former attitude, and we were both silent awhile. My
timidity returned on me tenfold. I looked in her face for
any signals of anger, and seeing her eyes to waver and fall
aside from mine, augured that all was well.

" You must have been mad to come here ! " she broke
out. " Of all places under heaven, this is no place for vou
to come. And I was just thinking you were si; • 'n
France ! "

** You were thinking of me ! " I cried.

<' Mr. St. Ives, you cannot understand your danger,"
she replied. '* I am sure of it, and yet I cannot find it in
my heart to tell you. 0 be persuaded, and go ! "

" I believe I know the worst. But I was never one to
set an undue value on life, the life that we share with
beasts. My university has been in the wars, not a famous
place of education, but one where a man learns to carry his
life in his hand as lightly as a glove, and for his lady or his
honour to lay it as lightly down. You appeal to m^ fears,
and you do wrong. I have come to Scotland with my eyes

276

ST. IVES

M;!

quite open, to sec you and to spe.'ik with you— it may bo
for the last time. With my eyes quite open, I say ; and if
I did not hesitate at tlie beginning, do you think tliat I
wouhl draw back now ? "

"You do not know !" she cried, with rising agitation.
" This country, even this garden, is deatli to you. Tliey
all believe it ; I am the only one that does not. If they
hear you now, if they lieard a whisper— I dread to think
of it 0, go, go this instant. It is my prayer."

" Dear lady, do not refuse me what I have come so far to
seek ; and remember that out of all the millions in En"'-
land there is no other but yourself in whom i can dare
confide. I have all the world against me ; you are my only
ally ; and as I have to speak, you have to listen. All is
true that they say of me, and all of it false at the same time.
I did kill this man Goguelat— it was that you meant ?"

She mutely signed to me that it was ; she had become
deadly pale.

" But I killed him in fair fight. Till then, I had never
taken a life unless in battle, which is my trade. But I was
grateful, I was on fire with gratitude, to one who had been
good to me, who had been better to me than I could have
dreamed of an angel, who had come into the darkness of
my prison like sunrise. The man Goguelat insulted her.
0, he had insulted me often, it was his favourite pastime,
and he might insult me as he pleased- for who was I ?
But with that lady it was different. I could never forgive
myself if I had let it pass. And we fought, and he fell,
and I have no remorse."

I waited anxiously for some reply. The worst was now
out, and I knew that she had hear I of it before; but it
was impossible for me to go on with my narrative without
some shadow of encouragement.
" You blame me ? "

THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT

277

it may "bo
ly ; and if
Ilk that I

agitation.

'U. Tliey

If tliey

to think

} so far to
i in Eng-
can dare
e my only
I. All is
ime time.
ant?"
i become

lad never
But I was
had been
mid have
I'kness of
ilted her.
pastime,

0 was I ?
:r foi-give

1 he fell,

was now
! ; but it
I without

" No, not at all. It is a point I cannot speak on— I am
only a girl. I am sure you were in the right : I have
always said so— to Ronald. Not, of course, to my aunt.
I am afraid I let her speak as she will. Vou must not
think me a disloyal friend; and even with the Miijor— [
did not tell you he had become quite a friend of ours—
Major Chevenix I mean-he has taken such a fancy to
Konald ! It was he that brought the news to us of tiuit
hateful Clausel being captured, and all that he was raying.
I was indignant with Iiim. I said— I daresay I said too
much— and I must say he was very good-natured. He
said, * You and I, who are his friends, knoiv that Champ-
divers is innocent. But what is the use of saying it?'
All this was in the corner of the room, in what they call
an aside. And then he said, 'Give me a chance to speak
to you in private, I have much to tell you.' And he did.
And told me just what you did— that it was an affair of
honour, and no blame attached to you. 0, I must say I
like that Major Chevenix ! "

At this I was seized with a great pang of jealousy. I
remembered the first time that he had seen her, the inter-
est that he seemed immediately to conceive ; and I could
not but admire the dog for the use he had been ingenious
enough to make of our p.-naintance in order to supplant
me.. All is fair in love a;irt war. For all that, I was now
no less anxious to do the speaking myself than I had been
before to hear Flora. At least, I could keep clear of the
hateful image of Major Chevenix. Accordingly I burst at
once on the narrative of my adventures. It was the same
as you have read, but briefer, and told with a very dif-
ferent purpose. Now every incident had a partfcular
bearing, every by-way branched off to Rome-and that
was Flora.

When I had begun to speak, I had kneeled upon the

278

ST. IVES

gravel M'ithoutsi.le the low window, rested my arms ui.on
tlio sill, and lowered my voice to the most ooiifideutial
whisper. Flora herself must kneel upon the other side
and this brought our heads upon a level, with oidy the
bars between us. So placed, so separated, it seemed that
our in-oximity, and the continuous and low sounds of my
pleading voice, worked progressively and powerfully on
her heart, and i)erhaps not less so on my own. For these
spells are double-edged. The silly birds may be chamied
with the pij.o of the fowler, which is but a tube of reeds
Not so with a bird of our own feather ! As I went on"
and my resolve strengthened, and my voice found new
modulations, and our faces were drawn closer to the bars
and to oach other, not only she, but I, succumbed to the
fascination and were kindled by the charm. We make
love, and thereby ourselves fall the deeper in it. It is
with the heart only that one captures a heart.

" And now," I continued, - I will tell you what you can
still do for me. I run a little risk just now, a ad you see
for yourself how unavoidable it is for any man of honour
But if-but in case of the worst, I do not choose to enrich
either my enemies or the Prince Regent. I have here the
bulk of what my uncle gave me. Eight thousand odd
pounds. Will yon take care of it for me ? Do not think
of It merely as money ; take and keep it as a relic of your
friend or some precious piece of iiim. I may have bitter
need of it ere long. Do you know the old country story
of the giant who gave his heart to his wife to keep for him
thinking it safer to repose on her loyalty than his owii
strength ? Flora, I am the giant-a very little one • will
you be the keeper of my life ? It is my heart I offer you
in this symbol. In the sight of God, if you will have it, I
give you my name, I endow you with my money. If the
worst come, if I may never hope to calf you wife, let me

THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT

279

'ms u])Oii
iifideiitial
lior side,
only tlio
mod tliMt,
lis of my
•fully on
'or tlieso
(!lm«'nu'd
of reeds,
vent on,
ind now
the bars
d to tlio
^e nijiko
. It is

you can
you see
lionour.
0 enrich
liere the
ind odd
it think
of your
e bitter
ry story
'or him,
lis own
le : will
Ter you
ive it, 1
If the
let me

at least think that you will use my uncle's legacy as n.v
widow." ■^

"No, not that," she said. " Never that."
" What then ? " I said. - What else, my angel ? What
nre words to me ? There is but one name that I care to
know you by. Flora, my love ! "
" Anno ! " she said.

What sound is so full of music as one's own name uttered
for the first time in the voice of her wo love ?
"My darling! "said I.

The jealous bars, set at the top and bottom in stone and
lime, obstructed tlio rapture of the moment ; but I took
her to myself as wholly us they allowed. 8he did not shun
my hps. My arins were wound round her body, which
yielded itself generously to my embrace. As we so re-
mained, entwined and yet severed, bruising our faces un-
consciously on the cold bars, the irony of the universe-
or as I prefer to say, envy of some of the gods-ugain
stn-red up the elements of tliat stormy ni lit. The wind
blew again in the tree-tops ; a volley of cold sea-rain
deluged the garden, and, as the deuce would Inve it a
gutter which had been hitiun-to choked up. began sudden' y
to play upon my head and shoulders vvitli the vivacity of a
fountain. We parted with a sliook ; I sprang to my feet
and -she to hers, as though we had been discovered. A
moment after, but now both standing, we had again ap-
preached the window on either side.

" Flora," I said, " this is but a poor offer I can make you."
She took my hand in hers and clasped it to her bosom
"Rich enough for a queen !" she said, with a lift in her
breathing that was more eloquent than words " Anne
my brave Anne ! I would be glad to be your maidservant ';
I could envy that boy Rowley. But, no ! " she broke otf,
"I envy no one—I need not— I am yours."

280

ST. IVES

I I

iHBS&'3l

1 '

^^S^'<^

1 '

H'%'

^^^^w^ K'

K^ ^j

^s ^i

R i , li

" Mine," said I, " for ever ! By this and this, mine !

"All
ever ! "

of me," she repeated. " Altogether, and for

And if the god were envious, he must have seen with
mortification how little he could do to mar the happiness
of mortals. I stood in a mere waterspout ; she herself was
wet, not from my embrace only, but from the splashing of
the storm. The candles had gutted out ; we were in dark-
ness. I could scarce see anything but the shining of her
eyes in the dark room. To her I must have appeared as a
silhouette, haloed by rain and the spouting of the ancient
Gothic gutter above my head.

Presently we became more calm and confidential ; and
when that squall, which proved to be the last of the storm,
had blown by, fell into a talk of ways and means. It
seemed she knew Mr. Robbie, to whom I had been so
slenderly accredited by Romaine — was even invited to his
house for the evening of Monday, and gave me a sketch of
the old gentleman's character, which implied a great deal
of penetration in herself and proved of great use to me in
the immediate sequel. It seemed he was an enthusiastic
antiquary, and in particular a fanatic of heraldry. I
heard it with delight, for I was myself, thanks to M. de
Culemberg, fairly grounded in that science, and acquainted
with the blazons of most families of note in Europe. And
I had made up my mind — even as she spoke it was my fixed
determination, though I Avas a hundred miles from 3aying
it — to meet Flora on Monday night as a fellow-guest in Mr.
Robbie's house.

I gave her my money — it was, of course, only paper I had
brought. I gave it her, to be her marriage portion, I
declared.

" Xot so bad a marriage portion for a private soldier,"
I told her, laughing, as I passed it through the bars.

THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT

281

3, mine ! "
r, and for

seen with
i happiness
herself was
plashing of
ire in dark-
ling of her
peared us a
;he ancient

" 0, Anne, and where am I to keep it ? " she cried.
"If my aunt should find it ! What would I say ! "

"Next your heart," I suggested.

" Then you will always be near yonr treasure," she cried,
"for you are always there !"

We were interrupted by a sudden clearness that tell
upon the night. The clouds dispersed ; the stars shone in
every part of the heavens ; and, consulting my watch, I
was startled to find it already hard on five in the morning.

ntial ; and
the storm,
means. It
id been so
ited to his
a sketch of
great deal
e to me in
iithusiastic
iraldry. I
i to M. de
acquainted
ope. And
is my fixed
rom 3aying
Licst in Mr.

oaper I had
portion, I

e soldier,"
bars.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SABBATH DAY

bnfwW T^'''^!''f *'"^? I «^^°"1^^ J^e gone from Swanston ;
but what I was to do in the meanwlulo was another ques
Uon. Row oy had received his orders last night : he was
to say tlutt I had met a friend, and Mrs. MeRankine wa
not o expect me before n.orning. A good enough Z^tu
Itself; but lie dreadful i,iekle I was in made it out of the
question. I could not go home till I had found harbou
agt a fire to dry my clothes at, and a bed where I might
lie till they were ready. ^

Fortune favoured me again. I had scarce got to the
top of the first hill when I spied a light on my feft -^o t
;t furlong away. It might be a case ^f sickne^ ' w h.; ^ '
It was hkely to be-in so rustic a neighbourhood a da

;:: v";f •"? "t f ^'^^ -o-mg-was beyoi;:^^':;

f.tncj . A famt sound of singing became audible, and grad-
ua ly swellecl as I drew near, until at last I cmild mala,
out he words which were singularly appropriate bo ho
the hour and to the condition of the singers «' The cock
may craw, the day may daw," they sang and sang i
such a.ity both in time and tune, and such sentimental
complaisance ni the expression, as assured me they had o
far into LI.e third bottle at least. ^ ^

caHecrdoiblf "\r'''''-''""«' ^^ '^'' ^^^>'^'^«' ^^ the sort
called double, with a signboard over the door • and the

hght^within streaming forth and somewhat mitigjl^ the

THE SABBATH DAT

283

wanston ;
ler ques-
•• lie was
tine was
li tale in
It of the
liarbour-
I might

t to the
t, about
'liat else
, and at
)ncl my
iJ grad-
J make
both to
lie cock
it with
mental
lud got

he sort
id, the
ing the

darkness of the morning, I was enabled to decipher the in-
scription : " The Hunters' Tryst, by Alexander Hendry.
Porter, Ales, and British Spirits. Beds."

My first knock put a period to the music, and a voice
challenged tipsily from within.

" Who goes there ?" it said ; and I replied, '' A lawful
traveller."

Immediately after, the door was unbarred by a couipany
of the tallest lads my eyes had ever rested on, all astonish-
ingly drunk and very decently dressed, and one (who was
perhaps the drunkest of tlie lot) carrying a tallow candle,
from which he impartially bedewed the clothes of the
whole company. As soon as I saw them I could not help
smiling to myself to remember the anxiety with which I
had approached. They received me and my hastily-con-
cocted story, that I had been walking from Peebles and
had lost my way, with incoherent benignity ; jostled me
among them into the room where they had been sitting, a
plain hedge-row alehouse parlour, with a roaring fire in
the chimney and a prodigious number of empty bottles on
the floor ; and informed me that I was made, by this re-
ception, a temporary member of the Six-Feet-High Club, an
athletic society of young men in a good station, who made
of the Hunters' Tryst a frequent resort. They told me I
had intruded on an " all-night sitting," following upon an
^'all-day Saturday tramp" of forty miles; and that the
members would all be up and " as right as ninepence " for
the noonday service at some neighbouring church— Col-
lingwood, if memory serves me right. At this I could
have laughed, but the moment seemed ill chosen. For,
though six feet was their standard, they all exceeded that
measurement considerably ; and T tasted again some of the
sensations of childhood, as I looked up to all these lads
from a lower plane, and wondered what they would do

284

ST. IVES

iii

il!

next. But the Six-Footcrs, if thoy were very cl,.,„>l<
b3 ...itui, 1 gift or acquired habit, tliey eould suHer nandc-

Z'Zl'TfT "''"'"""""' >■«' "^ ™'^«"^'

of th,l ™ "" '"""'""'•■^' only ".at the som.d

of the.r monng rose and fell ceaselessly, like the dro„e o
a bagp,,,e. Here the Six-Footors invaded them_i„ their
e.tadel,sotospeak; counted the hunks and the s epts
proposed to put me in bed to one of the lasses, pr„p3 o
h», oue of the lasses out to make room for me. feU ov
cla, s ,,ud made noise enough to waken the dead • the
whole dlnm.nated by the same young torch-bea or but
now w,th two candles, and rapidly beginning toToi: like
a man m a snowstorm. At last a bed was fo™d for me
my clothes wero hung out to dry before the parlou fl"e
and I was mercifully left to my repose '

I awoke about nine with the sun shining in my eves
The land ord came at my summons, brought me my cloM es
dned and decently brushed, and gave me the g„« new
hat the S.x-Feet-High Club were all abed and sfeen „g off

f"r'breakft/r™ '^ """"" "'"S"''''^" Pateh waiting

to. breakfast) I came on a barn door, and, looking in saw

all the red faces mixed in the straw like ^lums in ^ cake

Quoth the stalwart maid who brought me my porridge a„d

bade me "eat them while they were hot," " Av, thev ww

theT'l LT"'"".,"""™"*-' "™'-' "'W-reflnelaran,
they 11 be nane the waur of it. Forby Parbes's eojt • I

dmrra see wha's to get the ereish off ihat ! "he added

be rer^r" V',', "'™"' '""""^^'"^ ^"^''^ - '"« 'orct
Dearer, I mentally joined.

It was a brave morning when T took the road : the sun
ehone, spring seemed in the air, it smelt like April or May!

THE SABBATH DAY

285

and some over-venturous birds sang in tlie coppices us I
went by. I hud plenty to think of, plenty to be gruteful
for, thut gullunt morning ; and yet i hud u twitter at my
heart. To enter the city by daylight might be compared
to marching on a battery ; every face that 1 confronted
would threaten me like the muzzle of a gun ; and it cunie
into my lieud suddenly with how much better a coun-
tenance I should be able to do it if 1 could but improvise
u companion. Hard by Merchiston, I was so fortunate as
to observe a bulky gentleman in broadcloth and gaiters,
stooping with his head almost between his knees before a
stone wall. Seizing occasion by the forelock, I drew up
as I came alongside and inquired what he had found to
interest him.

He turned upon me a countenance not much less broad
than his back.

" Why, sir," he replied, " I was even marvelling at my
own indefeasible stupeedity : that I should walk this way
every week of my life, weather permitting, and should
never before have not t iced that stone," touching it at the
same time with a goodly oak staff.

I followed the indication. The stone, which had been
built sideways into the wall, offered traces of heraldic
sculpture. At once there came a wild idea into my mind :
his appearance tallied with Flora's description of Mr. Rob-
bie ; a knowledge of heraldry would go far to clinch the
proof; and what could be more desirable than to
scrape an informal acquaintance with the man whom I
must approach next day with my tale of the drovers, and
whom I yet washed to please ? I stooped in turn.

"A chevron," I said; ''on a chief three mullets?
Looks like Douglas, does it not ? "

" Yes, sir, it does ; you are right," said he : " it does
look like Douglas ; though, without the tinctures, and the

286

ST. IVES

m '• !

whole thing being so battered and broken up, who shall
venture an opinion ? But allow me to be more personal,
sir. In these degenerate days I am astonished you siiould
display so much proficiency."

" 0, I was well grounded in my youth by an old gentle-
man, a friend of my family, and I may say my guardian,"
said I; "but I have forgotten it since. God forbid 'l
should delude you into thinking me a herald, sir ! I am
only an uugrammatical amateur."

"And a little modesty does no harm even in a herald,"
says my new acquaintance graciously.

In short, we fell together on our onward way, and main-
tamed very amicable discourse along what remained of the
country road, past the suburbs, and on into the streets of
the New Town, which was as deserted and silent as a city of
the dead. The shops were closed, no vehicle ran, cats
sported in the midst of the sunny causeway ; and onr
steps and voices re-echoed from the quiet houses. It was
the high-water, full and strange, of that weekly trance to
M the city of Edinburgh is subjected : the apotheosis
of the Scmbath ; and I confess the spectacle wanted not
grandeur, however much ifc may have lacked cheerfulness.
ihere are few religious ceremonies more imposing. As we
thus walked and talked in a public seclusion, the bells,
broke out ringing through all the bounds of the city, and
the streets began immediately to be thronged with decent
church-goers.

"Ah !" said my companion, "there are the bells f Now
sir, as you are a stranger, I must offer you the hospitality
of my pew. I do not know whether you are at all used with-
our Scottish form ; but in case you are not, I will find
your places for you ; and Dr. Henry Gray, of St. Mary's,
(under whom I sit), is as good a preacher as we have^ta
show you."

THK SA15BATII DAY

287

This put me in a quaiularj. It was a degree of risk I
was scarce prei)ared for. Dozens of people, who might
pass me by in tlie street with no more than a second look,
would go on from tlie second to the third, and fi-om that
to a final recognition, if I were set before them, immobil-
ised in a pew, during the whole time of service. An un-
lucky turn of the head would suffice to arrest their
attention. '• Who is that 'i" they would think : -Surely,
I should know him !" and, a church being the place in
all the world where one has least to think of, it was ten to
one they would end by remembering me before the bene-
diction. However, my mind was made up : J thanked my
obhgmg fri<3nd, and placed myself at his disposal.

Our way now led us into the north-east quarter of the
town, among pleasant new faubourgs, to a decent new
churcli of a good size, where I was soon seated by the side
of my good Samaritan, and looked upon by a whole con-
gregation of menacing faces. At first the possibility of
danger kept me awake ; but by the time I had assured my-
self there was none to be apprehended, and the service was
not in the least likely to be enlivened by the arrest of a
French spy, I had to resign myself to the task of liateninff
to Dr. Henry Gray.

As we moved out, after this ordeal was over, my friend
was at once surrounded and claimed by his acquaintance
of the congregation ; and I was rejoiced to hear )iim ad-
dressed by the expected name of Robbie.

So soon as we were clear of the crowd—" Mr. Robbie ?"
said I, bowing.

" The very same, sir," said he.

" If I mistake not, a lawyer ? "

"A writer to his Majesty's Signet, at your service."

" It seems we were predestined to be acquaintances 1 " I

exclanned. "I have here a card in my pocket intended

288

ST. IVES

for you. It IS from my family lawyer. It was his last
word, as I was leaving, to sisk to be remembered kindly
iind to trust you would pass over so informal an introduc-
tion."

And I offered him the card.

"Ay, ay, my old friend Daniel ! " says he, looking on
the card. '' And how does my old friend Daniel .' "

I gave a favourable view of xMr. Komaine's health.
Well, tliis is certainly a whimsical incident," he con-
tmued. -And since we are thus met already— and so
much to my advantage !— the simplest thing will be to
prosecute the acquaintance instantly. Let me propose a
snack between sermons, a bottle of my particular green
seal-and when nobody is looking, we can talk blazons
Mr. Dulcie ! "-wliich was the name I then used and had
already mcidentally mentioned, in the vain hope of pro-
voking a return in kind.

*' I beg your pardon, sir : do I understand you to invite
me to your house ?" said I.

"That was the idea I was trying to convey," said he.
' We have the name of hospitable people up here, and I
would like you to try mine."

"Mr. Robbie, I shall hope to try it some day, but not
yet, I replied. - 1 hope you will not misunderstand me.
My business, which brings me to your city, is of a peculiar
kind, iill you shall have heard it, and, indeed, till its
issue is known, I should feel as if I had stolen your
invitation." "^

''Well, well," said he, a little sobered, "it must be as
you wish, though you would hardly speak otherwise if you
had committed homicide I Mine is the loss. I must eat
alone ; a very pernicious thing for a person of mv habit of
body, content myself with a pint of skinking claret, and
meditate the discourse. But about this business of yours ;

THE SABBATH DAY

289

if it is so parteicnlar as all that, it will doubtless admit of
no delay."

"I must confess, sir, it presses," I acknowledged.
"Then, let us say to-morrow at half-past eight in tho
morning," said he ; "and I hope, when your mind is at
rest (and it does you much honour to take it as you do),
that you will sit down with mo to tlie postponed meal, not
forgetting the bottle. You have my address ? " he added,
and gave it me— which was the only thing I wanted.

At last, at the level of York Place, we parted with
mutual civilities, and I was free to pursue my way, through
the mobs of people returning from church, to my lodgings
in St. James's Square.

Almost at tho house door, whom should I overtake ?ut
my landlady in a dress of goi-geous severity, and dragging
a prize in her wake : no less than Rowley, with the cockade
in his hat, and a smart pair of tops to his boots ! When I .
said he was in the lady's wake, I spoke but in metaphor.
As a matter of fact, he was squiring her, with the utmost
dignity, on his arm ; and I followed them up the stairs,
smiling to myself.

Botli were quick to salute mo as soon as I was perceived,
and Mrs. McRankine inquired where I had been. I told
her boastfully, giving her the name of the church and the
divine, and ignorantly supposing I should have gained
caste. But she soon opened my eyes. In the roots of the
Scottish character there are knots and contortions that not
only no stranger can understand, but no stranger can fol-
low ; he walks among explosives ; and his best course is to
throw himself upon their mercy— "Just as I am, without
one plea," a citation from one of the lady's favourite hymns.
Tho sound she made was unmistakable in meaning,
though it was impossible to be written down : and I at
once executed the manoeuvre I have recommended
19

290

ST. IVES

_ "You must remember, I am a perfect stranger in your
city," said I. " If I Jiave done wrong, \i was in mere ig-
norance, my dear lady ; and this afternoon, if you will be
so good as to take me, I shall accompany yon."

But she was not to be pacified at the moment, and de-
parted to her own quarters murmuring.

"AVell, Kowley," said Ij "and have you been to
church ?"

" If you please, sir," he said.

" Well, you have not been any less unlucky than I have,"
I returned. ''And how did you get on with the Scottish
form ?"

" Well, sir, it was pretty 'ard, the form was, and reethcr
narrow," he replied. - I don't know w'y it is, but it seems
to me like as if things were a good bit changed since Will-
iam Wallace ! That was a main queer church she took me to,
Mr. Anne ! I don't know as I could have sat it out, if slio
'adn't V give me peppermints. She ain't a bad one at bot-
tom, the old girl ; she do pounce a bit, and sho do worry, but,
law bless you, Mr. Anne, it ain't nothink really— she don't
mean it. W'y, she was down on mo like a 'u ml red weight
of bricks this morning. You see, last night she 'ad me in to
supper, and, I beg your pardon, sir, but I took the freedom
of playing her a chune or two. She didn't mind a bit ; so
this morning I began to play to myself, and she flounced
in, and flew up, and carried on no end about Sunday ! "

''You see, Rowley," said I, ''they're all mad up here,
and you have to humour them. See, and don't quarrel
with Mrs. McRankine ; and, above all, don't argue with her,
or you'll get the worst of it. W^hatever she says, touch
your forelock and say, 'If you please !' or 'I beg pardon,
ma'am.' And let me tell you one thing : I am sorry, but
you have to go to church with her again this afternoon.
That's duty, my boy 1 "

TIIK SABBATH DAY

291

As I had foreseen, the bells had scarce begun before Mva.
McRunkine presented lierself to be onr escort, ui)on whicli
I spnmg up with readiness and offered her my arm. Row-
ley followed behind. I was beginning to grow accustomed
to the risks of my stay in Edinburgn, and it even amused
me to confront a new churchf ul. I confess the amusement
did not last until tlio end ; for if Dr. Gray were long, Mr.
McCraw was not only longer, but more incoherent, and
the matter of his sermon (which was a direct attack, ajjpar-
ently, on all the Churches of the world, my own among the
number), where it had not the tonic quality of personal
insult, rather inclined me to slumber. But I braced my-
self for my life, kept up Rowley with the end of a pin, and
came through it awake, but no more.

Bethiah was quite conquered by this "mark of grace,"
though, I am afraid, she was also moved by more worldly
considerations. The first is, the lady had not the least
objection to go to church on the arm of an elegantly dressed
young gentleman, and be followed by a spruce servant with
a cockade in his hat. I could see it by the way she took
possession of us, found us the places in the Bible, whis.
pered to me the name of the minister, passed us lozenges,
which I (for my part) handed on to Rowley, and at each fresh
attention stole a little glance about the church to make
sure she was observed. Rowley was a pretty boy ; you will
pardon me, if I also remembered that I was a favourable-
looking young man. When we grow elderly, how the
room brightens, and begins to look as it ought to look, on
the entrance of youth, grace, health, and comeliness ! You
do not want them for yourself, perhaps not even for your
son, but you look on smiling ; and when you recall their
images— again, it is with a smile. I defy you to see or think
of them and not smile with an infinite and intimate, but
quite impersonal, pleasure. Well, either I know nothing

293

ST. IVES

of women, or tliat was tlie ci***e with Bethiali McHankine.
Mie \uul been to church with a cockade behind Jier, on the
one hand ; on the other, lier liouse was briglitcned by the
presence of a pair of good-looking young fellows of the
other sex, who were always pleased and deferential in hor
society and accepted her views as final.

These were sentiments to be encouraged ; and, on the
way home from church— if church It could be called— I
adopted a most insidious device to magnify her interest. I
took her into the confidence, that is, of my love affair, and
I had no sooner mentioned a young lady with whom my
affections were engaged than she turned upon me a face of
awful gravity.

" Is she bonny ? " she inquired.

I gave her full assurances upon that.

" To what denoamination does she beloang ? " came next
and was so unexpected as alnio .1 to deprive me of breath '

" Upon my word, ma'am, I have never inquired," cried I •
"I only know that she is a heartfelt Christian, and that is
enough."

" Ay! " she sighed, - if she has the root of the maitter !
iheres a remnant practically in most of the denoamina-
tions. There's some in the McGlashanites, and some in the
Wassites, and mony in the McMillanites, and there's a
ieeven even in the Estayblishment."

"I have known some very good Papists even, if yon go
to that," said I. j s>

"Mr. Dulcie, think shame to yoursel' !" she .'ried
" Why, my dear mada.^i ! I only " I began.

" You shouldnae jest in sairious maitters," she inter-
rupted.

^ the whole, she entered into what I chose to tell her
of ou. . '• .; wiU, avidity, like a cat licking her whiskers
over H. t, -. ..f cream ; and, strange to say-and so expan-

IJiinkine.
?r, oil the
erl by the
ws of the
al in her

1, on the
called — I
terest. I
ffair, and
'horn my
a face of

THE SABBATH DAY

3S8

8lv6 a pa«.,on„ that of love !-tl,„t I ,lerivert a „erlm„s
-qnal s„t,rfaol,„n from ,.o„fi,li„g ,•„ t|,„t breast of i'ron
ma. 0 a„ „„„,e,l,„te b„,„I : fro,,, ti,„t 1,„„, „., ,,.„„„, ,„ , ,
wc cle,l ,„t„ „ fa„,ilj. party; a„d I |,a,l litlle ,li„i I , i
r ..,«., ng her to join „s a„,l t„ p,.osi,l„ over o„r lea-ta ,1...

A ... JIc a„k„,e, a,,,) the Vbeo„„t A„„e ! Ii„t I „,„ i
he Apos Ic s way, w.th a .liffercce , all things to all won,!
en; When J finnnnf »^l«o^„ . ^

cravat I

iTri T ■ "" ''""'«« lo ail worn-

\yien I cannot please a woman, hang me in my

me next,
breath.
' cried I ;
d that is

maitter !
oamina-
le in the
here's a

L yoii go

id.

B inter-

tell her

'hiskera

expan-

i!n

ft i

CHAPTER XXVIII

EVENTS OF MONDAY : THE LAWYErV, PARTY

By half-past eight o'clock on the next morning, I was
ringing tlic bell of the lawyer's office in Castle Street, where
I found him ensconced at a business table, in a room sur-
rounded by several tiers of green tin cases. He greeted
me like an old friend.

" Come aAvay, sir, come away ! " said he. '< Here is the
dentist ready for you, and I think I can promise you that
the operation will be practically painless."

"I am not so sure of that, Mr. Robbie," I replied as I
shook hands with him. - But at least there shall be no
time lost with me."

I had to confess to having gone a-roving with a pair of
drovers and their cattle, to having used a false name, to
havmg murdered or half-murdered a fellow-creature in a
scuffle on the moors, and to having suffered a couple of
quite innocent men to lie some time in prison on a charge
trom which I could have immediately freed them. All
tins I gave him first of -11, to be done witli the worst of it •
and all this he took with gravity, but without the least
appearance of surprise.

"Now, sir," I continued, " I expect to have to pay for
my unhappy frolic, but I would like very well if it could
be managed without my personal appearunco or even the
mention of my real name. I liad so much wisdom as to
sail under false colours in this foolish j.-y^nt of mine j my

291

EVENTS OF MONDAY

295

LRTY

ing, I was
reet, wliere
I room sur-
ie greeted

lere is the
ie you that

plied, as I
liall be no

I a pair of
name, to
iture in a
couple of
1 a charge
lem. All
jrst of it ;
the least

3 pay for
it could
even the
om as to
line ; my

family would be extremely concerned if they had wind of
It ; but at the same time, if the case of this Faa has ter-
minated fatally, and there are proceedings against Todd
und Candhsh, I am not going to stand by and see them
vexed, far less punished ; and I autliorise you to give me
up for trial if you think that best-or, if you tiiink it un-
necessary, m the meanwhile to make preparations for tlieir
defence. I hope, sir, that I am as little anxious to be
(.Quixotic, as I am determined to be just."

"Very fairly spoken," said Mr. Ko"bbio. -It is not
much in my line, as doubtless your friend. Mr. liomaim-,
will have told you. I rarely mix myself up witli auythin-
on the criminal side, or approaching it. However, for a
young gentleman like you, I may stretch a point, and I
daresay I may be able to accomplisli more than j.erJiaps
another. I will go at once to the Procurator Fiscal's office
and inquire."

"AVait a moment, Mr. Robbie," said I. -You for-ret
the chapter of expenses. I had thouglit, for a beginning,
ot placing a tiiousand pounds in your hands."

"My dear sir, you will kindly wait until I render you mv
bill, said Mr. Robbie severely.

"It seemed to mo," I protasted, - tliat, coming to you
almost as a stranger, and placing in vour liands a piece of
business so contrary to your habits, some substantial guar-
antee of my good faith "

_ " Xot the way that we do business in Scotland, sir " he
interrupted, with an air of closing the disi)ute

"And yet, Mr. Robbie," I continued, -'I must ask you
to allow me to proceed. I do not merely refer to the ex-
penses of the case. I have my eye besides on Todd and
Camlhsh. They are thoroughly deserving fellows : they
have boon subjected through me to a considerable term of
imprisonment; and I suggest, sir, that you should not

ill!<

296

ST. IVES

if !|:

III

IUjI

spare money for tlieir iiidemnificiition. This will explain/'
I added, smiling, " my offer of the thousand pounds. It
Avas in the nature of a measure by which you should judge
the scale on which I can afford to have this business carried
through.'"

"I take you i)crfectly, Mr. Ducie," said he. "But the
sooner I am off, the better this affair is like to be guided.
My clerk will show you into the waiting-room and give you
the day's Caledonian Mercury and the last Register to
amuse yourself with in the interval."

I believe Mr. Robbie was at least three hours gone. I
saw him descend from a cab at the door, and almost im-
mediately after I was shown again into his study, where
the solemnity of his manner led me to augur the worst.
For some time he had the inhumanity to read me a
lecture as to the incredible silliness, " not to say immor-
ality," of my behaviour. " I have the more satisfaction in
telling you my opinion, because it appears that you are
going to get off soot free," he continued, where, indeed,
I thought he might have begun.

"The man, Faa, has been dischairged cui-ed ; and the
two men, Todd and Candlish, would have been leeberated
long ago, if it had not been for their extraordinary loyalty
to yourself, Mr. Ducie — or Mr. St. Ivey, as I believe I
should now call you. Never a word would either of the
two old fools volunteer that in any manner pointed at the
existence of such a person ; and when they Avere confronted
with Faa's version of the affair, they gave accounts so
entirely discrepant with their own former declarations, as
well as with each other, that the Fiscal was quite non-
plussed, and imaigined there was something behind it.
Vou may believe I soon laughed him out of that ! And I
had the satisfaction of seeing your two friends set free,
and very glad to be on the causeway again."

EVENTS OF MONDAY

ill explain/'
pounds. It
hould judge
iness carried

" But the

be guided.

uidgive you

rs gone. I

almost ini-

tudy, where

the worst.

read me a

say immor-

tisfaetion in

hafc you are

ire, indeed,

d ; and the
I leeberated
lary loyalty
I believe I
:her of the
nted at the
! confronted
iiccounts so
arations, us
quite non-
behind it.
at ! And I
is set free,

297

"0, sir," I cried, ''you should have brought them
here."

*'No instructions, Mr. Ducie ! " said he. "How did I
know you wished to renew an acquaintance which you had
just terminated so fortunately ? And, indeed, to be frank
with you, I should have set my face against it, if you had !
Let them go ! They are paid and contented, and have the
liighest possible opinion of Mr. St. Ivey ! When I gave
them fifty pounds apiece— which was rather more than
enough, Mr. Ducie, whatever you may think—the man
Todd, who has the only tongue of the party, struck his
staff on the ground. ' Weel,' says he, ' I aye said he was a
gentleman ! ' ' Man Todd,' said I, ' that was just what Mr.
St. Ivey said of yourself ! ' "

" So it was a case of ' Compliments fly when gentlefolk
meet.'"

" Xo, no, Mr. Ducie, man Todd and man Candlish are
gojie out of your life, and a good riddance ! They are fine
fellows in their way, but no proper associates for the like
of yourself ; and do you finallyagree to be done with all
eccentricity— take up with no more drovers, or rovers, or
tnikers, but enjoy the naitural pleesures for which your
age, your Avcaltii, your intelligence, and (if I may be allowed
to say it) your appearance so completely fit you. And the
lirsfc of these," quoth he, looking at his watch, " will be to
step through to my dining-room and share a bachelor's
luncheon."

Over the meal, which was good, Mr. Robbie continued
to develop the same theme. "You're, no doubt, what
they call a dancing-man ? " said he. " Well, on Thursday
night there is the Assembly Ball. You must certainly go
there, and you must permit me besides to do the honours
of the ceety and send you a ticket. I am a thorough
believer m a young man being a young man-but no more

'jM.

298

ST. IVES

4 ■!

drovers or rovers, if you love me ! Talking of which puts
me in mind that you may be short of partners at the
Assembly-O, I have been young myself !-and if ye care
to come to anything so portentiously tedious as a tea-partv
at the house of a baclielor lawyer, consisting mainly of his
nieces and nephews, and his grand-nieces and grand-
nephews, and his wards, and generally the whole clan of
the descendants of his clients, you might drop in to-niaht
towards seven o'clock. I think I can show you one or Two
that are worth looking at, and you can dance with them
later on at the Assembly."

He proceeded to give me a sketch of one or two eligible
young ludies whom I might expect to meet. " And then
there s my parteecular friend. Miss Flora/' said he. - But
1 11 make no attempt of a description. You shall see her
for yourself.-"

It will be readily supposed that I accepted his invitat.'on •
and returned home to make a toilette worthy of her I was
to meet and the good news of which I was the bearer. The
toile te, I have reason to believe, was a success. Mr. Row-
ley dismissed me with a farewell: -Crikey! Mr Anne
but you do look prime ! " Even the stony Bethiah was-
how shall I say ?-dazzled, but scandalised, by my appear-
ance ; and while, of course, she deplored the vanity that
led to it, she could not wholly prevent herself from admir-
mg the result.

'; Ay Mr. Ducie, this is a poor employment for a way-
fanng Christian man !" she said. - Wi' Christ despised
and rejectit in all pairts of the world, and the flag of the
Covenant flung doon, you will be muckle better on your
knees However, I'll have to confess that it sets you weel.
And It 1 s the lassie ye're gaun to see the nicht, I suppose
1 11 just have to excuse ye ! Bairns maun be bairns ! " slie

__•! •!! . , " -'"WWII uv^ wmiia ;

said, with a sigh. -I mind when Mr. McRaukine

came

EVENTS OF MONDAY

299

The

conrtin', and that's lang by-gane— I mind I had a green
gown, passementit, that was thocht to become me to admi-
ration. I was nae Just exactly what ye would ca' bonny ;
but I was pale, penetratin', and interestin'." And she
leaned over the stair-rail with a candle to watch my descent
as long as it should be possible.

It was but a little party at Mr. Robbie's— by which, I do
not so much mean that there were few people, for the
rooms wore crowded, as that there was very little attempted
to entertain them. In one apartment there were tables set
out, where the elders were solemnly engaged uiion whist ;
in the other and larger one, a great number of youth of
both sexes entertained themselves languidly, the ladies
sitting upon chairs to be courted, the gentlemen standing
about in various attitudes of insinuation or indifference.
Conversation appeared the sole resource, except in so far as
it was modified by a number of keepsakes and annuals
which lay dispersed upon the tables, and of which the
young beaux displayed the illustrations to the ladies.
Mr. Robbie himself was customarily in the card-room ;
only now and again, when he cut out, he made an in-
cursion among the young folks, and rolled about jovially
from one to another, the very picture of the general
uncle.

It chanced that Flora had met Mr. Robbie in the course
of the afternoon. " ^^ow. Miss Flora," he had said, " come
early, for 1 have a Phoenix to show you~one Mr. Ducie, a
new client of mine that, I vow. I have fallen in love with " ;
and he was i,o good as to add a word or two on my appear-
ance, from which Flora conceived a suspicion of the truth.
She had come to the party, in consequence, on the knife-
edge of anticipation and alarm ; had chosen a place by
the door, whore I found her, on aiy arrival, surrounded by
a posse of vapid youths ; and, when I drew near, sprang

300

ST. IVES

np to meet me in the most natural manner in the world
and, obviously, with a prepared form of words.

'* How do you do, Mr. Dneie ?" she said. "It is quite
an age since I have seen you ! "

"I have much to tell" you. Miss Gilchrist," I replied
"May I sit down ?"

^ For the artful girl, by sitting near tlie door, and the
judicious use of her shawl, had contrived to keep a chair
empty by her side.

She made room for me, as a matter of course, and the
youths had the discretion to melt before us. As soon as I
was once seated her fan flew out, and she whispered behind

''Are yon mad?"

"Madly in love," I replied ; "but in no other sense."

'' I have no patience ! You cannot understand what I

am suffering ! " she said. " What are you to say to Ron-

aid, to Major Chevenix, to my aunt ? "

" Your aunt ? " I cried, with a start. " Peccavi! is she
here ?"

" She is in the card-room at whist," said Flora.
"Where she will probably stay all the evening?" I sug-
gested. ^

" She may," she admitted ; " she generally does ! "
"Well, then, I must avoid the card-room," said I
"which is very much what I had counted upon doing I
did not come here to play cards, but to contemplate a cer-
tain young lady to my heart's content— if it can ever be
contented !— and to tell her some good news."

"But there are still Ronald and the Major!" she per-
sisted. " They are not card-room lixtures ! Ronald will '

be coming and going. And as for Mr. Chevenix, he "

" Always sits with Miss Flora ? " I interrupted. "And
they talk of poor St. Ives ? I had gathered as much,' my

EVENTS OF MONDAY

301

dear; and Mr. Ducie has come to prevent it ! But pray
dismiss these fears ! I mind no one hut your aunt."

"Why my aunt?"

" Because your aunt is a hidy, my dear, and a very
clever lady, and, like all clever ladies, a very rasli lady,"
said I. " You can never count upon them, unless you are
sure of getting them in a corner, as I have got you, and
talking them over rationally, us I am just engaged" on with
yourself ! It would be quite the same to your aunt to
make the worst kind of a scandal, witii an equal indiffer-
ence to my danger and to the feelings of our good host ! "

" Well," she said, "and what of Ronald, tlien? Do you
think he is above making a scandal ? You must know him
very little ! "

" On the other hand, it is my pretension that I know
him very well!'' I replied. "I must speak to Ronald
first — not Ronald to me— that is all ! "

" Then, please, go and speak to him at once ! " she
pleaded. " He is there— do you see ?— at the upper end of
the room, talking to that girl in pink."

" And so lose this seat before I have told you my good
news?" I exclaimed. " Catch me ! And, besides, my
dear one, think a little of me and my good news ! I thouo-ht
the bearer of good news was always welcome ! I hoped he
might b9 a little welcome for himself ! Consider ! I have
but one friend ; and let me stay by her ! And there is only
one thing I care to hear ; and let me hear it ! "

'0, Anne," she sighed, "if I did not love you, why
should I be so uneasy ? I am turned into a coward, dear !
Think, if it Avere the other way round— if you were quite
safe and I was in, 0 such danger ! "

She had no sooner said it than I was convicted of being
a dullard. " God forgive me, dear ! " I made haste to re-
J)ly, " I never saw before that there were two sides to

802

ST. IVES

this ! " And I told her my tale as briefly as I could, and
rose to seek Ronald. " You see, my dear, you are obeyed,"
I said.

She gave me a look that was a reward in itself ; and as I
turned away from her, with a strong sense of turning away
from the sun, I carried that look in my bosom like a caress.
The gir' in pink was an arch, ogling person, with a good
deal of eyes and teeth, and a great play of shoulders and
rattle of conversation. There could be no doubt, from
Master Konald's attitude, that he worshipped the very
chair she sat on. But I was quite ruthless. I laid my hand
on his shoulder, as he was stooping over her like a hen
over a chicken.

"Excuse me for one moment, Mr. Gilchrist ! '' said I.

lie started and span about in answer to my touch, and
exhibited a face of inarticulate wonder.

"Yes ! " I continued, " it is even myself ! Pardon me
for interrupting so agreeable a telc-d-llte, but you know,
my good fel'ow, we owe a first duty to Mr. Robbie. It
would never do to risk making a scene in the man's draw-
ing-room ; so the first thing I had to attend to was to have
you warned. The name I go by is Ducie, too, in case of
accidents."

" I— I say, you know ! " cried Ronald. ** Deuce take it,
what are you doing here ? "

" Hush, hush ! "■ said I. " Not the place, my dear fellow
—not the place. Come to my rooms, if you like, to-night
after the party, or to-morrow in the morning, and we can
talk it out over a cigar. But here, you know, it really
won't do at all."

Before he could collect his mind for an answer, I had
given him my address in St. James's Square, and had
again mingled with the crowd. Alas ! I was not fated to
get back to Flora so easily I Mr. Robbie was in the path :

EVP:NTS of MONDAr

803

he was insatiably loquacious ; and as ho continued to pala-
ver I watolied the insipid youtlis gather again about my
idol, and cursed my fate and my host. He romeuibered
suddenly that I was to attend the Assembly Ball on Thurs-
day, and had only attended to-night by way of a prepara-
tive. This put it into his bead to present nie to anotber
young lady ; but I managed tins interview with so much
art that, while I was scrupulously polite and even cordial
to the fair one, I contrived to keep Robbie beside me all
the time and to leave along with him when the ordeal was
over. We were just walking away arm in arm, when I
spied my friend the Major approaching, stiff as a ramrod
and, as usual, obtrusively clean.

" 0 ! there's a man i want to know," said I, taking
the bull by the horns. " Won't you introduce me to Ma-
jor Chevenix ? "

"At a word, my dear fellow," said Robbie ; and " Ma-
jor ! " he cried, " come here and let me present to you
my friend Mr. Ducie, who desires the honour of your ac-
quaintance."

The Major flushed visibly, but otherwise preserved his
composure. lie bowed very low. "I'm not very sure,"
he said : " I have an idea we have met before ?"

" Informally," I said, returning his bow; "and I bave
long looked forward to the pleasure of regularising our ac-
quaintance."

" You are very good, Mr. Ducie," he returned. " Per-
haps you could aid my memory a little ? Where was it
that I had the pleasure ? "

"0, that would be telling tales out of school," said I,
with a laugh, " and before my lawyer, too !"

"I'll wager," broke in Mr. Robbie, "that, when you
knew my client, Chevenix, the past of our friend Mr.
Duci( is an obscure chapter full of horrid secrets. I'll

304

ST. IVES

wager now you knew ]mn as St. Ivey/' .ays he, nndging
me violently. ^ *'

llV^T^r "°*^' ''"'" '""''^ ^''^ '^^''J°'^ ^'^'^ P"ichecl lips.
VVell, I wish he may prove all right ! " continued the
lawyer, with certainly the worst-inspired jocularitv in the
world. "I know nothing by him! lie may be a swell
mobsman for me with his aliases. You must put your
memory on the rack, Major, and when ye've remembered
when and where ye mot him, be sure ye tell me "

"I will not fail, sir," said Chcvenix.

"Seek to him l" cried Robbie, waving his hand as he
departed.

The Major, as soon as we were alone, turned upon me
nis impassive countenance.

" AVell," he said, "you have courage."

"It is undoubted as your honour, sir,'' I returned,
bowuig. '

" Did you expect to meet me, may I ask ?" said he
said T" ''''''' ""^ ^^''^^' ^^'''^ ^ """''^^'^ ^^'^' Pi-esentation,"

" And you were not afraid ? " said Chevenix.

''I was perfectly at ease. I knew I was dealing with a
gentleman. Be that your epitaph."

'' Well, there are some other people looking for you "
he said -who will make no bones about the point of hon-

''"f; A J't P,°^'f ' "^^ '^^'"' '"■' ^'^ '™P'y ''Sog about you.-
And I think that that was coarse," said I.

_ "You have seen Miss Gilchrist ?" he inquired, chang-
ing the subject. ^

_ " With whom, I am led to understand, we are on a foot-
"ig of rivalry ? " I asked. - Yes. I have seen her."

" And I was just seeking her," he replied.

I was conscious of a certain thrill of temper; so, I sup.
Jose, was he. We looked each other up and down.

EVENTS OP MONDAY

805

*' The situation is original," he resumed.

" Quite," said I. "But let me tell you frankly you are
blowing a cold coal. I owe you so much for your kind-
ness to the prisoner Champdivers."

"lAIeaning that the lady's affections are more advan-
tageously disposed of ?" he asked, with a icer. '• Thank
you, I am sure. And, since you have given me a lead,
just hear a word of good advice in your turn. Is it fair,
is it delicate, is it like a gentleman, to compromise the
young lady by attentions which (as you know very well)
can come to nothing ? "

I was utterly unable to tind words in answer.

"Excuse me if I cut this interview short," he went on.
" It seems to me doomed to come to nothing, and there is
more attractive metal."

"Yes," I replied, "as you say, it cannot amount to
much. You are impotent, bound hand and foot in honour.
You know me to be a man falsely accused, and even if you
did not know it, from your position as my rival you
have only the choice to stand quite still or to be infiimoiis."

"I would not say that," he returned, with another
change of colour. " I may hear it once too often."

With which he moved off straight for where Flora was
sitting amidst her court of vapid youths, and I had no
choice but to follow him, a bad second, and reading my-
self, as I went, a sharp lesson on the command of tem-
per.

It is a strange thing how young men in their teens go
down at the mere wind of the coming of men of twenty-
five and upwards ! The vapid ones fled without thought
of resistance before the Major and me; a few dallied awhile
in the neighbourhood— so to speak, with their fingers in
their months— but presently these also followed the rout,
and we remained face to face before Flora. There was a
20

ST. IVES

(Imuglit 111 tliat corner by tl,o door ; she had thrown her
pehs^oovor her bare urms and neck, and the dark fur of
the trimnnng set them off. She shone by contrast ; the
light phiyed on lier smootli skin to admiration, and tlio
colour clianged in her excited face. For the least fraction
of a second she looked from one to the other of her pair of
rival swains, and seemed to hesitate. Then she addressed
Uneven IX : —

"You are coming to the Assembly, of course, Major
Chevenix ?" said she. ''

" I fear not ; I fear I shall be otherwise engaged," he
replied. -Even the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss
i'iora, must give way to duty."

For awhile the talk ran liarmlessly on the weather, and
then branched off towards the war. It seemed to be by
no one s fault ; it was in the air, and had to come.

- "Good news from the scene of operations," said the
Major.

"Good news while it lasts," I said. -But will Miss
Uilchrist tell us her private thought upon the war ? In
her admiration for the victors, does not there mingle some
pity for the vanquished ?"

"Indeed, sir," she said, with animation, - only too much
of It War IS a subject that I do not think should be
talked of to a girl. I am, I have to be-what do you call
It —a non-combatant ? And to remind me of what others
nave to do and suffer : no, it is not fair ! "

"Miss Gilchrist has the tender female heart," said Chev-
enix.

"Do not be too sure of that!" she cried. "I would
love to be allowed to fight myself !"
"On which side?" I asked.
_J^'Can you ask?" she exclaimed. -I am a Scottish

EVENTS OF MONDAY

307

"She is a Soottiah girl !" repcuted the Major, Iookiii„'
lit me. " And no one griulgerf you her pity ! "

" And I glory in every grain of it she has to spare," said
I. " Pity is akin to love."

"Well, and let us put that question to Miss Gilchrist.
It is for her to decide, and for us to bow to the decision.
Is pity. Miss Flora, or is admiration, nearest love ?"

" 0, come," said I, *• let us be more concrete. Lay be-
fore the lady a complete case : describe your man, then I'll
describe mine, and Miss Flora shall decide."

" I think I see your meaning," said he, " and I'll try.
You think that pity — ami the kindred sentiments — have
the greatest power upon tlie heart. I think more nobly of
women. To my view, the man they love will first of all
command their respect ; he will be steadfast— proud, if
you please; dry, possibly— but of all things steadfast.
They will look at him in doubt ; at last they will see that
stern face which he presents to all the rest of the world
soften to them alone. First, trust, I say. It is so that a
woman loves who is worthy of heroes."

"Your man is very ambitious, sir," said I, "and very
much of a hero ! Mine is a humbler, and, I would fain
think, a more human dog. He is one with no particular
trust in himself, with no superior steadfastness to be ad-
mired for, who sees a lady's face, who hears her voice, and,
without any phrase about the matter, falls in love. \\ hat
does he ask for, then, but pity ? — pity for his weakness^
pity for his love, which is his life. You would make women
always the inferiors, gaping up at your imaginary lover ;
he, like a marble statue, with his nose in the air ! But God
has been wiser than you ; and the most steadfast of your
heroes may prove human, after all. We appeal to the
queen for judgment," I added, turning and bowing before
Flora.

■i

mil

308

ST. IVES

*'And how shall the queen judge?" she asked. «I
must give you an answer that is no answer at all. ' The
wind bloweth where it listeth ' : she goes where her heart
goes."

Her face flushed as she said it ; mine also, for I read in
It a declaration, and my heart swelled for joy. But Chev-
enix grew pale.

" You make of life a very dreadful kind of a lottery
ma am," said he. - But I will not despair. Honest and
unornamental is still my choice."

And I must say he looked extremely handsome and very
umusmgly like the marble statue with its nose in the air to
which I had compared him.

" I cannot imagine how we got upon this subject," said
-b lora.

"Madam, it was through the war," replied Chevenix
*' All roads lead to Rome," I commented. " What else
would you expect Mr. Chevenix and myself to talk of ?"

About this time I was conscious of a certain bustle and
niovement in the room behind me, but did not pay to it
that degree of attention which perhaps would have been
wise. There came a certain change in Flora's face : she
signalled repeatedly with her fan ; her eyes appealed to me
obsequiously ; there could be no doubt that she wanted
something-as well as I could make out, that I should go
away and leave the field clear for my rival, which I had not
the least idea of doing. At last she rose from her chair
with impatience.

"I think it time yon were saying good-night, Mr.
Ducie!" she said.

I could not in the least see why, and said so.

Whereupon she gave me this appalling answer <' My
aunt IS coming out of the card-room." '

In less time than it takes to tell, I had made my bow

EVENTS OF MONDAY

isked. « I

all. ' The

her lieart

r I read in
But Chev-

a lottery,
honest and

309

and my escape. Looking back from the doorway, I was
privileged to see, for a moment, the august profile and gold
eyeglasses of Miss Gilchrist issuing from the card-room ;
and the sight lent me wings. I stood not on the order of
my going ; and a moment after, I was on the pavement of
Castle Street, and the lighted windows shone down on me,
and were crossed by ironical shadows of those who had re-
mained behind.

;a«!

J and very
the air to

ject," said

evenix.
iVhat else
Ik of ? "
ustle and
pay to it
lave been
face ; she
led to me
3 wanted
should go
t had not
her chair

^ht, Mr.

r, ''My
my bo\r

^■m^

« ;

CHAPTER XXIX

:i '

EVENTS OF TUESDAY : THE TOILS CLOSING

This day begun with a suriirise. I found a letter on my
breakfast-table addressed to Edward Ducie, Esquire ; and
at first I was startled beyond measure. " Cor science doth
make cowards of us all ! " When I had opened it, it
proved to be only a note from the lawyer, enclosing a card
for the Assembly Ball on Thursday evening. Shortly after,
as I was composing my mind with a cigar at one of the
windows of the sitting-room, and Rowley, having finished
the light share of work that fell to him, sat not far off
tootling with great spirit and a marked preference for tlie
upper octave, Ronald was suddenly shown in. I got him
a cigar, drew in a chair to the side of the fire, and installed
him there— I was going to say, at his ease, but no expres-
sion could be fartlier from the truth. He was plainly on
pins and needles, did not know whether to take or to re-
fuse the cigar, and, after he had taken it, did not know
whether to light or to return 't. I saw he had something
to say ; I did not think it was his own something ; and I
was ready to offer a large bet it was really something of
Major Chevenix^s.

*' Well, and so here you are ! " I observed, with pointless

cordiality, for I was bound I should do nothing to help

him out. If he were, indeed, here running errands for my

rival, he might have a fair field, but certainly no favour.

" The fact is," ho began, *•' I would rather see you alone.*

310

EVENTS OP TUESDAY

311

jtter on my
quire ; and
Mence doth
uied it, it
sing a card
ortly after,
one of the
ig finished
act far off
ace for the
I got him
d installed
no expres-
plainly on
B or to re-
not know
something
ng ; and I
lething of

1 pointless
ig to help
ids for my
favour,
ou alone.*

''Why, certainly," I replied. "Rowley, you can step
into the bedroom. My dear fellow," I continued, "this
sounds serious. Nothing wrong, I trust."

" Well, I'll be quite honest," said he. " I am a good
deal bothered.

" And I bet I know why !" I exclaimed. " And I bet I
can put you to rights, too ! "

" What do you mean ? " he asked.
"You must be hard up," said I, "and all I can say is,
you've come to the right place. If you have the least
use for a hundred pounds, or any such trifling sum as that,
please mention it. It's here, quite at your service."

"I am sure it is most kind of you," said Ronald, "and
tlie truth is, though I can't think liow you guessed it, that
I really am a little behind board. But I haven't come to
talk about that."

" No, I daresay ! " cried I. " Not worth talking about !
But remember, Ronald, you and I are on different sides of
tiie busiriess. Remember that you did me one of those
services that make men friends for ever. And since I have
had the fortune to come into a fair sluire of money, just
oblige me, and consider so much of it as your own."

" No," he said, " I couldn't take it ; I couldn't, really.
Besides, the fact is, I've come on a very different matter.
It's about my sister, St. Ives," and he shook his head men-
acingly at me.

" You're quite sure ? " I persisted. " It's here, at your
service— up to five hundred pounds, if you like. Well, all
right ; only remember where it is, when you do want it."
" 0, please let me alone ! " cried Ronald : " I've come
to say something unpleasant ; and how on earth can I do
it, if you don't give a fellow a chance ? It's about my sis-
ter, as I said. You can see for yourself that it can't be
allowed to go on. It's compromising ; it don't lead to

lil :

1,1 1! I^

312

ST. IVES

anything ; and yon're not the kind of man (yon must feel
it yourself) that I can allow my female relaUves to have
anything to do with. I hate saying this, St. Ives ; it looks
like hitting a man when he's down, you know ; I told the
Major 1 very much disliked it from the first. However, it
had to be said ; and now it has been, and, between gentle-
men, it shouldn't be necessary to refer to it again."

" It's compromising ; it doesn't lead to anything ; not
the kind of man," I repeated thoughtfully. " Yes, I be-
lieve I understand, and shall make haste to put myself en
regie." I stood up, and laid ray cigar down. ''Mr. Gil-
christ,'' said I, with a bow, " in answer to your very natu-
ral observations, J beg to offer myself as a suitor for your
sister's hand. I am a man of title, of which we think
lightly in France, but of ancient lineage, which is every-
where prized. I can display thirty-two quarterings with-
out a blot. My expectations are certainly above the aver-
age : I believe my uncle's income averages about thirty
thousand pounds, though I admit I was not careful to in'-
form myself. Put it anywhere between fifteen and fifty
thousand ; it is certainly not less."

" All this is very easy to say," said Ronald, with a pity-
ing smile. " Unfortunately, tiiese things are in the air."
"Pardon me,- -in Buckinghamshire," said I, smiling.
" Well, what 1 mean is, my dear St. Ives, that you can't
prove them," he continued. ''They might just as well
not be : do you follow me ? Yon can't bring us any third
party to back you up."

" 0, come ! " cried I, springing up and hurrying to the
table. " You must excuse me ! " I wrote Romaine's ad-
dress. " There is my reference, Mr. Gilchrist. Until you
have written to him, and received his negative ai ^wer, I
have a right to be treated, and I shall see that you treat
me, as a geutlen;au."

EVENTS OF TUESDAY

313

must feel
!S to have

; it looks
I told the
owever, it
m gentle-
i."

ling ; not
Yes, I be-
nyself en
'Mr. Gil-
3ry natu-

for your
we think

is every-
igs with-
the aver-
ut thirty
ful to in-
and fifty

h a pity-
;he air."
niling.
fou can't
as well
-ny third

ig to the
ine's ad-
Fntil you
t 'wer, I
ou treat

He was brought up with a round turn at that.

**I beg your pardon, St. Ives," said he. " Believe me,
I had no wish to be offensive. But there's the difficulty
of this affair ; I can't make any of my points witliout
offence ! You must excuse me, it's not my fault. But, at
any rate, you must see for yourself this proposal of mar-
riage is — is merely impossible, my dear fellow. It's non-
sense ! Our countries are at war ; you are a prisoner."

"My ancestor of the time of the Ligue," I replied,
*' married a Huguenot lady out of the Saintonge, riding
two hundred miles through an enemy's country to bring
off his bride ; and it was a happy marriage."

" Wei' ! " he began ; and then looked down into the fire,
and became silent.

" Well ? " I asked.

" Well, there's this business of — Goguelat," said he, still
looking at the coals in the grate.

" What ! " I exclaimed, starting in my chair. " What's
that you say ? "

" This business about Goguelat," he repeated.

*' Ronald," said I, " this is not your doing. These are
not your own words. I know where they came from : a
coward put them in your mouth."

" St. Ives ! " he cried, " why do you make it so hard for
me ? and where's the use of insulting otlie people ? The
plain English is, thiit I can't hear of any \ oposal of mar-
riage from a man under a charge like that. You must see it
for yourself, man ! It's the most absurd thing I ever heard
of ! And you go on forcing me to argue with you, too ! "

'• Because I have had an affair of honour which termi-
nated unhappily, you — a young soldier, or next-dooi to it —
refuse my offer ? Do I understand you aright ? " said I.

"My dear fellow ! " he wailed, " of course you can twist
my words, if you like. You sai/ it was an affair of honour.

314

ST. IVES

Well, I can't, of course, toll you tliat— I can't I mean,

you must see that that's just the point ! Was it ? I don't
know."

" I have the honour to inform you," said I.

'' Well, other people say the reverse, you see ! "

" They lie, Ronald, and I will prove it in time."

" The short and the long of it iy, that any man who is so
unfortunate as to have such things said about him is not
the man to be my brother-in-law ! " he cried.

" Do you know who will be my first witness at the
court ? Arthur Chevenix ! " said I.

" I don't care !" he cried, rising from his chair and be-
ginning to pace outrageously about the room. " What do
you mean, St. Ives ? What is this about ? It's like a
dream, I declare ! You made an offer, and I have refused
it. I don't like it, I don't want it ; and whatever I did,
or didn't, wouldn't matter— my aunt wouldn't hear of it
anyway ! Can't you take your answer, man ? "

" You must remember, Ronald, that we are playing
with edged tools," said I. " An offer of marriage is a deli-
cate subject to handle. You have refused, and you have
justified your refusal by several statements. First, that I
was an impostor ; second, that our countries were at war ;
and third No, I will speak," said I ; "you can an-
swer when I have done,— and third, that I had dishonoura-
bly killed — or was said to have done so — the man Gogue-
lat. Now, my dear fellow, these are very awkward grounds
to be taking. From any one else's Hps I need scarce tell
you how I should resent them ; but my hands are tied. I
have so much gratitude to you, without talking of the
love I bear your sister, that you insult me, when you do so,
under the cover of a complete impunity. I must feel the
pain— and I do feel it acutely— I can do nothing to protect
myself."

EVENTS OF TUESDAY

315

the

He had been anxions enough to interrupt me in the be-
ginning ; but now, and after I had ceased, he stood a long
while silent.

"St. Ives," ho said at last, "I think I had better go
away. This has been very irritating. I never at all meant
to say anything of the kind, and I apologise to you. I have
all the esteem for you that one gentleman slioiild have for
another. I only meant to tell you-to show you what had
influenced my mind ; and that, in short, the thing was im-
possible. One thing you may be quite sure of : / shall do
nothing against you. Will you shake hands before I go
away ? " he blurted out.

_ "Yes," said I, "I agree with you— the interview has been
irritating. Let bygones be bygones. Good-bye, Ronald."

"Good-bye, St. Ives!" he returned. " Fm heartily
sorry. " "^

And with that he was gone.

The windows of my own sitting-room looked towards the
north ; but the entrance passage drew its light from the
direction of the square. Hence I was able to observe Ron-
aid s departure, his very disheartened gait, and the fact
that he jas joined, about half-way, by no less a man than
Major Chevenix. At this, I could scarce keep from smil-
ing ; so unpiilatable an interview must be before the pair
of them, and I could hear their voices, clashing like crossed
swords, m that eternal antiphony of "I told you," and "I
told you not." AVithout doubt, they had gained very little
by their visit ; but then I had gained less than nothing,
and had been bitterly dispirited into the bargain. Ronald
liad stuck to his guns and refused me to the last. It was
no news ; but, on the other hand, it could not be contorted
into good news. I was now certain that during my tempo-
rary absence in France, all irons would be put into the fire
and the world turned upside down, to make Flora disown

.-%■ - -

. '' '

I' I I

316

ST. IVES

the obtrusive Frenchman and accept Chevenix. Without
doubt she would resist these instances ; but the tliought of
tliem did not please me, and I felt she should be warned
and prepared for the battle.

It was no use to try to see her now, but I promised
myself early that evening to return to Swaiiston. In the
meantime I had to make all my preparations, and look tlie
coming journey in the face. Here in Edinburgh I was
within four miles of tlie sea, yet the business of approach-
ing random fishermen with my hat in the one hand and a
knife in the other, appeared so desperate, that I saw noth-
ing for it but to retrace my steps over the northern coun-
ties, and knock a second time at the doors of Birchell
Fenn. To do this, money would be necessary ; and after
leaving my paper in the hands of Flora I had still a bal-
ance of about fifteen hundred pounds. Or -ather I may
say I had them and I had them not ; for after my lunch-
eon with Mr. Robbie I had placed the amount, all but
thirty pounds of change, in a bank in George Street, on a
deposit receipt in the name of Mr. Rowley. This I had
designed to be my gift to him, in case I must suddenly
depart. But now, thinking better of the arrangement I
despatched my little man, cockade and all, to lift the fif-
teen hundred.

He was not long gone, and returned with a flushed face
and the deposit receipt still in his hand.

" No go, Mr. Hann," says he.

"Ho^v's that?" I inquired.

" Well, sir, I found the place all right, and no mis-
take said he. -But I tell you wot gave me a blue
fright I There was a customer standing by the door, and
I reckonised him ! Who do you think it was, Mr. Anne :
Wy, that same Red-Breast-him I had breakfast with near
Aylesbury."

EVENTS OF TUESDAY

317

" You are sure yon are not mistaken r " I asked

-Certain sure," he replied. - Not Mr. Lavender I
don t mean, sir ; I mean the otlier party. ' Wot's he doin'
liere ? says I. ' It don't look right.' "

" Not by any means," I agreed.

I walked to and fro in the apartment reflecting This
particular Bow Street runner might be here by accident :
but It was to imagine a singular play of coincidence that
he who had met Rowley and spoken with him in the
Green Dragon," hard by Aylesbury, should be now in
Scotland where he could have no legitimate business,
and by the doors of the bank where Rowley kept his ac-
cou n t.

" Rowley," said I, - he didn't see you, did he ^ "

" Never a fear," quoth Rowley. - W'y, Mr. Anne, sir,

Jf he ad you wouldn't have seen me any more ! I ain't a

iiass, sir ! "

" Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pock-
et. You 11 have no more use for it till you're quite clear
of me Don't lose it, though ; it's your share of the
t hnstmas-box : fifteen hundred pounds all for vour-

self," . "^

" Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne, sir, but wot for ^"
said Rowley.

" To set up a public-house upon," said I.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I ain't got any call to set up
a public-house, sir," he replied stoutlv. '' And 1 tell you
wot, sir, it seems to me I'm reether "young for the billet
I m your body servant, Mr. Anne, or else I'm nothink "

"Well, Rowley," I said, - I'll tell you what it's for.
It 8 for the good service you have done me, of which I
don t care-and don't dare-to speak. It's for vonr InvaUv
and cheerfulness, my dear boy. I had meant it for you";
but to tell you the truth, it's past mending now-it has

318

ST. IVES

to be yours. Since that man is waiting by the banl-, the
money can't be touched until I'm gone."

" Until you're gone, sir ? " re-echoed Rowley. '' You
don't go anywheres without me, I can tell you that, Mr.
Anne, sir ! "

" Yes, my boy," said I, " we are going to part very
soon now ; probably to-morrow. And i'.'s for my sake,
Rowley ! Depend upon it, if there was any reason at al!
for that Bow Street man being at the bank, he was not
there to look out for you. How they could have found
out about the account so early is more than I can fathom ;
some strange coincidence must have played me false ! But
there the fact is ; and, Rowley, I'll not only have to say
farewell to you presently, I'll Imve to ask you to stay in-
doors until I can say it. Remember, my boy, it's only so
that you can serve me now."

" W'y, sir, you say the word, and of course I'll do it ' "
he cried. " ' Nothink by 'alves,' is my motto ! I'm your
man, through thick and thin, live or die, I am ! "

In the meantime there was nothing to be done till towards
sunset. My only chance now was to come again as quickly
as possible to speech of Flora, who was my only practicable
banker; and not before evening was it worth while to
think of that. I might compose myself as well as I was able
over the Caledonian Mercury, with its ill news of the cam-
paign of France and belated documents about the retreat
from Russia ; and, as I sat there by the fire, I was some-
times all awake with anger and mortification at what
I was reft-ding, and sometimes again I would be three
parts asleep as I dozed over the barren items of home
intelligence. " Lately arrived "-this is what I suddenly
stumbled on— "at Dumbreck's Hotel, the Viscount of
Saint- Yves."

((

Rowley," said I.

EVENTS OF TUESDAY

319

"If you please, Mr. Anne, sir/' answered the obsequi-
ous, lowering his pipe. ^

- Come and look at this, my boy," said I, holding out
the paper. b "ut

;; My crikey ! " said he. - That's 'im, sir, sure enough ! "
Sure enough, Rowley," said I. -lie's on the trail.
He has fairly caught up with us. He and this Bow Street
ma) have come together, I would swear. And now here
IS he whole field, quarry, hounds and hunters, all to-
gether in this city of Edinburgh."

"And wot .ire you goin' to do now, sir ? Tell yon wot,
let me take it in 'and, please ! Gimme a minute, and I'll
disguise myself, and go out to this Dum-to this hotel
leastways, sir-and see wot he's up to. You put your
trust m me, Mr. Anne: I'm fly, don't you make no
mi. ake about it. I'm all a-growing and a-blowing, I
am. ^'

" J^ot one foot of you," said I. - Yon are a prisoner,
Kowley, and make up your mind to that. So am I, or next
door to It. I sliowed it you for a caution ; if you go on
the streets, it spells death to me, Kowley."

" If you please, sir," says Rowley.

" Come to think of it," I continued, - you must take a
cold or something. No good of awakening Mrs. McRan-
kine's suspicions."

-A cold ?" he cried, recovering immediately from his
depression. " I can do it, Mr. Anne."

And he proceeded to sneeze and cough and blow his
nose, till I could not restrain myself from smiling.

" 0, I tell you, I know a lot of them dodges," he ob-
served proudly. ^

" Well, they come in very handy," said I.

T ^l^'u ^^\^^l ^"^ ^* '^'"''^ ^""^ '^°^ '^ to <^he old gal, 'adn't
If he asked.

B30

ST. IVES

I told liim, by all mciins ; and he was gone upon the in-
stant, gleeful as thougji to a game of football.

I took up the paper and read carelessly on, my thoughts
engaged with my immediate danger, till I struck on the
next paragraph : —

"In connection with the recen^ horrid murder in the
Castle, we are desired to make public the following intelli-
gence. The soldier, Chainpdivers, is supposed to be in
the neighbourhood of this city, lie is about the middle
height or rather under, of a pleasing; appearance and highly
genteel address. When last heard of he wore a fashion-
able suit of pearl-grey, and boots with fawn-coloured tops.
He is accompanied by a servant aLout sixteen years of age,
speaks English without any accent, and passed under the
alias of Ramornie. A reward is offered for his appre-
hension."

In a moment I Avas in the next room, stripping from mo
the pearl-coloured suit !

I confess I was now a good deal agitated. It is difficult
to watch the toils closing slowly and surely about you, and
to retain your composure ; and I was glad that Rowley
was not present to spy on /ny confusion. I was flushed,
my breath came thick ; I cannot remember a time when I
was more put out.

And yet I must wait and do Jiothing, and partake of my
meals, and entertain the ever-garrulous Rowley, as though
I were entirely my own man. And if I did not require to
entertain Mrs. McRankine also, that was but another drop
Oi bitterness in my cup ! For what ailed my landlady,
that 3he should hold herself so severely aloof, that she
should refuse conversation, that her eyes should be red-
dened, that I should so continually hear the voice of her
private supplications sounding through the house ? I was
much deceived. ir she had read the insidious paragraph

EVENTS OF TUESDAY

821

and recognised the comminated pearl-grey suit. I re-
membered now a certain air \\itli which she had laid the
paper on my table, and a certain sniff. Ix'tween sympathy
and defiance, with which she had announced it : " There's
your Jfercii>->f for ye ! "

In this direction, at least, T saw no pressing danger ;
her tragic countenance betokened agitation ; it was plain
she was wrestling with her conscience, and the battle still
hung dubious. The question of what to do troubled me
extremely. I could not venture to touch such an intricate
and mysterious piece of nuichinery as my landlady's spirit-
ual nature ; it might go off at a word, and in any direction,
like a badly-made firework. And while I i)raised myself
extremely for my wisdom in the past, that I had made so
much a friend of her, I was all ab/'>ad as to my conduct in
the present. Tiiere seemeu .ui equal danger in i)ressing
and in neglecting tli. .ciistoiued marks of familiarity.
The one extreme looked like impudence, and might an-
noy ; the other was a practical confession of guilt. Alto-
gether, it was a goc.l hour for me when the dusk began to
fall in earnest on the streets of Edinburgh, and the voice
of an early wntchman bade me set forth.

I reached the neighbourhood of the cottage before seven ;
and as I breasted the steep ascent which leads to the gar-
den wall, I was struck with surprise to hear a dog. Dogs
I had heard before, but only from the hamlet on the hill-
side above. IS'ow, this dog was in the garden itself, M'here
it roared aloud in paroxysms of fury, and I could hear it
leaping and straining on the chain. I waited some while,
until the brute's fit of passion had roared itself out. Then,
with the utmost precaution, I drew near again, and finally
approached the garden wall. So soon as I had clapped my
head above the level, however, the barking broke forth
again with redoubled energy. Almost at the same time^,
21

*^p«nmnBVMMH

322

ST. IVKS

the door of the cottage opened, iind Eonald and the Major
appeared upon the threshold with a lantern. As they so
stood, they were almost immediately below me, strongly
illuminated, and within easy earshot. The Major paci-
fied the dog, who took instead to low, uneasy growling in-
termingled witli occasional yelps.

'' Good thing I brought Towzer ! " said Chevenix.

''Damn him, I wonder where he is !" said Ronald ; and
he moved the lantern up and down, and turned the night
into a shifting puzzle-work of gleam and shadow. "I
think I'll make a sally."

" I don't think you will," replied Chevenix. " When I
agreed to come out here and do sentry-go, it was on one
condition. Master Ronald : don't you forget that ! Mili-
tary discipline, my boy ! Our beat is this path close about
the house. Down, Towzer ! good boy, good boy-gently,
then ! he went on, caressing his confounded monster.

" To think ! The beggar may be hearing us this min-
ute ! " cried Ronald.

"Nothing more probable," said the Major. "You
there, St. Ives ?" he added, in a distinct but guarded
voice. - 1 only want to tell you, you had better go home.
Mr. Gilchrist and I take watch and watch."

The game was up. '' Beaucouji de plaisir ! " I replied
in the same tones. "II fait un jpeu froid pour veiller]
yardez-vous des engelnres ! "

I suppose it was done in a moment of ungovernable
rage ; but in spite of the excellent advice he had given to
Ronald the moment before, Chevenix slipped the chain,
and the dog sprang, straight as an arrow, up the bank. I
stepped back, picked up a stone of about twelve pounds
weight, and stood ready. With a bound the beast landed
on the cope-stone of the wall ; and, almost in the same in-
stant, my missile caught him fair in the face. He gave a

EVENTS OF TUESDAY

823

stifled cry, went tumbling back where he had come from,
and I could hear tlie twelve-pounder accompany him in his
fall. Chevenix, at the same moment, broke out in a roar-
ing voice : " The hell-hound ! If he's killed my dog ! "
and I judged, upon all grounds, it was as well to be off.

f'iiifl

1 '

11.

CHAPTER XXX

EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY ; THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND

I AWOKE to mucli diffidence, even to a feeling that
might be called the beginnings of panic, and lav for hours
in my bed considering the siiuation. Seek wliere I pleased
there was nothing to encourage me and plenty to appal'
1 hey kept a close watch about the cottage; they had a
beast of a watcli-dog-at least, unless I had settled it; and
If I had, I knew its bereaved master would only watch the
more indefatigably for the loss. In the pardonable osten-
tation of love I had given all the monev I could spare to
J^lora; I had thought it glorious that the hunted exile
should come down, like Jupiter, in a shower of gold, and
pour thousands in the lap of the beloved. Theia had in
un hour of arrant folly buried what remained to me in a
bank m George Street. And now I must get back the one
or the other ; and which ? and how ?

As I tossed in my bed, I could see three possible courses
all extremely perilous. First, Rowley might have bee/i
mistaken ; the bank might not be watched ; it might still
be possible for him to draw the money on the deposit re-
ceipt. Second, I might apply again to Robbie. Or, third
1 might dare everything, go to the Assembly Ball, and
speak with Flora under the eyes of all Edinbur-h This
last alternative, involving as it did the most horrid risks,
and the delay of forty-eight hours, I did but glance at with
an averted head, and turned again to the consideration of

824

EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY

325

the others. It was the likeliest thing in the world that
Eobbie had been warned to have no more to do with me.
The whole policy of the Gilchrists was in the hands of
Chevenix ; and I thought this was a precaution so elemen-
tary that he was certain to have taken it. If he had not, of
course I was all right : Kobbie would manage to communi-
cate with Flora; and by four o'clock I might be on the
south road and, I was going to say, a free man. Lastly, I
must assure myself with my own eyes whether the bank 'in
George Street were beleaguered.

I called to Ro\, ley and questioned him tightly as to the
appearance e Bow Street officer.

" What ,; of looking man is he, Eowley ? " I asked,
as I began to dress.

"Wot sort of a looking man he is Y" repeated Rowley.
" Well, I don't very well know wot you would say, Mr.
Anne. He ain't a beauty, any'ow."

" Is he tall ? "

" Tall ? Well, no, I shouldn't say Ml, Mr. Anne."

" Well, then, is he short ? "

''Short ? No, I don't think I would say he was what
you would call short. No, not i)iticular short, sir."

"Then, I suppose, he must be about the middle
height ?"

" Well, you might say it, sir ; but not remarkable so."
I smothered an oath.

" Is he clean-shaved ?" I tried him again.
"Clean-shaved?" he repeated, with the same air of
anxious candour.

" Good heaven, man, don't repeat mv words like a par-
rot I " I cried. " Tell me what the man was like : it is of
the first importance that I should be able to recof^nise
him." °

" Vm trying to, Mr. Anne. But clean shaved? I don't

826

ST. IVES

\4 i

I'm

Is'

■I

if- -

1,11

seem to rightly get hold of that p'int. Sometimes it might
appear to me like as if he was ; and sometimes like as if
he wasn t. No, it wouldn't surprise me now if you was to
tell me he 'ad a bit o' whisker.''

"Was the man red-faced ?" I roared, dwelling on each
syllable.

"I don't think you need go for to get cross about it,
Mr. Anne said he. " I'm tollin' you every blessed
thmg I see ! Red-faced ? Well, no, not as you would re-
mark upon."

A dreadful calm fell upon me.

" Was he anywise pale ? " I asked.

" Well, it don't seem to me as though he were. But I

tell you truly, I didn't take much heed to that."

" Did he look like a drinking man ? "

"Well, no. If you please, sir, he looked more like an
eatmg one.

" 0, he was stout, was he ? "

"No, sir. I couldn't go so far as that. No, he wasn't
not to say sioui. If anything, lean rather."

I need not go on with the infuriating interview. It
ended as It began, except that Rowley was in tears, and
that I had acquired one fact. The man was drawn for me
as being of any height you like to mention, and of any de-
gree of corpulence or leanness ; clean shaved or not, as the
ease might be; the colour of his hair Rowley -could not
take It upon himself to put a name on" ; that of his eyes
he thought to have been blue-nay, it was the one point
on which he attained to a kind of tearful certainty. " I'll
take my davy on it," he asseverated. They proved to have
been as black as sloes, very little and very near together,
bo much for the evidence of the artless ! And the fact, or
rather the facts, acquired ? Well, they had to do not with
the person but with his clothing. The man wore knee-

Biit I

EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY 327

breeches and white stockings ; his coat wa. "some kind of
a lightish colour-or betwixt that and dark " ; and he
woroa .-moleskin weskit." As if this were not enough
he presently haled me from my breakfast in a prodS;
fl tter, and showed me an honest and rather venefab
citizen passing in the square.

''That's him sir," he cried, "the very moral of him !
Well tins one is bettor dressed, and pYaps a trifle taller
nd m the aoc he don't favour iiim noways atall, ir No'

it X' ™"''' '"" ^^"'"' "'■""■' -^""'»'''™"
"Jackass ! " said I, and I think the greatest stickler for
manners will admit the epithet to havclen Justified
Meanwhile the appearance of my landlady added a great

oad of anxiety to what I already suffered: It was pla

liat she had not slept ; equally plain that she had wep
c piously She sighed, she groaned, she drew in ll
brea h, she shook ker head, as she waited on table In
short, she seemed in so precarious a state, like a petard
t ree fines charged with hysteria, that I did not dare to-
address her ; and stole out of the house on tiptoe ai cl
actually ran downstairs, in the fear tliat she might call ne
ittlong ™^""" *'"'«"' degree of tension°could,ro:

It was my first care to go to George Street whi. ■ I

sTlt' V '"'^ "' " ""^ "^ takiig drn\,;t;,k

shutteis. A man was conversing with him ; he had white
^t ckmgs and a moleskin >vaistc„at, and wa; as ill-look I'g
a rogue as you would want to see in a day's journev This
seemed to agree fairly well with Rowley's .i„.,.« „,; '
tlw I'f .?)''"'"°--'"y (if you rc:„c„,ber), and had

r,vari;: '^. "■" '"^ -^-^ -^ '^^ «-' ^-v^^

Thence I made my way to Mr. Robbie's, where I i....<.

■ 'm

'mj

328

ST. IVES

the bell. A servant answered the summons, and told me
the lawyer was engaged, as I had half expected.

"Wha shall I say was callin' ?" she pursued ; and when
I had told her " Mr. Ducie," " I think this'll be for you,
then ? " she added, and handed me a letter from the hall
table. It ran :

" Dear Mr. Ducie,
"My single advice to you is to leave quam prih.um for the South.

"Yours, T. Robbie."

That was short and sweet. It emphatically extinguished
hope in one direction. No more" was to be gotten of
Robbie ; and I wondered, from my heart, how much had
been told him. Not too much, I hoped, for I liked the
lawyer who had thus deserted me, and I placed a certain
reliance in the discretion of Chevenix. He would not be
merciful ; on the other hand, I did not think he would be
cruel without cause.

It was my next affair to go back along George Street,
and assure myself whether the man in the moleskin vest
was still on guard. There was no sign of him on the
pavement. Spying the door of a common stair nearly op-
posite the bank, I took it in my head that this would be
a good point of observation, crossed tlie street, entered with
a businesslike air, and fell immediately against the man in
the moleskin vest. I stopped and apologised to him ; he
replied in an unmistakable English accent, thus putting
the matter almost beyond doubt. After this encounter I
must, of course, ascend to the top story, ring tlie bell of a
suite of apartments, inquire for i\Ir. Vavasour, learn (with
no great surprise) that he did not live there, come down
again and, again politely saluting the man from Bow
Street, make my escape at last into the street.
I was now driven back upon the Assembly Ball. Robbie

EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY

829

had failed me. The bank was watched ; it would nevor
do to risk Rowley in that neighbourhood. All I could do
was to wait until the morrow evening, and present myself
at the Assembly, let it end as it might. But I must say
1 came to this decision with a good deal of genuine fright •
and here I came for tlio first time to one of those places
whei-e my courage stuck. I do not mean that mv courage
boggled and made a bit of a bother over it, as it did ovtr
the escape from the Castle ; I mean, stuck, like a stoi)ped
watch or a dead man. Certainly I would go to tlie ball •
certainly I must see this morning about my clothes That
was all decided. But the most of the shops were on the
other side of the valley, in the Old Town ; and it was now
my strange discovery that I was physically unable to cross
tlie North Bridge ! It was as though a precipice had stood
between us or the deep sea had intervened. Nearer to tlie
i^astle my legs refused to bear me.

I told myself this was mere superstition ; I made wao-ers
with myself-and gained them ; I went down on the* es-
planade of Princes Street, walked and stood there, alone
and conspicuous, looking across the garden at tlie old grey
bastions of the fortress, where all these troubles had be-
gun. I cocked my hat, set my hand on my hip, and swa-
gered on the pavement, confronting detection. And^'l
found I could do all this with a sense of exhilaration that
was not unpleasing, and with a certain cranerie of manner
that raised me in my own esteem. And yet there was one
thing I could not bring my mind to face up to, or my
hmbs to execute ; and that was to cross the valley into the
Old iown. It seemed to me I must be arrested immedi-
ately It I had done so ; I must go straight into the twi-
light of a prison cell, and pass straight thence to tl.P
gross and final embraces of the nightcap and the hal-
ter. And yet it was from no reasoned fear of the con-

i N

i i, I 3

,:,.ii

330

ST. IVES

I was unable. My hoise

lit

€ '

sequences that I could not go.
baulked, and there was an end !

My nerve was gojie : here was a discovery for a man in
such imminent peril, set down to so desperate a game,
which I could only hope to win by continual hick and un-
flagging effrontery ! The strain had been too long con-
tinued, and my nerve was gone. I fell into what they call
panic fear, as I have seen soldiers do on the alarm of a
night attack, and turned out of Princes Street at random
as though the devil were at my heels. In St. Andrew's
Square, I remember vaguely hearing some one call out. I
paid no heed, but pressed on blindly. A moment after, a
hand fell heavily on my shoulder, and I thought I had
fainted. Certaiidy the world went black about me for
some seconds ; and when that spasm passed I found myself
standing face to face with the "cheerful extravagant," in
what sort of disarray I really dare not imagine, dead white
at least, shaking like an aspen, and mowing at the man
with speechless lips. And this was the soldier of Napoleon,
and the gentleman who intended going next night to an
Assembly Ball ! I am the more particular in telling of my
breakdown, because it was my only experience of the sort ;
and it is a good tale for officers. I will allow no man to
call me coward ; I have made my proofs ; few men more.
And yet I (come of the best blood in France and inured to
danger from a child) did, for some ten or twenty minutes,
make this hideous exhibition of myself on the streets of
the New Town of Edinburgh.

With my first available breath I begged his pardon. I
was of an extremely nerviis disposition, recently increased
by late hours ; I could noc bear the slightest start.

He seemed much concerned. " You must be in a devil
of a state ! " said he ; " though of course it was my fault
—damnably silly, vulgar sort of thing to do ! A thousand

EVENTS OP WEDNESDAY 331

apologies ! Bat you really must be ruu clown ; you should
consult a medico. My dear sir, a hair of the c o^ h't b t
you ,s clearly indicated. A touch of Blue R^ln now '
Or, come: it's early, but is man the slave of hours v wlTai
do you say to a chop and a bottle in Dumbrock's Hotel '■' "
I refused all false comfort ; but >vhen he wont on to ro-
-nd me that this was the day when the University of
Cranioud met; and to propose a five-mile walk into the

hnn^^elf, I began to think otherwise. I had to wait until
to-morrow evening, at any rate ; this might serve as well
a^^any thing else to bridge the dreary hours. The county

sedative for the nerves. Kemembering poor Kowley, feign-
n g a cold in our lodgings and immediately under tlie gfn.s
of the ormidable and now doubtful Bethiah, I asked if I

Texplai^ef ""^ ''''''"^* " ^'''' "^'"'^ ' '^ '' ^^"^^ ^"' ^'""''^

«.r!iJ r "^''/!^"\«^'"^ '' "merciful to his ass," observed my
sententious friend. - Bring him by all means ! ^

' The harp, his sole remaining joy,
Was carried by an orphan boy ; ■

and I have no doubt the orphan boy can get some cold
victuals in the kitchen, while the Senatus dhies "

Accordingly, being now quite recovered from my un-
manly condition, except that nothing could yet induce me

°slZ"in Lef rt ^^'^? ' ™"^^^ ''' - ball diSs a
a shop in Leith Street, where I was not served ill, cut out

Rowley from his seclusion, and was ready along ;ith him

at the trysting-place, the corner of Duke'street^ald York

entdinV ''"i ''*" *"" ^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ -« -pt
.ented ni force : eleven persons, including ourselves, Byfieid

the aeronaut, and the tall lad, Forbes, whom I had met on

!%■.
m]

'■m

333

ST. IVES

he Sunday morn,„s, bedowed with tallow, at the •• H»n.
ta . Heat." I wa, .ntroducod ; ami wo sH oft by way of
Nowhaven and tl.o soa beach ; at first tI,r„„gl/,,San
country road,, and afterwards along a succes J, J^Z
u airyhke prettlness, to o„r destinal.V.n-Cran.ond o K
Ahnond-ahttlo hamlet on a litUo river, ond.over 1 ,
wood.,, a.Hl ooking forth over a great flat of ,,„iek J,nd o
»■ --0 a l.ttle islet stood planted in the sea. wn,!
mtnre .eenery, but eharnnng of its kind. The a™f „
good Lebrnary afternoon was braeing, b„t not eold A
the way my comjianions were skylarking, icstin.^ „„ l
n..ak„,g puns and I felt a, if a loadl.d bee , 1 e^j/my

^yfleld I observed, beeanse I had heard of him before
and seen h,s advertisements, not at all because I wafd '
posed to fee mterest in the man. He was dark and lio
»nd very s, lent ; frigid in his manners, but burning in
ternally w.th a great fire of excitement; and he waVso
good as to bestow a good deal of his compmy and conver
sat,on (snoh as it was) upon myself, who was not in tto
least grateful. If I had known how I was to be connee d

Tot X'" '"' '"""'''-'' '"""'■ ' ""'«'" "- "»

In the hamlet of Cramond there is a hostelry of no verv
prom,smg appearance, and here a room had been prepared
for us, and we sat down to table Pr-paied

tarti?or^°",T-" I"**, "" ^""""S <"• g<'™andising, no
turtle or mght.ngales' tongues," said the extravagant
whose name, by the way, was Dalmuhoy. " The dS'

High ktki^g.r^''^ °' '---' ■■' «»■■" ^««

' Grace was said by the Professor of Divinity, in a maoa
iiear it ihjmud, and I^guessed it to be more witty thai^

w.i

EVENTS OP WRDNESDAY

333

reverent. After which the .Se,mlm Aeademicm ,at down
to rough plenty in the sl,..,,„ „f ri.,„M , j iJl''™^

hcotaid. Iho (Uniior was imlwd down ,vith hn.wn

» ont ,„ bottle, and a, ,oon as the cloth w s LIT

gtaes, bod,ng water, sugar, and whisky were set "uto;

he mannfactnre of toddy. I played a g,;„d knifo .nj L'k

.not .hun the bowl, and took part, so fa,- as I wa We'

seasoned. Croatly daring, I vontnred, bei.rc all these
Seo s,,H,„, to tell .Sim's Tale of Tweedie^s dog ^^ I w

Chai^ ot W . "'" '"""""""^'y «"«J into tl«

Idiau ol Scots, and became, from that moment a full

member of the University of Cran.oed. A littl kfte,

found myself entertaining then, with a song; and a it'tl

ter perhaps a little in conseq„ence_it „e''c n-ed to n

liat I had had enough, and would be verv well insni ed ^^

take French leave. It was not ditBcult iZvThv it

;™aht Id b""ri '° *""^ '"y --:::;:; ;i:;!

viviality had banished suspicion

I got easily forth of the cha'.nbor, which reverberated
wth he voices of these merry and lear„e,l g nU me, and
b,-eathed a long b,-„ath. I had pa,ssed an ^.e Ue afte;

AI..S ! when I looked into the kitchci, (here was mv
monkey, ,lr„nk as a lo„l, toppling on the e Ke ^f Zl
dresser, and performing on the' flageolet to „ audien e o
the house lasses an.l .some neighbouring ploughmen
I routed him promptly from his perch studc his hat on

Sit rTTs Vl\':;r;t>r T" ^'^"^ '-

dives, and set him eontmually on his legs again. At

ST. IVES

first lie sang wildly, with occasional outbursts of ouuselosg
Itiuglitor. Grudimlly an inurliculato ineliiiioholy succeeded ;
he wept gently at times ; would stop in the middle of the'
road, say firmly - No, no, no," and then fall on his back •
or else address me solemnly as " M'lord," and full on his
face by way of variety. I am afraid I was not always so
gentle with the little pig as I might have been, but really
the position was unbearable. We made no headway at all,
and I suppose we were scarce gotten a mile away from Cra-
mond, when the whole Senaiiis Academicus was heard
hailing, and doubling the pace to overtake m.

Some of them were fairly presentable ; and tliey were all
Christian martyrs compared to Rowley : but thev were in
a frolicsome and rollicking humour that promise'l danger
as we approached the town. They sang songs, they ran
races, they fenced with their walking-sticks and umbrellas ;
and, in spite of this violent exercise, the fun grew only the
more extravagant with the miles they traversed. Their
drunkenness was deep-seated and permanent, like fire in a
peat ; or rather—to be quite just to them-it was not so
much to be called drunkenness at all, as the effect of youth
and high spirits-a fine night, and the night young, a good
road under foot, and the world before you !

I had left them once somewhat unceremoniously ; I
could not attempt it a second time ; and, burthened as I
was with Mr. Rowley, I was really glad of assistance. But
I saw the lamps of Edinburgh draw near on their hill-top
with a good deal of uneasiness, which increased, after we
had entered the lighted streets, to positive alarm. All the
passers-by were addressed, some of them by name. A
worthy man was stopped by Forbes. " Sir," said he, '' in
the name of the Senatus of the University of Cramond, I
confer upon you the degree of LL.D.,"and with the words
hi bonneted liim. Conceive the predicament of St. Ires,

EVENTS OK WKDNKSDAY

336

committed to the society of these outrageous youtlis, in u
town wlioro the police and liis cousin were botli looiiing for
lum . So fur, we imd pursued our way unniojostcd, ulthou.rh
raising a chimour fit to wake the dead ; but at last hi
Abercromby Place, I believe- ■ V^st it was a eresceni of
Jiighly respectable houses f-onting .n a garden-Hylield
and I, having fallen somew uc: in th rear with Kowlev
came to a simultaneous halt. ^ur ruMans were beginning
to wrench off bells and door-pl r s ;

:' ^' ^ «fy •' " says IJyfield, - tliis is too murh of a good
thing ! Confound it, I'm a respectable man-a public
character, by George ! 1 can't afford to get taken up by
the i)olice." '^ ^

" My own case exactly," said I.
" Here, let's bilk them," said he.
And we turned back and took our way down hill again
It was none too soon : voices and alarm-bells sounded •
watchmen here and there began to spring their rattles ; it
was plain the University of Cramond would soon be at
blows with the police of Edinburgh ! liyfidd and I run^
ning the semi-inanimate Rowley before us, made good de-
spatch, and did not stop till we were several stn.cs away
and the hnbbub was already softened by distance.

" Well, sir," said he, " we are well out of that ! Did
ever any one see such a pack of young barbarians ?"

-We are properly punished, Mr. Byfield ; we had no
business there," I replied.

"No, indeed, sir, you may well say that ! Outrageous '
And my ascension announced for Friday, you know ' "
cried the aeronaut. "A pretty scandal ! Byfield the aero-
naut at the police-court ! Tut-tut ! Will you be able to
get your rascal home, sir ? Allow me to offpr vnu m- n^,.^
1 am staying at Walker and Poole's Hotel/sir, where I
should be pleased to see you."

\ n-

336

ST. IVES

" The pleasure wonld be mutual, sir," said I ; but I must

^^^J^V. ^^'''* '^''^ """'^ '" ""^ ^°^^«' ^"d '-IS I watched Mr
Byfield departing, I desired nothing less than to pursue
tlie acquaintance.

One more ordeal remained for me to pass. I carried my
senseless load upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by
the landlady in a tall white nightcap and with an expres-
sion singularly grim. She lighted us into the sittiiic.-
room ; where, when I had seated Rowley in a chair, site
dropped me a cast-iron courtesy. I smelt gunpowder on
the woman. Her voice tottered with emotion

M give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie," said she. -Dacent
loJks houses . . ."

And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance,
and she took herself off without more words.

I looked about me at the room, the goggling Rowley,
the extmguislied fire ; my mind reviewed the laughable in-
cidents of the day and night ; and I laughed out loud to
myselt— lonely and cheerless laughter !

[At this point the story as written hy Mr. Stevenson breaks off, and
the remaining chapters are the ivork of Mr. Quiller- Couch.]

'III

CHAPTER XXXI

EVENTS OF THURSDAY : THE ASSEMBLY BALL

But I awoke to tlie chill reminder of dawn, and found
myself no master even of cheerless mirth. I had snpiDcd
Avith the Senatus Acadcmimis of Cramond : so much my
head informed me. It was Thursday, the day of the
Assembly Bull. But the ball was fixed by the card for
8 P.M., and I had, therefore, twelve mortal hours to wear
through as best I could. Doubtless it was this reflection
which prompted me to leap out of bed instanter and ring
for Mr. Rowley and my shaving Avater.

Mr. Rowley, it appeared, was in no such hurry. I
tugged a second time at the bell-rope. A groan answered
me : and there in the doorway stood, or rather titubated,
my paragon of body-servants. He was collarless, unkempt ;
his face a tinted map of shame and bodily disorder. His
hand shook on the hot-water can, and spilled its contents
into his shoes. I opened on him with a tirade, but had no
heart to continue. The fault, after all, was mine : and it
argued something like heroism in the lad that he liad
fought his nausea down and come up to time.

''But not smiling," I assured him.

" 0 please, Mr. Anne. Go on, sir ; I deserve it.
But I II never do it again, strike me sky-blue scarlet 1"

" In so far as that differed from your present colouring,
I believe," said 1, " it would be an improvement.''
»8 337

Hit]

338

ST. lYES

" Never again, Mr. Anne."

"Certainly not, Rowley. Even to good men this rnav
^i^' •■ '''''''' '''''' ^^^^^— «^-d- off "Z
" Yessir.**

"You gave a good deal of trouble last night I hav,.
J-ot to meet JIi-s. McEankiuo."

;■ As for that, Mr. Anne," said he, with an incongruous
twn.kle in his bloodshot eye, " she've been up with a tmv
« and a pot o, t.. The old gal'sCir: e

swlred™ ^'"""^ """ '"*'" ''' J'"'' ^^' *™»''ls." I »n-
One thing is certain. Eowley, that morning, should
not be entrusted with a razorand the handling oft; hi"
I sent h,n, baek to his bed, with orders not t! rise Lm u
without p„rnr,ss,on; and went about my toilette .1010

I enjoyed it so little, indeed, that I fell to poking the
s.t „,g-roo,n Are when she entered with the mZII^
and read the J/„«.^ assiduously while she brongh I,',

LTd.afle!;;;.'""' ™ ""■ '"P'- '- -'-'"ttitndo breath.

" Well, Mrs. McKankine ? " I be^an nnfnrnm„ o i,
critical eye from the newspaper! "P^^^^^^g ^ ^ypo-

'" Well,' is it ? Nhm!"

''Rowley was very foolish last night," I remarked with
a discnminating stress on the name ™aiked, with

, "'The ass knoweth his muster's crib.'" She pointed

EVENTS OF TIIUn^DAY

339

T have

an-

to the herring. " It's all ye'II get. Mi.— Dncie, if that's
your name."

" Matlatii "—I lield out the fish at the end of my fork—
"you drag it across the track of ai, ipology." I set it
back on the disli and replaced tiie cover. " It is clear that
you wish us gone. Well and good : grant Rowley a day
for recovery, and to-morrow you shall be quit of us." I
reached for my hat.

'* Whaur are ye gaun ? "

** To seek other lodgings "

" I'll no say Man, man ! have a care ! And me

but to close an eye the nicht ! " She dropped into a chair.
"Nay, Mr. Ducie, ye daurna! Think o' that innocent
lamb!"

" That little pig."

" He's ower young to die," sobbed my landlady.

**In the abstract I agree with you : but I am not aware
that Rowley's death is required. Say rather that he is
ower young to turn King's evidence." I stei)ped back
from the door. "Mrs. McRankine," I said, "I believe
you to be soft-hearted. I know you to be curious. You
will be pleased to sit perfectly still and listen lo me."

And, resuming my seat, I leaned across the corner of
the table and put my case before her without suppression
or extenuation. Iler breatiiiiig tightened over my sketch
of the duel with Gognelat ; and again more sharply as I
told of my descent of the rock. Of Alain sh<^ said, " I
ken his sort," and of Flora twice, " I'm wonderin' will I
have seen her ?" For the rest, she heard me out in silence,
and rose and walked to the door without a word. There
she turned. " It's a verra queer tale. If McRankine had
told me the like, I'd have gien him the lie to his face."

Two minutes later I heard the vials of her speech un-
Bealed above stairs, with detonations that shook the house.

' 'il

1 I

340

ST. IVES

iandlad/;,;b,.4lU sifted ST' ,""'/"/'"" '" "^^
by one Tavlor. D D T/,^ I',. , n ' ^'■'*'"'«' •Sim,

*" pacing i,;'o"r^ T,:itu:in. :;■''''■"""" ' '^■"

t^.gs of Latin vo,.o conoen tog wl fc ^ to, rT""'?"'
long ago assured me, •■ JIv son w I ^ulomberg l,ad
«onic day they will comfCv '°'',"°' "''"="•''"'

;viti. ohaL."' ooodii'ii;,^:" ;:;'-'- '\"'"

Honu'e's Alcaics V,rfu.^ j / . *"^ ^^^'Pet to

raro antecedentem scelestum
^eseruit pede Panel claudo.

J paused by the windo\>/ r.. fi.,-. fi

for a cold drizzle .a^ led t n , '"r,™ ™""l'-™«on ;
«part„,entdi„,„,ed thei,- htr:,^,:;" ™"""' "'"'^
«.e'd™p£::" ''"'"'"'" "'^ «"«"'■ '-ed tl,e words on

e«™diun:rir;zr:,:;'ir;dtr«:;\.'

— ohve-greeu cout witli ^[\t buttons .nw'i f • 1 ^'^

feui Duuons and facings of watered

Events of Thursday

341

silk, olive-green pantaloons, white waistcoat sprigged with
blue and green forgot-nie-nots. The survey carried mo on
to midchiy and the midday meal.

Tlie ministry of meal-time is twice blest : for prisoners
and men without appetite it punctuates and makes time
of eternity. I dawdled over my chop and pint of brown
stout until Mrs McRankine, after twice entering to clear
away, with the face of a Cuma^an sibyl, so far relaxed the
tension of unnatural calm as to inquire if I meant to be
all night about it.

The afternoon wore into dusk ; and with dusk she reap-
peared with a tea-tray. At six I retired to dress.

Behold me now issuing from my chamber, conscious of
a well-fitting coat and a sliapely pair of logs ; the dignified
simplicity of my tournure (simplicity so proper to the scion
of an exiled house) relieved by a dandiacal hint of shirt-
fnll, and corrected into tenderness by tlie virgin waistcoat
sprigged with forget-me-nots (for constancy), and buttoned
with pink coral (for hope). Satisfied of the effect, I
sought the apartment of Mr. Rowley of the Rueful
Countenance, and found him less yellow, but still contrite,
and listening to Mrs. McRankine, who sat with open book
by his bedside, and plied him with pertinent dehortations
from the Book of Proverbs.

He brightened.

" My heye, Mr. Hann, if that ain't up to the knocker ! "

Mrs. McRankine closed the book, and conned me with
austerer appro va?.

" Ye carry it well, I will say."

*' It fits, I think."

I turned myself complacently about.

"The drink, I'm meaning. I kenned McRankine."

" Shall we talk of business, madam ? In the first place,
the quittance for our board and lodging."

342

SI. IVES

, >>

'M milk' it out on Saturdays.'

"Do so; and deduct it out of tlii« " t i, j ■ ,
Ave of my guinea, into her k.°uiZ^ nJl^ 'T"'^"
and a erown piece in my noeVe ^'t "" "","' "™

tats, will serve for RoVCVL. .,ud\n r™' "''"° "
Before lorigUio,,,, 1,, „,.;„ lif,, "' e-vwiisfs.

«•■- >;a«k at"hi., ivi': a'riTe'i::^::""''"^^' ''■""" "- ^"

ber ; "-tor !,e „•■,<, ,, , , ■ ' , ^' """"'I'lme, remem-
theu-" Y„, , '""''"""g '« 'oap out of bed there and

-.' yourself ::, at"^ 'ctM:1 "„', r' T" ^^^-
Strcet, or Mi«. 'r,„,, Gikhrisf'of's^: » Co',';'^"°

"=^'it:;:r^i;t-r-'-e::r^::s:

'"!;; «-*>• -need. ?• I,, t!^ L f o'^m L"^ "'■""'•
My dear woman " -^ ^ *

cieaJthekll:,"™'" '™'' '"" •»'""»' -"* 1-11 do to
i-tsTuhle::;::!!^'."--, '-."-"■•"-^^ '^e ,ad to her
forth „,,on the raiu-swepi street ""^""'""'' -"-d

:r/''Br:tfr:r°-'^ -' "r.trd'a'i^'e.!

'ft. -Deneacu the awning a pane] nf Urri^f e n
plushy pavement. Already L ^3,0!. •'" ' '

whipped in briskly, pre.-^uted mf n ^ ? ''"'''"^" ^
staircase deeorated^vUh f ^ p^^ ''^' '"^ ^^^^^'^ ^^^ «
blems. A vpnerablo f n ' '" ''''f ''''''' ^nd natio uii tm-
" '''''''^ ^^"'^"^^ ^^-a^ted for me at thesir it

ip a

EVENTS OF THURSDAY 343

" Cloak lobby to the left, sir/' I obeyed, and exchanged
my overcoat and goloslies for a circular metal ticket
'^ What name, sir ?" he purred over my card, as I lingered
in the vestibule for a moment to scan the ball-room and
my field of action : then, having cleared his throat, bawled
suddenly, " Mr. Ducie ! "

It might have been a stage direction. < A tucket sounds.
Enter the Vicomte, disguised: To tell the truth this
entry was a daunting business. A dance had just come to
an end ; and the musicians in the gallery had fallen to
tuning their violins. The chairs arrayed along the walls
were thinly occupied, and as yet the social temperature
scarce rose to thawing-point. In fact, the second-rate
people had arrived, and from the far end of the room were
nervously watching the door for notables. Consequently
my entrance drew a disquieting fire of observation. The
mirrors, reflectors, and girandoles had eyes for me ; and as
I advanced up the perspective of waxed floor, the very
boards winked detection. A little Master of Ceremonies
as round as the rosette on his lapel, detached himself froni
the nearest group, and approached with something of a
skater's motion and an insinuating smile.

" Mr.-a-Ducie, if I heard aright ? A stranger, I be-
lieve, to our nortliern capital, and I hope a dancer V I
bowed. -Grant me the pleasure, Mr. Ducie, of finding
you a partner."

"If," said I, ''you would present me to tlie young lady
yonder, beneath the musician's gallery " For I recog-
nised Master Ronald's flame, the girl in pink of Mr. Rob-
bie's party, to-night gowned in apple-green.

"Miss McBean-Miss Camilla McBean ? With pleas-
ure. Great discrimination you show, sir. Be so good as
to follow me."

I was led forward and presented. Miss McBean re-

<i\ .

344

ST. IVES

sponded to my bow with
turn Dresfiii for? r,-,^ *.„ i,_..

stiff

(^ot trimmings,
fri

SJ^^^^ V^^y of shonUera ; and

lady

IJIM,K. sua, Snrmonntnrl ^„H-U „ 11. 1

surmounted with a black

cap and coqueii

m
in

Sir Willinn, „„„ l.^, ^ ;"'f Look Cam.lla dear-
well that dia„,o,H, ba„i,„;t -' ir^f ""»'-"-'

'o-n,ght. As I ,vas savin.., ilr — " '^ ™ "'"''J'

^ieitror-;; o,t: ::;s•:;Lr^'™"" °' «-■ «°^-

■■0- to break l.im of l,is b che „ Sits y" """ "'T""
aIongatayinEili„burgl, ?" •""" ' » ouire making

;; 1 far matia,,,, tba°t I m„st leave it te-morrow "

-^a«ei„gi„ki ,> :: c";;''T/°" ■'"' '''^' « "-

geour ha^ edged ,cr Cbi.,.? ' "•'"■' """ "'"^^ ^crym-

"•^'VsiioiJ in Prinees S ree vJ; r^""™ ^'"' '" ">■«*

'"e botto,,,, and tl ee t IC ' ' ''''^""^ >""* »'

l-erbapsyou cau tell me Vr n *:'. ■''°""'' "'« ''"'"''e.

ribbon trLmings a e"; /J"™; " f ' '■^'^"^ '"'^ "'a'
year ?" ° ' '"'*''' '" London and Batli tbis

c;™nia't:varti::r "!«:;' ' r' '"^ ""-'^""="

wore kind euougl, to olnH , \ '""''' "" '"'"''^^ ("'bo

-ffered tbemselve tof ' ^ "he";' "'"^■■""•""-o)
t"ne the arrivals were follnl^, fa-room. By tbis

and, standing M^tt ;k^'T 1'"'' """'' "'"' '»^'^
vociferated artl,e ball. 1;"!;^''^;'''' "=""« """r "«.,e

" loom doo„ kit never tbe name my

EVENTS OF THURSDAY

and in

345

nerves were on tlie strain to eclio. Surely Flora would
come • surely none of her guardians, natural or officious,
would expect to find me at the ball. But the minutes
passed, and I must convey Mrs. and Miss Mclioan back to
tlieir seats beneath the gallery.

';Mrs. Gilchrist- Miss Gilchrist- Mr. Ronald Gil-
christ ! Mr. Robbie ! Major Arthur Chevenix ! "

The first name plumped like a shot across my bows, and
brought me up standing-for a second only. Before the
catalogue was out, I had dropped the McBeans at their
moorings and was heading down on my enemies' line of
battle. Their faces were a picture. Flora's cheek flushed,
and her lips parted in the prettiest cry of wonder. Mr.
Robbie took snuff. Ronald went red in the face, and Ma-
jor Chevenix white. The intrepid Mrs. Gilchrist turned
not a hair.

"What will be the meaning of this?" she demanded,
drawing to a stand, and surveying me through her gold-
nmmed eyeglass.

" Madam," said I, with a glance at Chevenix, - you may
call it a cutting-out expedition."

"Mrs. Gilchrist," he began, "you will surely not "

But Iwas too quick for him.

"Madam, since when has the gallant Major superseded
Mr. Kobbie as your family adviser ? "

" H'mph ! " said Mrs. Gilchrist ; which in itself was not
reassuring. But she turned to the lawyer.

"My dear lady," he answered her look, "this very im-
prudent young man seems to have burnt his boats, and no
douU recks ve^y Httle if, in that heroioal conflagration, he
burns^our finge^ Speaking, however, as your family ad-
viser -and he laid enough stress on it to convince me that
there was no love lost between him and the interloping
Chevenix-" I suggest that we gain nothing by protracting

I M

846

ST. IVES

but nonplussed. ""'' «'"™' ""<' ">« Major pale

" ^O'"' 'I'om six leaves two " sni,! I . j
gaged Flora', arm and towe,l l ' "'' f"'"'Vay en-

batteries, "■ '"' """'J" '■■«» 'he silenced

ehai.t"'' iwwittm' ! '"'"'' °' '^^ ^'"'■"' "™ -"'"'ed
fo.- the flr t or se on i „e -r™ 'r'"^'' "'" "'^ '^"^-""t
so, N„,v listen ' s A, '"'• ''""' ^o'"- '—
D.™breok.s Hotel. 'CZ^; i':,,'" ^"'""-gb, at

-i"> bim, and likely e ™ I at,, " ''™"S",^^»- S'--«ot
are .nsaokin, t„e olt, bottt ;^„;— *« ™--

,.„,,, ,„ ■"■'d ! Anne, why wi,i ,.„„ ,,^ ^^

I blfk^lrStrr '^."' ' ""^ ''^^' '»»"' - dear,
the hanK is w„tel , ,st In:! '" '""""' •^"-'' ™'

«ontl,. Therefore I n,Lt ',' Z^^'"."'"' "V ™.V
you were lind enoiK^h to la.m, ,- . '"" "'« ""i''^

and And yon nndersn i e ;',cL ?" '" '"""*""
■'" animal called Towzer Z °',^'"=™"'-^ ' l'l'™-to.l l,v

the way. I, so trZ'n ^T" '"" '"<■" '''""'"■r, by

,1 .1 , ' "ansported to an . il i ^

I'.ortly have the faithfnl Chevenix to "^^ '" "'"^

I grow tired of Olieveni.x » company.

sbf:is star^';X;';-r™T ''-^ •™'' '■■'-■■'».■ -"d

reproach in h °r h^.ti",,, C" '' """ " ''"'" °^ »^"-
"Andllooked„ptho„otosathometo-nig„t-,vhenl

EVENTS OF THURSDAY 347

hI?M n 'V^ ,^']^r*^' ^''^ *'"^^ '^'^y ''^^'^ left '"y

heart ! 0, false !-faIse of trnst that I am ' "

" Why, dearest, that is not fatal, I hope. You reach
hon.o to-night-yon slip them into some hiding-say in
the corner of the wall below the garden "

"Stop: lot mo think." She ..eked „p her fan again,
and behind It her eyes darkened ui.ile I wat-'hed and she
consKlered. " Yon know the hill we pass before we read,
bw.inston? it has a clump of Hrs above it, like a fin. There
IS a quarry on the east slope. If you will be there at eight
-I can manage it, I tliink, and bring tlie money."

" But why should you run the risk ?"

-Please, Anue-0, please let me do something' If
ynu knew what it is to sit at home while your-your
dearest " '' •'

"" lE Viscount of Saint- Yves I"

The namr >. shouted from the doorway, rang down her

faltering S( ace as with the clash of an alarm bell I

saw Ronald-in talk with Miss McBean but a few yards

away-spin round on his heel and turn slowly back on me

with a face of sheer bewilderment. There was no time to

conceal myself. To reach eitlu t the tea-room or the card-

room, I must travei-e twelye feet of open floor. AVe sat in

clear view of the main entrance; and there already, with

eyeglass lifted, raffish, flnmboyant, exuding pomades and

bad style, stood my detestable cousin. He saw us at once •

wheeled right-about-face, and spoke to some one in the

vestibule ; wheeled round again, and bore straight down a

full swagger varnishing his malign triumph. Flora caught

her breath as I stood up to accost him.

"Good evening, my cousin : The nowspaper told me
yon were favouring this citv with a stay."

^'At Dumbreck's Hotel: where, my dear Anne, you
have not yet done me the pleasure to seek me out."

i'ln

'H8

PT. IVES

" I gutheml," said T " M,,.^

Lis list of l,,uh. 1 ,''?""' '"" » Slancoovor

I'«".v. cousin." ' ' '° ■* "'™ "I'o.it ,„y c«,„.

Ass that I \vn<s ' r 1 J

«- n>ncl, us ,. thougl,'. """^ «"-^"' ""» ->''>'io"« danger

thoVtrtT" ' '"'™ *™ ""» <" ^""■- l^"««t intimate, abont
He oyc.1 me, ami ansivereil, witli i M„(r i ,

^ 0" gavo US the very .levil of , i '"'S''- " All !

l-e-'-Vune, to have a hat' , ,; ^ llTfo,/"" "^1'-, m,
traoks. And begad, I don't >3e 'II H "'!"""' '" ^■'""•
og mg Flora >vith an insolent stare ' '" '""""^ "l'-

of "sle°:'s! ""°""' ""™ "•""^'' -^ -ent alono. lie reeked

I' l]^'fsGnt me, Monimve."
* i Jl 1)0 shot if I do "

m,;;""""" ""^ ■•"^•'"'' *''»' I-'ivilege for soldiers," he

on;fe':oTd"lIe";:i,tr„:-'""'f " '— - I-"ed.,p
P'"7 the game „„ " wt ^le ""'!', ^^''^ ' ™""' "' '-t
<•»«/'•''-*».<. will bogiu n e e, r .■ ' '"" ^' " "

Alain strike jou ? " j asked ^ ^ ^"^ ^^^ ^oes

He is a handsome nvm " r,i n
had treats, him diCnt;;-, itrhv!:!!!:./'" ^°" -,e

bot.ee;/ge':'t'i:::r:r. zr ""^ -- ■'■■'«' -^i.

^ " """"'"J-master I A posture

EVENTS OF TIIUUSDAY

349

or two, and you interpret worth. My dear girl— that fel-
low ! "

She was silent. I have since learned why. It seems, if
.von please, that the very same remark had })eeu made' to
her by tiiat idiot Chevenix, upon me I

AVe were close to the door : we pa.^sed it, and I (Iihk' u
glance into the vestibule. Tliere, sure enough, at the
liead of the stairs, was posted my friend of the moleskin
waistcoat, in talk with a confederate by some shades
ngher than himself— a red-headed, loose-legged scoundrel
in cinder-grey.

I was fairly in the tnip. I turned, and between the
moving crowd caught Alain's eye and his evil smile. Ife
had found a partner : no less a personage than Lady Fra-
zer of the lilac sarsnet and diamond bandeau.

For some unaccountaljle reason, in this infernal impasse
my spirits began to rise, to soar. I declare it : I led Flora
forward to the set with a gaiety which may have been un-
mitural, but was certainly not factitious. A Scotsman
would have called me fey. As the song goes-aud it
matters not if I luid it then, or read it later in my wife's
library — -,

" Sae rantingly, sae wantonly
« Sae (launtingly gnod he ;

He played a spring and danced it round
Beneath "

never mind what. The band plnyed the spring and I
danced it round, wliile my cousin eyed me with extorted
approval. The quadrille includes an absurd figure-called
I think, La PastourcUe. You take a ladv with either hand
and jig them to and fro, for all the world like an English-
man of legend parading a couple of wives for sale at Smith-
field ; while tiie other male, like a timid purchaser, backs
and advances with his arms dangling.

i ^

350

ST. IVES

■ I've lived a life of sturt

and strife,

i die by treacherie— "

desert Lady Frazer on a Lun-i^r ' °'"'- *'""" ^ ™^ him
'0 satisfy ,,i,„o„ tl,a W : rtef ' "" '^^'^ *^ "»»'

iwoEo^v street runners.-
■it you luive seen i driT-,^ i

k.ck .tau-s .' " sho 4'" '"^ '"«'" '" » S'" •' '• The

" Tliej will 1,0 watched too TK,.t i .
crossed to the tea-,oo,p •„ °i „ ' '«'■« make sure." I
''i..i aside. Was there i',' "'"'"""'^'■■"e a waiter, drew
"e could „„t t , iTe \™;:'' '^"'^■!""S 'l.e back e„tr;„: T
lie 'vent aud, returned ]:\:j^Tt "■"'"'' ''« fl"d out ?
''«s a constable bclo„- •■ r '""""'■■• ^'^' "'ere

l«-'Put to the haw for debt " I '" , " *'"""« So'lcmau to
''-»"« and, to mors l^„,r''"'°"'','-^"'"'"g"'C bar.

^i";"".«," re„lied the „ite,' "'""« "'"»*• -I'"' >.o
A made niv wiv )i.i..i. i

''% clear Mi.s F on .^'^ "nconscion.bla Ol.evenix.
^vas pale enough, poo d j, , w """''" •'" ^^^^^^^J. «i'e
;^i"beswoon^g^.:::^ ;- ^-^^n^^ ''Major,,.

loom, quick ! wJiile I fetch M r-'., /'^ ^'^' *° ^'^^ tea-
taken home." ' ^^''- ^^^c^linst. 8he mu.t he

" It is notliiuir " s1)p p.,u„ -
■■'Yes,yes.- Iwill|w,,re.'' '""«'" '">' ""=»""'?•

■•"»«' A?iui''t;',Tt::™/;t* n'';'"'^'' '° "—•<'-

cf '■i'ih.g from tiK. sro „ to, ! ' ,"'". "'''.''""^ "'"'^ '" the act

"■ •"""«"• ; '"■d I saw (and

ai'ta-.'^ .H

EVENTS OF THURSDAY

351

blessed my star for tl,e first time that night) the little heap
ol silver which told tliat she had been Avinning

hZ^^f'n ^^'''^''"■'■'^'" ^ ^^1^'^Pered, - Miss Flora is faint : the
neat of the room '

pairfelt-"'^ '""''''''^ '^' '^^^'' ^^"tilation is considered

" She wishes to be taken home."

With fine composure she counted back her money, piece
by piece, into a velvet reticule. ^

"Twelve and sixpence," she proclaimed. " Ye hold
good cards, Mr. JJohbie. Well, Moshu tiie N^iscount, w 'II
go and see about it."

I led her to the tea-room : Mr. Ifobbie followed. Flora
os.ed on a sola in a truly dismal stute of collapse, while
the Major fussed about her witli a cup of tea. "I have
sent Konald for the carriage," he announced.

"Hm,'\said Mrs. (Jilchrist, eyeing him oddly, "well
it s your nsk. YeM best hand me the teacup, and get ou
shawls from the lobby. You have the ticketk fif leadv
.'v>r ns at the top of the stairs."

No soonei- M-as the Major gone than, keeping an eye on
her niece this imperturbable lady stirre.l the tea and d-ank
I down lierself. As she draine.l the cup-her back for
the moment being turned on Mr. Hobbic-I was aware of a
facial contortion. Was the tea (as children say) going the
wrong way ? ^ b"'"fe ''"t.

No : I believe-aid me Apollo and the Nine ! I believe
-though 1 have never dared, and shall never dare to ask
-thar, Mrs. Gilchrist was doing her best to wink '

On the instant entered Master Ronald with word that

the carnage was ready. I slipped to the door and recon-

oitred. The crowd was thick in the ball-room ; a dance

n full swing ; my cousin gambolling vivaciously, and, for

the moment, with his back to us. Flora leaned on Ron-

a. ! ,

352

ST. IVES

cloak.. ' '" '^'''""« «'»«! "-ith «„ urmf,,! „f

said u,r„;;rL,T"<':l :",""'™ -<• -i">- jcrseives,-

.a stilt cnrtsev, •' Good „i,,U ' '^''^''''''e"' »'""e with
your service.; Or . to,"- '? ! ' """ ' '"" <""'>•' '-

yo'n be .o ki,K,, Mli, i: ";?;..n^;;:;»,;:;" «;;-'»-> -f

.you V wraps. " "^'^"'* ye-ctill some of

Mj eyes did not dare to bless hpr w
stairs-M,.,s. Gilchrist lead in. P * • ' "^"'"'^ '^'''^ "^«
brotl^er and Mr. Robbie 'Vf ?"^^°'^'^^ ^^ ^'''

descended tlie first stln '!T ''^^^ ^ '^^^'^"d" ^s I

move forward. T 1 f , 'l/'^^-''^'^^^^^ -""-r made a
tern of Mrs. GUcl^X J7" ^

touch n.y arm. Y ^^ r "u^-^, f/,"^''^ ' -^ ^^is finger
The other man-M oLk ' ' 'f f ' ^ ^^ ^'"^'^ ^'^ ^^^^ "•«»•
^vhispered. TJ>ey . v 27 "' '''^ ^^'"^ '^^^ ^''^ ^^^m : they

seeing the ladies to their carri-L i?' "naware ; was

They let n.e pass. '^' ' ^'°"'^ ^^ ^^"rse return.

si.Wt;;:t,;::!^~-^'^^arted round to theda^^

Floraisfaint.1 t fsT ^""'""'•' ^^^'^-)- '' Miss

back under the awni^V" 'A tU:! ?" ' ". "^ ^'^^^^^^

• called up from the other sidt !^T,^ "'^ '' ''''''' '■ "

'^e <h-trkuoss and rain J he „' '^Z '' \ '"^ ^"^ ^^

"•to Robio's dan,p pahn. "Unt T"' '"' 1"'^^^' ''

peered round, but I was bul ! 7 / "'"'' '" "«

The door was slammr ' l^.hu^n'^'^'''' ''^ '''''

EVENTS OF THURSDAY 3^,3

It may have been fancy : but with the shont I seomod
to hear tlje voice of Ahiin lifted in imprecation on the
Assemb y Room stairs. As Robie touclicd up the ..-ov I
wl^pped open the door on my side and tumbled in-^-up^n
Mrs. Gilchrist s lap. ^

I'lora cl,oko.l ilowu a cry. I recovered myself, .hopped
nto . heap of r,,g. „n t|,e .„at faeing the Irfies, and pulled-
to tlie door by its strap.
Dead silence from Mrs. Gilchrist !
I had to apologise, of conrse. The wheels rumbled and
oUcd over tlie cobbles of Edinburgh ; the windows rat-
tled and shook under the uncertain gusts of the city
AV hen we passed a street lamp it shed no light into the
vehicle, bu the awful profile of my protectrest loomed oal
for a second against the yellow haze of the pane, and sank
back into impenetrable shade.

'•Madam, some explanation-enough at least to mitigate
your resentment-natural, I allow " Jolt jolt ' And

certing. Robie for a certainty was driving his best and

t:t:>z:zt'-' *^ '=^' ™' -'^°- ^'^ "«'•-'

wiii'lb'!^"'""^""' "" '"""'^' °' "™ ™"'»'es_if y„„
I stretched out a protesting hand. In tlie darknes, it

For five, ton beatific seconds our pulses sang together <' I
love j™, ! I love yo„ . " i„ the stuffy silence

rPIn™ ' ,!1"' 7™^ ■'" ■'P"'"' "P --"loliberate voice

and ta I of y„ ,r busn,ess-snp|„«ing it to have a modicum
of head, winch I doubt^it appears to n.e that I have iu t

done yon ji serv k^p • -nul ih-^i , j ■ • -= J

y <- ^civi.ii , ana tiiat makes twice.

" A service, madam, 1 shall ever remember."

354

ST. IVES

I'll Cllj

scl\

mce tliafc, sir ; if ye'Jl k

i"(Hy not forget

your-

with a elattor, nd i " ^' w t V'' ' '' ''"" ''' "^'^
forth into the night. '""^ ^"^ mumelone cap

"Ivobio !"

Robie piiiJed up.

" 'J'lie gcntleniiii. will alight ''

I" tho uct of su,j,„i„g fort,, I !;,,„„ ''^'"":','-'=l'««' x'-e.
"itli Kl„,,., a.„l „ y foot caLl ," '""' ''"'"'''''"ko

it ont upon „,„ J,'°° ^..^ j to'r"l T^ """ "'-"SS"'
tlio door liang ,,y ,„j, e„r ^ '""'' " "»' "'"i I'^aiJ

" Mad.'ini — vour shawl ' "

™e'!•'':„d^^::tf'':;■:,';.T;,.'°'■7»'■''^ "- "'..eei, .p,as„o„

^^^ sUmling, alone on tl,e iucleinct liigl,-

roaii, towards Edinbumh Tl ^ ™ ''■>'" "i""" "'<=
'o Plnngo aside, to Ic t L.o 2 r-'"''' ,''"'^ ^^'S''
and tliei-e I crouel.ed tL f rai'i-soaked pasture ;

of flogging drivers, two l^l^tne rr "' "f " *^"'"''"''
gallop. nacsney carnages pelted by at a

_.^t

I'get youv'

mile and a
fi the sash
clone cap

nston. I
I ; and I

>lied she.

nidsliako

dragged

id heard

splashed
lit high-
vehicle,
ding (,f
)on the
enough
isture ;
r danc-
:limpse
jy at a

CHAPTER XXXII

EVENTS OF FRIDAY MOIUNING : THE CUTTING OF THE

GOUDIAN KNOT

I PULLED out my watch. A fickle ray-the merest
filtration of moonlight-glimmered on the dll. Fomteen

hehu ■). -r 'f ^'''' ^""^'^'^'^ «^' the watchman as
e had called it on the night of .M.r escape from the Cas-
t e-its very tones : and this echo of memory seemed to
« rd<e and reverberate the hour closing a long day of fate
'I ndy smce that night the hands had%un ^.llli i^ld

daj I had basked ,n the sunshine of men's respect ■ I

>nfe nal Castle-still hnnted by the law-with possibly a
.smaller chance than ever of escapc-the cockshy oftL
elements-with no shelter for my head but a l^aisley sha
of violent pattern. 1 1 occurred to me that I iiad tmv I d

that matched ncUher it nor the climate of the Pentlands.

Ihe exhilaration of the ball, the fightinjr spirit tlie 1-is^
communicated th.U of Flora', hand! died out :fm:: Jn^
the thickening envelope- of sea fog J felt like a squirrel in
a rotatory cage. That was a lugubrious hour.

_ 10 speak precisely, those were seven lugubrious hours •
mice Flora would not U due before ei.ht </,.ln.k l^Z-
deed, I migiit count on iier eluding her double cordon'of

355

iil

PI.

356

ST. IVES

spies The question wjs, wliither to t.irn i,i tl,o mean
.".« Certainly not buck to tl,e town. In tL no";
.c,gl,bo,„.l,„„d 1 knew of no roof b„t Tbo ir„ntor' 'T J
liy Alexander Jlondrv, Sunno^e tl,.,t l f " ' "'■ ^'J't,
olwncos i„ (l>.,t r ^"Pl'oso that I found it (and tiie

oianocs m that fog were iierhaps against mo) would
Alexander Hendry, aroused from l,is b^l, be liki T x
t :;' "'V''7'"";'^ '" " "■-oiler with no more ulge

I bad borne ,t down the staircase under the eyes of the
.unners and the pattern was bitten upon my Clin
was doubtless unique in the district, and familiar : ™ o,

1 Z: T" 7T !""■""■ "' ^"■'■^ "'■«•"- ""•'■■''■

■«" lustnict of ai.tagomsni. Patently it formed no n.,rt of
my proper wardrobe : hardly eouli it be explain^ a, a
me ,l-u,uour. Eeoentrie hunters trysted under Sndr"
roof : the S.x.Foot Club, for instanee. But a hun e in

at:;„fw':;rbn;;;;'o,,''ed.™'"'^''- ''''"''■ ^™-^ '•°"-

Tlieendwas that I wore through the remaining honrs

O 1 ., t ! Po.ded m the mantle of that Spa.tan dame •
mldld upon a boulder, while the rain dJsoended upon

»1 oe , and nsumated a playful trickle down the ridge of
■ny spnie ; I |,„gged the lacerating fox of self-renroaeh
and ugged it again aud ,,et n,y tc'eth as it bit p' ,r ;

it a?"irV', T"' V'y "" ---'S--'" to heaven'
was as ,f I had pulled the string of a douche-bath
Ileaven flooded the fool with gratuitous tears ^aml

-L UK, IMC- tin>e lucrciruiiy M-iied that Ik u re of
abatement ; and I will lift but a corner of ti>e sheet

EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING

357

"Wind in hidden gullies, uud tlie talk of lapsing waters
on the hillside, filled all the spaces of the night. The
high road lay at my feet, fifty yards or so below my boul-
der. Soon after two o'clock (as I made it) lamps appeared
in the direction of Swanston, and drew nearer ; and two
hackney coac - passed me at a jog-trot, towards the opa-
line haze into which the fog had subdued the lights of
Edinburgh. I heard one of the drivers curse as he went
by, and inferred that my open-handed cousin had shirked
the weather and gone comfortably from the Assembly
Ilooms to Dumbreck's Hotel and bed, leaving the chase to
his mercenaries.

After this you are to believe that I dozed and woke by
snatcihes. 1 watched the moon descending in her foggy
circle ; but I saw also the mulberry face and minatory
forefinger of Mr. Romaine, and caught myself explaining
to him and Mr. Robbie that their joint proposal to mort-
gage my inheritance for a flying broomstick took no ac-
count of the working model of the whole Rock and Castle
of Edinburgh, which I dragged about by an ankle-chain.
Anon I was pelting with Rowley in a claret-coloured chaise
through a cloud of robin-redbreasts ; and with that I
awoke to the veritable chatter of birds and the white light
of dawn upon the hills.

The truth is, I had come very near to the end of my en-
durance. Cold and rain together, supervening in that
hour of the spirit's default, may well have made me light-
headed ; nor was it easy to distinguish the tooth of bclf-
reproach from that oi genuine hunger. Stiff, qualmish,
vacant of body, heart and brain, I left my penitential
boulder and crawled down to the road. GliiJ)cing along it
for sight or warning of the runners, I spied, at two gun-
shots' distance or less, a milestone with a splash of white
upon it — a draggled placard. Abhoi'rent thought ! Did

ii ■^iil

■it

358

ST. IVES

^M^TJ^ "1" "r ^'" '''''' '' Champdivcrs ?
myse f LtTh r^ 7 !^ hirn"_thi; I told

myseli but that which tugged at nij feet was the b-isor
fascination of fri<Wit T l,..ri fi.^. i / ^ ^

the uUrhr. J thought my spine inured by

shfv^ r r ^''""?' '" "'^^'^^""^' '" tJie way of cold
"AERIAL ASCENSION EXTKAOKDINAKY ! I 1

IN
TUB MONSTEK BALLOON,

' LUNAKDI '
PHorE^soR BvK.KLi, (by dipio.na), tl.e world-renowned
Woo.. . '^^P""*""* «f ^"ostaties and Aeronautics

the neighbourhood "

I reached it a little before eight. The quarry Uy to the

EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING

■9

left of the path, which passed on and out upon tlie hill's
northern slope. Upon that slope there was no need to
show myself. I measured out some fifty yards of the path,
and paced it to and fro, idly counting my steps ; for the
chill crept back into my bones if I halted for a minute.
Once or twice I turned aside into the quarry, and stood
there tracing the veins in the hewn rock : then back to my
quarterdeck tramp and the study of my watch. Ten
minutes past eight !' Fool— to expect her to cheat so many
spies. This hunger of mine was becoming serious. .

A stone dislodged— alight footfall on the path— and my
heart leapt. It was she ! She came, and earth flowered
again, as beneath the feet of the goddess, her namesake.
I declare it for a fact that from the moment of her coming
the weather began to mend.

''Flora!"

" My poor Anne ! "

" The shawl has been useful," said I.

" You are starving."

" That is unpleasantly near the truth."

"I knew it. 8ee, dear." A shawl of hodden grey
covered her head and shoulders, and from beneath it she
produced a Small basket and held it up. " The scones will
be hot yet, for they went straight from the hearth into the
najjkin."

8lie led the way to the quarry. I praised her forethought ;
having in those days still to learn that woman's first in-
stinct, when a man is dear to her and in trouble, is to feed
him. We spread the napkin on a big stone of the quarry,
anil set out the feast : scones, oat-cake, hard-boiled eggs,
a bottle of milk, and a small flask of usquebaugh. Our
liands met iis we prepared the table. This was our first
housekeeping; the first breakfast of our honeymoon I
called it, rallying her. "Starving I may be ; out starve I

15««

360

li: 1

ST. IVES

iil'l,

■Hi:

Will in siglit of food, unless you share it " and - Tf

Shf 1 f r^' '"' ^^'^^' >^"" ^«««P«J tJienv" said I

^-r frock and sluuv-r er sho t o'" S ""' '"'~'"^^ ""
inilking at six and T fnli , ^^'/°''- ^''^ goes out to the
They 4 hS:" ' ' '""' ''''• 1^^-- '^^1- i'og helped me.

,',' They are, niy dear. Chevenix "

1 mean these clothes An,i t ... +i • i •
poor cows." ^ ^ '''" thinking, too, of the

^^'^iie insti... ,f animals " I lifted my glass

But, Anne, we must not waste time. Thev are n n
"gm'^t you, and so near. 0, be serious " ' ° '"""^
__ ^ow you are talking lilte Mr. Komaine."

them h, ?• """'' ''""■ '■ " '''" "'"^l*" ''^'- '"»"1^- I took
She wM!^' ^"" '"" *'''''^ "^^ ^^^^'^ to l"t it."

id, " It es-
ko sugar."

our faces
t, and one

upon the

dl.

siking pre-
l— lent me
>ut to the
elj)e(l me.

00, of the

tiy glass,
-e of two

h one of
it came,
so many

I took
I them,

•s "

lears, I
for the

to the
iket of

EVENTS OF FKIBAY MOKNING 301

''I think nothing teaches you," sighed she.

She had sewn them tightly in a little bag of 3 • oiled

tl;;^ "''^'' '\' ^^'^'-"'^^"^ l-yoJngLom, a^d
tuined ,t over in my hand, I saw that it was embroidered
in scarlet thread with the one wonl -Anne" beneath the
L on Kampant of Scotland, in imitation of the poor toy I
had carved for her-it seemed, so long ago !

"I wear the original," she murmured.''
bofV'lfnf ^^'' P'^'fJ'^^' "^y J^^-east pocket, and, taking
Intones '^''"' '" "'^ ^"''' ^'^"^'^ ^'' ^^ t'^^

*' Flora—my angel ! my heart's bride ! "
"Hush ! " She sprang away. Heavy footsteps were
connng up the path. I had just time enough to fling Mrs.
Gilchrist's shawl over my head and resume my seat, when
a couple of buxom country wives bustled past the mouth
of the quarry. They saw «s, beyond a doubt : indeed
hey stared hard at us, and muttered some comment a
they went by and left us gazing at each other,
ihey took us for a picnic," I whispered.

S ^.'^^^"!?,y *'""?'" «^'^^ Flora, -is that they were not
surprised. The sight of you "

-Seen sideways i. this shawl, and with my legs hidden
jlmketeif""' ' '^'^^'' ^''' '"' '"^ ^^^^^'^^^ ^^^^^^

/'This is scarcely the hour for a picnic," answered my
wise girl, - and decidedlv not the weather "

The sound of another footstep prevented my reply.
Ihis time the wayfarer was an old farmer-looking fellow
m a^shcphc,^l3 plaid and bonnet powdered with mist.
He halted before us and nodded, leaning rheumatically on

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iii

362

ST. IVES

"A coarse moarnin'. Ye'll be from Leadbum, Pm
thinkin'?"

" Put it at Peebles/' said I, making shift to pull the
shawl close about my damning finery.

" Peebles ! " he said reflectively. " I've ne'er ventured
so far as Peebles. I've contemplated it ! But I was none
sure whether I would like it when I got thero. See here :
I recommend ye no to be lazin' ower the meat, gin ye'd
drap in for tlie fun. A'm full late, mysel' ? "

He passed on. What could it mean ? We hearkened
after his tread. Before it died away, I sprang and caught
Flora by the hand.

" Listen ! Heavens above us, what is that ? "
" It sounds to me like Gow's version of The Caledonian
Hunt's Delight, on a brass band."

Jealous powers ! Had Olympus conspired to ridicule
our love, tliat we must exchange our parting vows to the
public strains of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, in Gow's
version and a semitone flat ? For three seconds Flora and
I (in the words of a later British bard) looked at er.ch other
with a wild surmise, silent. Then she darted to the path,
and gazed along it down the hill.

" We must run, Anne. There are more coming ! "
We left the scattered relics of breakfast, and, taking
hands, scurried along the path northwards. A few yards,
and with a sharp turn it led us out of the cutting and upon
the open hillside. And here we pulled up together with a
gasp.

Right beneath us lay a green meadow, dotted with a
crowd of two or three hundred people ; and over the nu-
cleus of this gathering, wiiere it condensed into a black
swarm, as of bees, there floated, not only the dispiriting
music of Tlte Caledonian Huufs Delight, but an object
of size and shape suggesting the Genie escaped, from the

EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING

363

Fisherman's Bottle as described in M. Galland's ingenious
Thousand and One Nights. It was Byfield's balloon—the
monster Lnnardi—'m process of inflation.

" ConlouiKl Bylield ! " I ejaculated in my haste.

" Who is Byfield ?"

" An aeronaut, my dear, of bilious humour ; which no
doubt accounts for his owning a balloon striped alternately
witli liver-colour and pale blue, and for his arranging it
and a brass band in the very lino of my escape. That man
dogs me like fate." I broke olf sharply. '• And after all,
why not ?" I cried.

The next instant I swung round, as Flora uttered a
piteous little cry; and there, behind us, in the outlet of
the cutting, stood Major Chevenix and Ronald,

The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a
hand on Flora's arm.

" Yon will come home at once."

I touched his shoulder. "Surely not," I said, "seeing
that the spectacle apparently wants but ten minutes of its
climax."

He swung on me in a passion. "For God's sake, St.
Yves, don't force a quarrel now, of all moments ! Man,
haven't you compromised my sister enough ? "

" It seems to me that, having set a watch on your s^bter
at the suggestion and with the help of a casual Major of
Foot, you might in decency reserve the word 'compro-
mise ' for home consumption ; and further, that against
adversaries so poorly sensitive to her feelings, your sister
may be pardoned for putting her resentment into action."

"Major Chevenix is a friend of the family." But the
lad blushed as he said it.

" The family ? " I echoed. " So ? Pray did vour aunt
invite his help ? Ko, no, my dear Ronald ; you cannot
answer that. And while you play the game of insult to

364

ST. IVES

your sister, sir, I „iU ,ee ttat you eat the discredit of
'■As^nZZU'T''"'"^"'^ ^'''°'' '''PV'ng forward.

Miss Gilchrist lias been traced to tlio hill i ! '

occurred to n. fl.of fi " ' ^"^ »« it secretly

™ j; :r r:= Sd^; 'r £™-. r

cried, and flung out „ i,a„d. "" ' ''"

I looked up Sure enough, at that instant a grey-coatcd

n.y friend of the molesic „ taistcoa ani T "*'^ '^
sidling down the slope towards t ' "" ^'^ ^"™

thI,ks°""Y"'"'>i'* '' "" "PP^™ 'hat I owe you my
thanks Your stratagem in any case was kindly ,„ea™t "

stiffly" ™ """ ''""''™' '» ^o-'dor," said'tho M

"y ae qZt' pth' ' "j *"*• f • ^'^^ • ^""'^ » <"•«» back

"Th^lr ^ ^ , "'■'''"'* ^ <•<"»'' hinder."
T ...n ™^7°','' ,'">'''■'«"<'.■ I have another notion Flora "

Jrtrterw -sCcr r r "-t ■^''"" '

your thoughts go with t TiStcof : ^^^^ ''''-' ' ^^

hof htdt:; s^ngtr tSr ^ '-*-• ^ -^^-^

I heard a shout behind me; and, glancing back, saw my

EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING

3(15

pursuers— three now, with my full-bodied cousin for wliip-
per-in— change their course as I leapt a brook and headed
for tlie crowded inclosure. A somnolent fat man, bulging,
like a feather-bed, on a three-legged stool, dozed at tire re-
ceipt of custom, with a deal table and a bowl of sixpences
before him. I dashed on him with a crown-piece.

"No change given," he objected, waking up and fum-
bling with a bundle of pink tickets.

" None required." I snatched the ticket and ran through
the gateway.

I gave myself time for another look before mingling with
the crowd. The moleskin waistcoat was leading now, and
had reached the brook ; with red-head a yard or two behind,
and my cousin a very bad third, panting-.-it pleased me to
imagine how sorely- across the lower slopes to the east-
ward. The janitor leaned against his toll-bar and still
followed me with a stare. Doubtless by my uncovered
head and gala dress he judged me an all-night reveller— a
strayed Bacchanal fooling in the morroAv's eye.

Prompt upon the inference came inspiration. I must
win to the centre of the crowd, and a crowd is invariably
indulgent to a drunkard. I hung out the glaring sign-
board of crapulous glee. Lurching, hiccupping, jostling,
apologising to all and sundry with spacious incoherence, I
plunged my way through the sightseers, and they gave me
passage with all the good-humour in life.

I believe that I descended upon that crowd as a godsend,
a dancing rivulet of laughter. They needed entertain-
ment. A damper, less enthusiastic companv never gath-
ered to a public show. Though the rain had ceased, and
the sun shone, those who possessed umbrellas were not to
be coaxed, but held them aloft with a settled air of gloom
which defied the lenitives of nature and the spasmodic
cajolery of the worst band in Edinburgh. " It'll be near

366

ST. IVES

p m'

III'

fulJ, Jock?" ''It Willi" -iTp'in , .• ,

" Aiblius hn wnll " 'will f, ^V^'"'^"^ in a meenit ?"

I"--?" ''I shla wo l'^\V:'^'^;"^^'^'^^--
^ad we come to bury Byfield not to 'l^- '' "^^ '^'''
l^ave displayed a blitlerttetst '''"'' ^""^ ^^^ "^^"g^^^

proceedings witli a mien of , tn! "^ ^'""^ '''™'''' «'«
»ay have been ea.ol ^glh" " i:;''™"'','''''''""- "«
""> front, l,is imder.,ngs„re shift,';, ^^ "'"*'='"' «"
veyed the hvdi-ogen ..■,? 1^^^!.^ V * ' '"'* '''"■'■'' <^»"-

»' it« ropes. .sCc;;'tratS'tr'™'r'' ^""">-

«toggmng into the eloa/s,,acob;„fath "'"'' '"" "'"

^__ And ho,.„ a voice hailed and fetohedmo up ,v,-tha,.on„d

'' Oucie, by all that's friend I v r pi
and prop o,„,^,,,, ,;::;::;^,;„„,']^-'e,f ». .outh

™<! with an air ofli Z™, iCl •'''^'"' ',''''™'- '° «"'■"' ^
»" »ii- so indescnbd V -^ ' """"''^'' clevemess-

oonldlmvebts dw^4!° '""''''"f^ "'""^-'' "-' I

" You'll excuse me if I don't let o-n t? . •
keeping it „„ a bit all nig t Bvfcld^" "'"' ™ '"'"'
Pat-ate in reahns .,nt,.„dde,rb;- the tl oj^:- -'° ^

" Tf ''"''"'■<^"' «f*«» on pinion, deave tLe »ir

sSjthistlfe;;^"''" '■" '"^ ^o-'^- ^-'ardi. One
and the r^ "tt ^ ^r^lL^T-T" ''™'' '
e»Py.ean. Bat W,, eon.e b'aorXn ^^1.:^!

EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING

367

come back!— and begin tlie dam business over again.
Tha's tlie law 'gravity 'cording to Byfield."

Mr. Dalmahoy concluded inconsequently witii a vocal
imitation of a post-horn ; and, looking up, J saw the head
and shoulders of Bylield projected over the rim of the
car.

He drew the natural inference from my dress and de-
meanour, and groaned aloud.

" 0, go away-get out of it, Ducie ! Isn't one natural
born ass enongli for me to deal with ? You fellows are
guying tlie whole show !"

'' Byfield ! " 1 called up eagerly, " I'm not drunk. Reach
me down a ladder, quick ! A hundred guineas if you'll
take me with you !" I saw over the crowd, not ten deep
behind me, the red head of the man in grey.

" That proves it," said Bylield. - Go awav ; or at least
keep quiet. I'm going to make a sj)ecch." He cleared his

throat. " Ladies and gentlemen "

I held up my packet of notes. - Here's the money —
for pity's sake, man ! There are bailiffs after me, in the
crowd ! "

" the spectacle which you have honoured with your

enlightened patronage ^I tell you I can't." He cast a

glance behind him into the car '• with your enlightened

patronage, needs but few words of introduction or com-
mendation."

" Hear, hear ! " from Dalmahoy.

''Your attendance proves the sincerity of your inter-
est "

I spread out the notes under his eyes. He blinked, but
resolutely lifted his voice.

'' The spectacle of a solitary voyager "

" Two hundred ! " I called up,

''The spectacle of two hundred solitary voyagers—

368

i::i

ST. IVES

■Ihere was a lurch .in,l „ • • '"" <■«"<=«• ?"

ootU,ed™nke„C!"eri:.;'T'" "^f """'O- "P'^h

■ny cousin bawling for a ' it n ' °" '"'' "' '' ^ h^ort

™y eye I caught a g il^ ' /'T^"; "■'* *e tail of

face as he came chargf^ «,„ h" ''"""'"' ^''i>'"'^S

Wamtus ; and, witiAl.S 'itVj ^ , 7f f "'« hydrogen^

ladder and fixed it .„„! I " ^''"''"n down a rone

;;Cut the r^of;""' ' ""^ '^'■™''ling up li,<e a cat '^

^^i^Z^Z2:Zl^^- " «'»P "» balloon ,

hand clutched at ^ to '1^ T '°"'« '"» "^^^ A
of the crowd; felt the kick 1°"^'"?"''^'"'""'^ ""ar
»mebody's teeth ; and as the 'I" "'"' '•""'" ''""e on
balloon swayed and shot , ,"!ard h "'1' " "'''' -«• "'e
r.m into the car. "l>»ard., heaved myself over the

-Recovei-iiig mvsplf ^n *i ■ ,
»y tongue a ..eaffairel f r^tin''/ f^ "'''■ "»" »„
dred upturned and contorted ft" '"""«''">''' b""-
»'«bt- There had Iain my reaf „??'''"''' ""' "" « "o^-
boast rage now suddenly baffled r' '" J'"" '-ddenwild-
Pnnt, and sickened. Kor™ a,' • '"^ "' "^ olear as
My kick had sent Moleski; flWnt !"V" "iT '"'' '» "='on.
to earth, prone beneath tte 2el '' f '"'" ' """^ ''""'O
retainer he lay with ha, I '^f ""'""'on' bnlk of his
-d nose buriod'in the ^^y sj^ ""'^ " -'«

rope-

CHAPTER XXXIII

"THE UNCOMPLETE AERONAUTS"

n.mbli„g bass, l^^' 'Zl,:i ^^^P^," .'° « >ow,

voice caught iin thp <,.,.„„, '"'""J'' ™'<!e after
Whole encLre^Jg Si™' """''''*'' " -'" "-

Lo,d, it/Dalmaho "" " '° '"^ ""^ "' "'^ "'•^- " Good
had been tZ" eut ! le tT" "i"; "" ^l'^' ^o

jt hew hi, grasp, trLdi'th ,Vtr,;t ::r rr"

tokmg even the asinine precaution to It "". '°'''''

round his wrist Of „ ^ ™'"™ 'o loop the end twice

loon had heT^ d him offTV 1' "T"''" '"«" °' «« bal-
did the res cLnw"' '''''";'' '"•^"'•'Wled instinct

hornealoftlikearh^fortlotc/"" """"' '' "-

floorof theear i7^°f! T' T '"^^'''^ heaeafh the
to cast the grZ^nel loo^ .' T*""' ''^ "'' ^^ '"»Wed

.„ , ^. „, . - ""'^ ^» ^ tafccn the anchor when it

oomes! l^onl, break ,„„r neck if 'J^nZ;'
** 869

r«

I f(

370
He

ST. IVKS

nS i"'r;s\' "«!"." ''f ^""'J ">^ "xlgo of the floor.

and uplifted a strained, .vliite face.

it tovv-

piist it like a pendulum, caught it

ig cu„c and missed again. At the third attemnt ho
blundered nght against it, and flnng an arm overT, l ,

t.^tThrd'."'"^'""" '" ' '"•— - -»«■■«'.;•.

voll'l e."*''"' """^ '"''°""- "' ™ !""« "«>' ""defeatedly

Thank vo : fi ? ""J ■"'*"" '■•■'™ '«^" "■'"■•'' too
Ihank you, Byfield my boy, I will : two fingers onlv-a
harmless steadier." " onij— a,

He took tlie flask and was lifting it. Bnt his ,W
dropped and hi, hand Inmg arrested ■"

II He's going to faint," I eried. " The strain "

btram on yonr grandmother, Ducie ! What's /hat 9"

He was star.ng past my shoulder, and on the in to t.
was aware of a voieo-not the .oronaut's-speak ng be
hind me and, as it were, out of the clouds,- ^

"I take ye to witness. Mister Byflcld— L"
Consider if yon please. For si.x days I had been oseil-
h t ng w, h,n a pretty eomplete eircumferenee of aC

nice a pnot I quivered and swung to this new apprehen
sion like a needle in a compass box apprehen-

On the floor of the car, at my feet, lay a heap of plaid
rugs and overcoats, from which, successively and paWulIv
here emerged first a hand clutching a rusty beaver hat'
next a mildly indignant face in specLles, aifd flnl Iv tt
rearward of a very small man in a seedy suit of black He
rose on his knees, his finger-tips resting on the floo , and

((

THE INCOMPLETE AEliONAUTS "

371

jaw

contemplated the uerouuut over liis glasses with a world of
reproach.

" 1 take ye to witness, Mr. By field ! "

Byfield mopped a perspiring brow.

" My dear sir/' he stammered, "nil a mistake-no fanlt
of mme-explain presently" ; tlien, as one catcliing at an
inspiration, "Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Dahnahoy
Mr. " ■"

"My name is Sheepshanks," said the little man stiffly
*' But you'll excuse me " "

Mr. Dalmahoy interrupted with a playful cat-call
- Hear, hear ! Silence ! ' His name is Sheepshanks.
On the Grampian Hills his father kept his flocks-a thou-
sand sheep '-and, I make no doubt, shanks in proportion.
Lxcuse you. Sheepshanks ? My dear sir ! At this alti-
tude one shank was more than we had a right to expect •
the pluml multiplies the obligation." Keeping a ti^ht
hold on his hysteria, Dalmahoy steadied himself by a roi)e
and bowed. '■

-And I, sir,^'_as Mr. Sheepshanks' thoroughly bewil-
dered gaze travelled around and met mine-- 1 sir -im
tiie Vicomte Anne de Keroual deSt. Yves, at your service.
1 haven t a notion how or why ,v y. come to bo h<M-e ; but
you seem likely to be an acquisition. On my part," I con-
tinued, as there leapt into my mind the stanza I had
vamly tried to recover in Mrs. McHankine's sitting-room,
1 have the honour to refer you to the inimitable Roman
Jl'iaccus —

* Virtus, recludens immeritis niori
Coelum negata temptat iter via,
Coetusque vulgaris et udam
Spernit huraum fugiente penna.'

—you h.ave the Latin, sir ? "

"Not a word." He subsided upon the pile of rugs and

f !

J <!(

873

ST. IVE8

«prcacl out his hands in protest.
Mr. BvfifiM f " ^

Mr. Byfield

((

Th(

I tak' ye to witness,

He added thutltw! «»"«"ltnig hi, baromete,..

of Edi«bu,-rclirL „*,,!'''' """-'"'" "^ "- '»"" folly
(l.e explained) ^0 t^ Hfa T ";'"",""'°"- "' '"'^

>ineltTr,-o™ar";:d'i;ie"'™';^;'; " ^'"«"-" »■■» » «

concave, ite horizons o„„T„"t, life \l r' '^''™' «''°"''
bowl_a bowl hoined in „ • yj. ° ""' "' "■ •'''■'"o'v

our eyes X IZ , 'do,ic::f ^ d dl f " ""■'"=' ""' '»
syllabub of snow uZTTiu . 'f}'"^ '" " '"'Wed
balloon became ; sSiow „ . f" ""'" ''"^""- »' *^
might call it) miJd „f !^> ■"" ' "" '""otliyst (you

rather by tl^ p„.„^L ''"''"' ""^ "° P"™ptible wind,
J mc jjuaSg or tne sun .s rfl,v<^ flio f„^^u ^ ,

parted ; and then behold, deep i , ^t ' .^ ■°°'' '""'

"nd shining, an acre or tvo oTt e et^, ^"''.7"'"^''

"THE INCOMPLETE AEK0NAUT8 " 373

waved it • f n 1 ■ !^^T '^' «'^ tJ^e bruve Imud tliat

n^.u.ir in many things, she was at one with (1... ,.,... f
.- s. .„ ,t. „,aive ana incrable distn.t:n;,::;^„ I::,:!

Either I faile 1 i '™ rt„ ".f ^"'^.'-"'e.. growth,
.ny descent of the ''Dovr«'l^^l' ' ".,"''' """"°"^ "^

th;. I .. a oh..e„rr'X:,rtr^j,ri

rollinff stoi.P . in.. • *^^ *^"'^"^' '^''^e of a

to the q„1 fle Zmm It "' "'" """• ^™»

wa*, a:dT.«:St'^^f "',"" ^"'"'^*' "-'^O "P-

on.y V .oadi^tho b:i:t: rttr ir-'-,

paper overboard, could we tell tl,.,rtl u^ "P* °'

all. No. and agaia we iZMw ly To Bvlld"™' "'
pass nformed us hi,t f„,. „ , ^ ' "yndd's com-

it. Of diz. „e,s I felt ,0 r ' ™' " '""* ™™'- S-^^^ed

1 1

fMJ

874

ST. IVES

TZTJl' ""'"'^ ™'»' "-< -ot been le.

original sin

conscious of

But look here, you kn

puteme,„adeviLbawktrf^Uit'„""''^^' and this
ooitdoes/'I ao-,.eo,j ** Vr... , .•

Byfiold began to in-itat ^ f t„ IdlT"?' '""■•"
"Perhaps /'said I, .<„r. Sheepilrtil' It '™'-
I paid in advanop " Mr qi! i , t)xpuin.

-ize tl opening™ Ited- 'TZu^T' '''"' '"
man.'^ "^^^^ ^^^^ ^s, I'm a married

Proctttr '™ P"'"" ^"" '>^- "» -<'™"'age of n,

na™o^Mr."!!L^°°'' ^™"«'' J^' »»- '» give n,o your
;'The Vicomte Anne de Kiironal de St. Yves "

Mr. Sheepshank, harked bacf at'"' "" ™«^-"
and-d'ye see '-Vr, SI,L i , " ""arried man,

''»s no sympathy wh h 7 '"'' "' ■'"" ""«''* =«y
of Dumfries "^ balloon.ng. She was a Guthri

;; Whieh aceonnts for it, to be snre," said I

beenana,Li:;;^::^;'^»-^r;te?t'"'' "7 'T

even, I sav fpvm a- i-u ■ ' ^' ' I might

eyes'shoneMSd',, tiirr "f- rV""-". ",'' '"""

an ascension there in October '85. He came d„™

i -^■■'^'Miia.iia-^iYini»iinnii.iiiiii mjn i, ■. .

nscious of

Id at my
and this

'•selfasol-
iirof ns."
last mo-
ted for."
towaway.

Tl."

eager to
married

e of us.

Qe your

til have
)yage."
(3 man,
it say,
Juthrie

5 long

might
i mild
incent
en ho
down

"the incomplete Ai'KONAUTS" 376

at Cupar. The Society of Gentleman Golfers at Cupar
presented him with an address ; and at Edinburgh he was
udmitted Knight Companion of the Beggar's Benison, a
social company, or (as I may say) crew, since defunct, 'a
tlnn-faced man, sir. He wore a peculiar bonnet, if I
may use the expression, very much cocked up behind. The
sliape became fashionable. He once pawned his watch
with me, sir ; that being my profession. 1 regret to say
he redeemed it subsequently ; othe le I might have the
pleasure of showing it to you. 0 yes, the theory of
ballooning lias long been a passion with me. But in
deference to Mrs. Sheepshanks I have abstained from tlie
actual practice— until to-day. To tell you the truth, my
wife believes me to be brusliing off the cobwebs in the
Kylesof Bute."

"Are there any cobwebs in the Kyles of Bute ? " asked
Dalmahoy, in a tone unnaturally calm.

"A figure of speech, sir— as one might say, holiday-
keeping there. I paid Mr. Bytield five pounds in advance.
I hiive his receipt. And the stipulation was that I should
be concealed in the car and make the ascension with liim
alone."

" Are we then to take it, sir, that our company offends
you ?" I demanded.

_ He made haste to disclaim. " Not at all : decidedly not
in the least. But the chances were for far less agreeable
associates." I nodded. " And a bargain's a bargain," he
wound up.

-So it is," said I. -Byfield, hand Mr. Sheepshanks
back his five pounds."

"0, come now!" the aeronaut objected. "And who
may you be to be ordering a man about ?"

'•I believe 1 have already answered that question twice
in your hearing."

376

kill.

ST. IVES

"Mosha the Visconnf ti •
other ? I dare say I' ^^""g^^^y de Soinething-or-

,';^^^®y<^u any objection ? -
JNot the smallest. For '.11 t .
Burns, or Kapoleon Buonaml ' ^^" ^'^ ^^^^^t

Mother of the Grace n to BaT'!^ 7 "'^^^^^"^ f^'°«i the
first as Mr. Ducie and v ' ^''' ^"* ^ ^"^w you

Don't see.>' H Veaehe/" "? *f ' ^' '^^^* ^'- ^^-
string. ^'^''^ "^ ^ ^^a^d towards the valve-

II What ?_baek to the enclosure ? -

curreS a^rlTlli^^^^^^^^^ 'T ^^^"^^ ^ ^^^^^^^
hour, perhap . Thatt Z ^ t '^*' '^ *^'^^^ °^"es an
make it out." ''' ^^'^^ ^^^ *« ^he south of us, as I

" But why descend at all ? '^

title, f„,. that Ltt'rwS d IV™" ' .'^'"^'^ • -d % a
I took it at the time for acl, u - T"'' '''"' " ^^oimt."
Imve my strong doTbtr" ' '""'' ' ■"" ' '"'gi" to

The fellow was danaeroiK T .*„„ j
pretence of piclciu. up TdIm V ? ^n^'-Iantly, „„
terlj- cold of a sudfe/ '^ ^ ' '" "'' "'^ '""^ t"med bit-

"*.'f 't;;Cid he7^ '"■.'•™'» -' " ^O" -"•»

We leaned to««,er over ;,k'''""^ "'" ™'™-=tri„g.
I mistalce not ?' I saM ""'.''.'•'"'='™' »' tl^e car. « i,
Champdiver"" ' "^'"'""^ '""' "'h" »ame was

He nodded.

" The gentleman who raised ihoi- v ^^ ^ .
"f/;-^ was nry own eou'r^e ^ii^^tV''^"''"^
.'ve ,o„ my word of ironour to that." oLelvi^^IhaJ

THE INCOMPLETE AEKONAUTS

'617

this staggered liim, I added, mighty slyly, " I suppose it
doesn't occur to you now that the whole affair was a game
for a friendly wager ? "

" No," he answered, brutally, " it doesn't. And what's
more, it won't go down."

"In that respect," said I, with a sudden change of key,
" it resembles your balloon. But I admire the obstinacy
of your suspicions; since, as a matter of fact, I am
Champdivers."

" The mur "

" Certainly not. I killed the man in fair duel."

"Ha!" He eyed me witli sour distrust. "That is
■what you have to prove."

" Man alive, you don't expect me to demonstrate it up
here, by the simple apparatus of ballooning ! "

"There is no talk of 'up here,'" said he, and reached
for the valve-string.

" Say ' down there ' then. Down there it is no business
of the accused to prove his innocence. By what I have
heard of the law, English or Scotch, the boot is on the
otlier leg. But I'll tell you what I can prove. I c'an
prove, sir, that I have been a deal in your company of
late ; that I supped with you and Mr. Dalmahoy no longer
ago than Wednesday. You may put it that we three are
here together again by accident ; that you never sus-
pected me ; that my invasion of your machine was a com-
plete surprise to you, and, so far as you were concerned,
wholly fortuitous. But ask yourself what any intelligent
jury is likely to make of that cock-and-bull story." Mr.
Byfield was visibly shaken. "Add to this," I proceeded,
" that you have to explain Sheepshanks ; to confess that
you gulled the public by advertising a lonely ascension,
and haranguing a befooled multitude to the same intent,
when, all the time, you had a companion concealed in the

378

ST. IVES

least charitable olloMs^^^^r'"' ^■'"'"''' "P™ "«
g"rae ill Edinburgh is „„ ' ti,» f'n'-''''", ""^ ""'» y""'
■'»d yc. ascension, "f aii^'Z ^ .'it'^ohl"'™' °' ^™
crowd con hi liave told von 'rh! " '" '""''"y's

you in the face; and next tn,,. '"' '™' "'"'•" »'""'«

■"•«t leoognise t. cCid I'^T T' '""•'"'"' ™""y
g"i»easf„rtheeo„ven°e,,celf\ r'T ^■°" '"•" '""'<'™'
tl.at offer „„ conditio" t!^ ?V""'' '*'."''""• ' '«>"' ''»"1'1«
t.-ip, and that y , p, , teTt°'''V''-?'"" ''"""S "'i^

'" By all means " T I , sfcammered.

M,-. Sheepshanks to ^^'ac^c:;: b!^ ™^' "^ ""'^'"^

iJns will be whiskey," the htiU
nounced: ''three bottlp. \t ^''^/'"'^ pawnbroker an-
der, ye'll find wb" k '^t,, ^^i ! -'^^^ 'S-ely, Elshen-
will/ said I, ' but Fm JT ^ ^''""- ' ^'^ ^^^"bt I
«nd it's a 4 s en' r ,-r^ confident of its quality;

planned from GrT;„ock'to Jh!?; '''; ''''^^"^'^'^^^' -'
^^nd thence coastwLeTs^J^.^^f"^ ^"*« ^"^ back,
told l-r,ifshe l^afan.^^^^^^^^^^ I

l^er letter to the c.re of ?^ communicate, to address
- care of .he postmaster, Ayr-ha, ha I"

((

THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS"

379

lie broke off nnd gazed reproiichfully into Dalmalioy's im-
passive face. "Ayr— air," he explained : "a little play
upon words."

"8kyo would have heen better," suggested Dalniahoy,
without moving an eyelid.

"Skye? Dear me -capital, capital I Only you see,"
lie urged, " she wouldn't expect me to be in Skye."

A minute later he drew me aside. " Excellent company
your friend is, sir ; most gentlemanly manners; but at
times, if I may say so, not very gleg."

My hands by this time were munb with cold. We had
been ascending steadily, and Byficld's English thermom-
eter stood at thirteen degrees. I borrowed from the heap
a thicker overcoat, in the pocket of which I was lucky
enough to find a pair of furred gloves ; and leaned over
for another look below, still with a corner of my eye for
the aeronaut, who stood biting his nails, as far from me as
the car allowed.

The sea-fog had vanished, and the south of Scotland lay
spread beneath us from sea to sea, like a map in monotint.
:N'ay, yonder was England, with the Solway cleaving the
coast— a broad, bright spearhead, slightly bent at the tip
—and the fells of Cumberland beyond, mere hummocks
on the horizon ; all else flat as a board or as the bottom of
a saucer. White threads of high-road connected town to
town : the intervening hills had fallen down, and the
towns, as if in fright, had shrunk into themselves, con-
tracting their suburbs as a snail his horns. The old poet
was right who said that Olympians had a delicate view.
The lace-makers of Valenciennes might have had the trac-
ing of those towns and high-roads ; those knots of guipure
and ligatures of finest meaw-work. And when I consid-
ered that what I looked down on— this, with its arteries
and nodules of public traffic— was a nation j that each

380

ST. IVES

"en-roost ; it o,,mo i to 1 m Z,"', ''" ^''°'"'™^'' -^
blem was the bee, and tlZZ"! "l"' '"^ ^'"I'oror's e„,.
onough. "'" ^"t""' 'I'e spider's web, sure

it- It'^acrstpostt::!:^:"""" y" »«". and accept

"ow ,nade ,„e ..ffj;."! groVr.,".";';.', ^o" r"'^^ ^•-'

eo.ve „ part of tbera to be trae ' a '"■"''' """ ' P^'-
amb,tion-how can i,e help it t, ''"?"'">'' «'■■. has
papers feed it for a while -til' f! ''^''''"'' ""^ ""s-
Plaud him. But i„ its h^i H, ""',?■"" *"""•' ""'^ »P-
the mountebank, and se™,'t ?".""= ™"''^ ''™ « h
««d of his tricks. Twl'! rf. '" '*™P "■» "hen
sometimes ? p„r i„ ,, o™.! , " '■■" '"' '"S''^ 'his
tebank-„o, by God, he islot I " * '" '' ""' ■""»•">-
Jhe man spoke With gennine passion, j ,,„„„, ^^

""o*;f/t:f;trmrk. ""^ ""•"• ' "^^ ^»" w".

He shook his hpnr? ffnu
that is.- '''^- ^^^^ ^^^-e true, sir ; partly true,

"I am not so sure A h^iir.
to discover, may alte; the per letive of'" ^"'.'"' ' ^^^>"
Here are the notes ; and on thetorA?"'^'' ' ambitions,
^vord that you are not It „^'^ ^^ them I give you my
should the Zunardi be able ! ?^ ^^y'^'nal- How long

" I have never tr ed it h f t 'T*'"^ ^^^^^^ '" «>"r ? "
-say twenty.four :; a pi^eh " "'"^^^^ "^ ^^"^^ ^^-s

" We will test it. Thecurrpnf t
or from that to .orth-by^t^ti IS ^e^ r*"^"''

"the incomplete AEliOXAUTS"

381

He consulted the barometer. "Something under three
miles."

Dulmahoy heard and whooped. " Hi ! you fellows,
come to lunch! Sandwiches, shortbread, and cleanest
(ilenlivet— Elshender's Feast :—

' Let old Tomotheua yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown ;
He raised a mortal to the skies *

Sheepshanks provided the whiskey. Rise, Elshender

observe that you have no worlds left to conquer, and hav-
ing shed the perfunctory tear, pass the corkscrew. Come
along, Dueie ; come my Daedalian boy ; if you are not
hungry, I am, and so is— Sheepshanks— What the dickens
do you mean by consorting with a singular verb ? Ver-
bum cum nominativo—l should say, so are slicepshanks."

Byfield produced from one of the lockers a pork pie and
a bottle of sherry (the viaticum in choice and assortment
almost explained the man) and we sat down to the repast.
Dalmahoy's tongue ran like a brook. He addressed Mr.
Sheepshanks with light-hearted impartiality as Philip's
royal son, as the Man of Ross, as the divine Clarinda. He
elected him Professor of Marital Diplomacy to tlie Univer-
sity of Cramond. He passed the bottle and called on him
for a toast, a song— "Oblige me, Sheepshanks, by making
the welkin ring." Mr. Slieepslianks beamed, and g:ive us
a sentiment instead. Tlie little man was enjoying iii.nself
amazingly. "Fund of spirits your friend lias, to be sure,
sir, quite a fund."

Either my own spirits were running low or the bitter
cold had congealed them. I was conscious of my thin
ball suit, and moreover of a masterful desire of sleep. I
felt no inclination for food, but drained hnlf a tumblerful
of the Sheepshanks' whiskey, and crawled beneath the pile

S^e

382

ST. IVKS
""certainty in my tS ""■" """«'" "'""' ««cent of

dreams I l,eai-d n.,l„, i '*>'"' "'" "'tornoo,). I„

voices i„ ri° :; ;;f :; t?''^"^"^ "■«"« *" 'i:

that they were growing t'pro" „,L T, '""f '"'"^ "^•■"•e
Po>.tt,Iati„g,„pp,„„„t|;i,'l;'°;' »■«• I I'eard Byfiold ex-

timt Slieepshanlis liad stum r, ' """^ '''^' *» A"''

with an empty bottle th'mn, T "''"'= '"'"^"■'"i"g.
" Oid Hielaid spo ts " xnlZTn f *"'™« *''« ™'«'r

Of vain langLter": " hi:t Ll"; ^if^'s""?? "=""
iw=,I,-„ ,.„.. ...'."-"'r^s out m the

Porty-five. Sorry'to ^ eTo rDtJ^'-f'f T "" '" ""
It did not occnr to me to sn,!t^ 7 ""'' ™^ ''"'«' ■"

I turned over and d" ed a'aif '"'^" '" """ '°™'«»'«'7-

It seemed but a mimue later that -Lh, ■ ■
woke me ; with a stab of pat ■ tl ™ '® " '">' "'•"•»

l-omg split with a wedge of/, ^^ "'^ """I*''^* ""■■0
name cried aloud, and sat m, t" r , '""'"" ' '"»"•'' ™y
broad flood of moonhV^ "' ' "' "'^''"^^ '''"'Wnjr in a

Dalraahoy. ^'" ''™'' ''g'""^' "'o agitated fa'ce oit

iapse"dTkZre''tttro!it mtr";;' '"•' "' ""^ ''^'' »>-

a-^play. Across bis leg" " ' ' '' "■'"' '"8^ """ a™s
'oci^er, reclined Sheepsbfn'k ''d ' f^'^"'^ '«'""«' «
approving smile. " aX ,',r f ^ '' ,"''"'""'^ '""' an
■nahoy, between gasps s TY ""''^'"""^ ^al-

can't carry his liqSor^l ke a .^e 2' """' ,"""'"""«'"">'« i
both of ns pitcl! out ball' sf:r,- "™'«l" i' f"""/
«rst thing in the world ote th^i I -T ''" '""P^^'
aWe to reason. No holdi„. «, j* f .P"''" "'J'*"' 'n>™-

*■ Sheepshanks ; Byfleld got him

THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS "

383

down ; too late : faint. Sheepshanks wants ring for 'shist-
ance : i^ulls string : breaks. When the string breaks Lii-
nanli won't fall— tlia's the devil of it."

" With my tol-de-rol," Mr. Sheepshanks murmured.
"Pretty— very pretty."

I cast a look aloft. Tiie Lunnrdi was transformed : every
inch of it frosted as with silver. All the ropes and cords
ran with silver too, or liquid mercury. And in the midst
of this sparkling cage, a little below the hoop, and five feet
at least above reach, dangled the broken valve-string.

"Well," I said, "you have made a handsome mess of it.
Pass me the broken end, and be good enough not to lose
your head."

"I wish I could," he groaned, pressing it between his
palms. " My dear sir, I'm not frightened, if that is your
meaning."

I was, and horribly. But the thing had to be done. The
reader will perhaps forgive me for touching shyly on the
next two or three minutes, which still recur on the smallest
provocation and play bogey with my dreams. To balance
on the edge of night, quaking, gripping a frozen rope ; to
climb and feel the pit of one's stomach slipping like a
bucket in a fathomless well~I suppose the intolerable
pains in my head spurred me to the attempt— these and the
nrgent shortness of my breathing-much as a toothache
will drive a man up to the dentist's chair. I knotted the
broken ends of the valve-string and slid back into the car :
then tugged the valve open, wliile with my disengaged arm
I wiped the sweat from my for-head. It froze upon the
coat-cuff.

In a minute or so the drumming in my ears grew less
violent. Dalmahoy bent over the aeronaut, who was bleed-
ing at the nose, and now began ic- breathe stertorously.
N^heepshanks had fallen into placi(. amber. I ke the

! \\

i ■

384
va]ve

ST. IVES

of fog_
I'Jsen : the

coat of silver. By.„„d Z ' ,.r "' '" "= oongelatod
1"" «^ «.e fog, an'd 1^^^:Zu^!J'"f ^' "^™
rcsonmg solitary serans .,,,,1 .1!. . "^ '""'"""' "«.

oy- opened and sl,„t onT:Z'ljoT:- ^'""^ ""^
oh'mneys, more and more uZZt T f r V" ^'""'"■•f
P»ss. Our course lav soiUlT / '.""'"''' "'« "»»'-
"bouts ? Dalmahoy i^ei,r»L { Jf'- ""' °"'- ''l""'"-
»d thencefor>vard'i le Si f '"CT'' '"'"«"-

I pulled out mv ivatol, „ , t , ^ "''''' """""l on.
and found it ru^d w1 ' T "t ' '"V'-S""- '» ''-I ;
»te past four. DrvLht , ' ?'' "' '"''""^ ""''

Eighteen hours-sa/twfat; 2 7;^'?, T' "^ '^ «"•

«n™oasti.°z„,jste;fT;;,:oi: t^;:""! -^--d

and Its voice faded back with tl„ '""gmg surf,

M.ing haven. ' "'" S"'"""^'- »' a white-washed

::i^'.eB„gti?ci.:X„'ar-^"
1 saj — are jou sure ? "

ward^wiih'aX™::' ^^«^'^' «■"»« "P and coming for-

" The Engl'ish Chan-^-] "
J^Tke French flddiestiei," said he with o,ual prompt-

TIIK INCOMPLETE AEUONAUTS "

885

It was not worth

" 0, ]iavo it as you please ! " I retorted,
arguing with the man.

"What is the hour?"

I told him tliat my watch had run down. His hud done
the same. Dulmalioy did not carry one. We searched the
still prostrate Sheepshanks : his had stopped af ten min-
utes to four. Byfield replaced it and underlined his dis-
gust with a kick.

** A nice lot/' ho ejaculated. " I owe you my thanks,
Mr. Ducie, all the same. It was touch and go with us, and
my head's none the better for it."

*' But I say," expostulated Dalmahoy. " France I This
is getting past a joke."

"So you are really beginning to discover that, are
you ? "

Byfield stood, holding by a rope, and studied the dark-
ness ahead. Beside him I hugged my conviction-iiour
after hour, it seemed : and still the dawn did not come.

He turned at length.

*' I see a coast line ii the south of us. This will be the
Bristol Channel, and the balloon is sinking. Pitch out
some ballast, if these idiots have left any."

I found a couple of sandbags and emptied thom over-
board. The coast, as a matter of fact, was close :it liand.
But the Lunardi rose in time to clear the cliff barrier
by some hundreds of feet. A wild sea ran on it : of its
surf, as of a grey and agonising face, we caught one glimpse
as we hurled high and clear over the roar: and, a minute
later, to our infinite dismay were actually skimming the
surface of a black hillside. -Hold on ! " screamed By-
field, and I had barely time to tighten my grip when-crash !
the car struck the turf and pitched us together in a heap
on the floor. Bump ! the next blow shook us like peas iu
a bladder. I drew my legs up and waited for the third.
26

1*1

386

ST. IVES

None

Woiie came. Tlie cur o-i.,..,f a
back to equilibnun, 7^!^^ rS^:^ ^^nn, s^o.^y

Z^; '"n^r::;^''^' 1-"-....,,

piekea ourselves up, tossed

"gain. TJie chine of tl.o tall h

ruga,

ill.

<'verbourd, and niounroti

I^'^ck and was lost, and ve s on^'f ''""'l'^'."«-'^'«'''k, fell
shadowy. "^ ^''^''i"^ ^o'*^v'ard into formless

^^^^;;Confound it I >' said Byfield, ^^ the land can't be nnin-

■■s. For o,.e good l,„, 1 t !u ""°" '""•abandoned

tuneless I„meni°i„„ ^ sTJ ?' /'"■""S'' "'■''°» '» ">o
'- oollar-bono >™ broken '"'"'"'''' "''° "'^'""^ that

'lay was trembling si, ; !. , r*' " i''""' "' "'^ ™""l'.
-eendod upon us f ntil i onT! 'i':''' " ^l'""" and do-
and these, cnt by ,, m „ l"' " '"""" ^'"■■S^ °' ^''is,

de;dy with streams of edlol. ™"'« "'"' ""«" ='«!■
" Over with the ffrannel • " n.ra 1 1

rt"'--r and pnlledranTfhe Jfu'^esI'^rrV" "T l^'""
towards us. '-''""ieiess earth rushed up

aomo i"oaic!,iabie':s:vr;ot.r.'':'! '"/r"^' •""

with anchored s„.>,p7„^ '"t„|, 'f'''^ ^^'""■•y^ popalons
curve „i the westeramost ..ni , 1 *!'*''' "' »'' '» ^^
-erside..terraee:t,i-lV4^S-:--™-

((

THE INCOMPLETE AiiuONAUTS "

387

in aij arapliitheatro; its cliinmeys lifting tlioir smoke over
jvgni.ist tlie thiwiu The tiers curved uwiiy soiithwiinl to u
round castle and a spit of rock", off whicli a bri<,' under white
canvas stood out for the lino of tlie open sea.

We swept across tiie roadstead towards tlie town, trailing
our grapnel as it were a liooked lisii, a bare liundred fee't
above the water. Faces stared u]) at us from the siiips'
decks. Tlie crew of one lowered a boat to pursue ; wo were
half a mile away before it touched the water. Should wo
clear the town ? At JJylield's orders we stripped otT our
overcoats and stood ready to lighten ship : but seeing that
the deflected wind in the estuary was carrying us towards
the suburbs and the harbour's mouth, he changed his
mind.

"It is devil or deep sea," ho announced. " We will try
the grapnel. Look to it, Ducie, while I take the valve."
lie pressed a clasp-knife into my hand. " Cut, if I give the
word."

We descended a few feet. Wo were skimming the ridge.
The grapnel touclied, and in the time it takes you to wink,
had ploughed through a kitchen garden, uprooting a regi-
ment of currant hushes ; had leaped clear, and was caught
in the eaves of a wooden ou 'louse, fetching us up with a
dislocating shock. I heard a rending noise and picked
myself up in time to see the building colhi])se like a house
of cards and a pair of demented pigs emerge from the ruins
and plunge across the garden beds. And with that I was
pitched off my feet again as the hook caught in an iron
che^mux-de-frise, and held fast.

" Hold tight ! " shouted Byfield, as the car luv^hed and
struggled, careening desperately. "Don't c. man'
What the devil ! "

Our rope had tautened over the coping of a high stone
wall ; and the straining Lunardi—a very large and hand-

I ■

388

some blossom, bend
gravelled

ST. IVES

ing on a very thin stalk-overhung the

yard ; and lo ! from the centre of it stared

13,7 '""'''"'"^t: 'he faces of a squad

red-coats

up at
of British

form brought my knife d

at abhorred
own upon the ropt. In

uni-

for a second wind I struck in : ^^ ^"^

" ^^''' fy^^^'^> yo» open the wrong valve We driff n.

I say 'soused," for I confess that the shock belied the
promise of our easy descent Ti.n r ^-l

it also drove beforeihe w nd A . T^f' ^'''^'^ '' ^"*
„4!^- -^ ,-, "^^"^'^ ''"G wind. And as it dmo-ffed tliP n..v

hoop, th„ „etti„g-„ay, dug their uail^iuto tlfe oiM silk

THE INCOMPLETK Ai-UOXAUTB

389

In its new element the balloon became inspired with a
sudden infernal malice. It sank like a pillow if we tried
to climb it : it rolled us over in the brine ; it allowed us
no moment for a backward glance. I spied a small cutter-
rigged craft tacking towards us, a mile and more to leeward,
and wondered if the captain of the brig had left our rescue
to it. He had not. I heard a shout behind us; a rattle
of oars as the bowmen shipped them ; and a liaiid gripped
my collar. So one by one we Avere plucked— uncommon
specimens ! — from the deep; rescued from what Mr.
Sheepshanks, a minute later, as he sat down on a thwart
and wiped his spectacles, justly termed " a predicament,
sir, as disconcerting as any my experience supplies."

\i )|

CHAPTER XXXIV

CAPTAIN COLENSO"

"o'^sZlZLlr '" '" ""'" '"^ -""oon.sir." the

and not to be lifted At ol ,'„ T "'""'^ """""'S^i
became ,„a„..geHblo ; a,„, Ting ropTu?"''*"*^ "■"'
astern, the crew fell to their oars. " ""S"''""

My teeth were chatterino- 'ri,'„
'laU taken time, and uZ. ^'T^ZT""' "' ^"'""S-^
-me to cover the distance betweent , "7''.^"'"»able

ay hove-to, her maintopsail abaek i ^'l'* "^ '^'

drawing. ^ ''"acK and her head-sails

" *'««'s like towing a whalo ,!,■ " n
me panted. ' ^"' "« oarsman behind

tiiSnVfrof tr-rrrr ™^ *"^ '—

tbe voice English, of a sort utl f! ° T ""'' ^'^"'-"d "« !
recognised for Englisr The f n ' "° P""^™ ">at I
peas, as like as the two droveff ^ ''""' "' '*^ ^ '»■»

"captain colenso"

301

repeated their elders' features and build ; the gaunt frame,
the long, serious face, the swarthy complexion and medi-
tative eye— in sliort, Don Quixote of la Mancha at various
stages of growth. Men and lads, I remarked, wore silver
earrings.

I was speculating on this likeness when we shipped oars
and fell alongside the brig's ladder. At the head of it
my hand was taken, and I was helped on deck with cere-
mony by a tall man in loose blue jacket and duck trousers :
an old man, bent and frail ; by his air of dignity tlie
master of the vessel, and by his features as clearly the
patriarch of the family. He lifted his cap and addressed
us with a fine but (as I now recall it) somewhat tired
courtesy.

' ' An awk ward adveutu re, gentlemen. "
We thanked him in proper form.

" I am pleased to have been of service. The pilot-cutter
yonder could hardly have fetched you in less than twenty
minutes. I have signalled her alongside, and she will con-
vey you back to P'almouth ; none the worse, I hope, for
your wetting."

"A convenience," said I, ''of which my friends will
gladly avail themselves. For my part I do not propose to
return."

He paused, weighing my words ; obviously puzzled, but
politely anxious to understand. His eyes were grey and
honest, even childishly honest, but dulled about the rim
of the iris and a trifle vacant, as though the world with its
train of affairs had passed beyond his active concern. I
keep my own eyes about me when I travel and have sur-
prised just such a look, before now, behind the spectacles
of very old men who sit by the roadside and break stones
for a living.

" I fear, sir, that I do not take you precisely."

392

ST. IVES

11 11

'mltVLf1;a%T "" "«'*/'"' J"^' ™"^- She

"le anu under private commission."
"A privateer ?"
" You may oall it tliat."

"Colenso."

ter'j^T ''^■"•'''' "''"- "Your notes? The salt wa-

stoZr."™'""'" '"' "'"'" » -"'^^ '» -Mity of the

'•' fW ''° \,"' r'" "'" """M^oe of your stomach ' "
..ied hvTsm:;; 'h,""?;'""''^ "" "»"™™" ""-compa.

-ur,;:t' h7so:ti„;;„t't?^^- ^^'-"»^' ^ p--e,
not'so^rMrTfr';"' 'rr^" "■^- '"^'-v wi„

o'v, I'". 1 ..all return to them. Of their grudged

'CAPTAIN COLENSO"

393

His

pension I have eighteen pence in my pocket. Bnt I pro-
pose to travel with Sheepshanks, and raise the wind by
showing his tricks. He shall toss the caber from Land's
End to Forthside, cheered by the plaudits of the interven-
ing taverns and furthered by their bounty."

*' A progress which we must try to expedite, if only out
of regard for Mrs. Sheepshanks." I turned to Captain
Colenso again. " Well, sir, will you accept me for your
passenger ? "

"1 doubt that you are joking, sir."

" And I swear to you that I am not."

He hesitated ; tottered to the companion, and called
down, " Susannah ! Susannah ! a moment on deck, if you
please. One of these gentlemen wishes to ship as passen-
ger."

A dark-browed woman of middle age thrust her head
above the ladder aid eyed me. Even so might a ruminat-
ing cow gaze over her hedge upon some posting wayfarer.

" What's he dressed in ?" she demanded abruptly.

"Madani, it was intended for a ball suit."

" You will do no dancing here, young man."

"My dear lady, I accept tiuit and every condition you
may impose. Whatever the discipline of the ship "

She cut me short.

" Have you told him, father ? "

" Why, no. You see, sir, I ought to tell you that this
is not an ordinary voyage. "

" Nor for that matter is mine."

"You will be exposed to risks,"

" In a privateer that goes without saying."

"The risk of capture."

'^'^ mtundly ; though a bravo captain will not dwell on
it." And I bowed.

" But I do dwell on it," he answered earnestly, a red

394

•^•T. IVES

"sa, ooL,:'/o",:,2 n. 's ";t,r ^"-^'^ -""'=•"

do le?' \l'" r^, Tl !"•?"■''""■ I <^»™ot i„ conscience

".damn your conscience!" tliouirlit T m„ .. i.
ns ng n contcmnf f„„ n ■ , , , ""s"t -1, my stomach

fainA^eanrpXtsr

h™, "we fall in ,vith a Frencliman „,'■ l„f ^"'^

an Amoncan ; that is o,„. object eh'" " "'''''°''~

J,P """' "" ^"''™»''- That is om- object, to be

TuTt^T ' ™™"' "' ^'™ '■* «<""' "«™'">t of ourselves
■I ut, tut, man-an ex-pacl(et captain ' "

I pulled up in sheer wonder at the lunacy of our disnnt.
and the side he was forcing me to take' hTc^^ ' I
harangmng a grey-headed veteran on his own qua er^j^^ck
«d exhortmg him to valour I In a flash I saw myself be
fooled tr,cked into playing the patronising amate^ om

And Captam Colenso, who aimed but to be rid of me was
^ nglnng ,n his sleeve, no doubt. In a minute ev^n

teTo bl ; "T'!? ?'°' "'^ ^'''- ^O"' I <'° "oral ;
men but t f^ "\' " """^ "^ disciplinary for most
men, but it turns me obstinate.

peSctit ^tZT f T-\ T'' ^^^^^"^'^^^^ ^"^ "^"-th to
nia H' J ?^ ^'^"'^^ ^^^ '^''^''^ ^'^"^ ^^ to Susan-
nah and back was eloquent of senile indecision.

1 cannot explain to you, sir. The consequences-I
lie broke off and appealed to me. I would rather jou did
press'"?' ' "^'^'^ ''''''' • ' --^ ^^^ y-^ - 'n^t t
"But I do press it," I answered, stubborn as a mule.

((

CAPTAIN COLENSO

5»

395

*' I tell you that I am ready to accept all risks. But if you
want me to return with my friends in the cutter, you must
summon your crew to pitch me down the ladder. And
there's the end on't."

*' Dear, dear ! Tell me at least, sir, that you are an
Unmarried man."

" Up to now I have that misfortune. I aimed a bow at
Mistress Susannah ; but that lady had turned her broad
shoulders and it missed fire. Wliich reminds me/' I
continued, " to ask for the favour of pen, ink and paper.
I wish to send a letter ashore to the mail."

She invited me to follow her ; and I descended to the
main cabin, a spick-and-span apartment, where we sur-
prised two passably good-looking damsels at their house-
work, the one polishing a mahogany swing-table, the
other a brass door-handle. They picked up their cloths,
dropped me a curtsey apiece, and disappeared at a word
from Susannah, who bade me be seated at the swing-table
and set writing materials before me. The room was lit
by a broad stern window, and lined along two of its sides
with mahogany doors leading, as I supposed, to sleeping
cabins ; the panels — not to speak of the brass handles and
finger-plates — shining so that a man might have seen his
face in them to shave by. ''But why all these women on
board a privateer ? " thought I, as I tried a quill on my
thumb-nail and embarked upon my first love-letter.

I' 'i

*' Dearest :

" This line with my devotion to tell you that the balloon has descended
•afely, and your Anne finds himself on board "

" By the way. Miss Susannah, what is the name of this
ship?"

"She is called the Lady Nepean; and I am a married
woman and the mother of six."

396

ST. IVES

lis ' '

^^:;i felicitate y„„, „,,,„.„ J ,„^^^^ _^__^ ^^^___^^^ ^^^

•■ You believe ? " ""''"^'"■^«"'- ' Relieve."
She iioc'ded <' v«,.„
you'JI go buck;" "^ "^'"' '^ ^°"'JJ take my advice,

escZif r/' f ''"';^'«^-^^^^ «» a sudden impulse - T
escaped French prisoner.- And wifl, fi . u ^ ^"^ «»
n^y cap over the mills (as thev slvf , ' % ^"^^ ^'"''"^
-ttee, and we regarded e ^01 r ""' ^' "^ *''«
contmned, still with my eves on ). . "^ ^'"^^^^ '" J
money, but minus my heit J \ ''"'^ " ''^^' of
daughter of Britain who has 't inl '"T '^'' '^ '^' ^^'^
what have you to say ?'> '^ ^^'' ^^^i^^"^- And now

. "Ah, well! "she mused "tb« t ^.

«Pea^ in enigmas. ^Ic^,;*-;:^^:^^^

America, .,;„:^VCe:: n^:r::r^"\^" *^^ ^^i-d St^es Of
Though you have news, dear osf f "''' '° ^*''^'' "">« *« France
-hile. Yet and though ;ou hi e no °""*' '""" ^'^-'' '"e for a

Anne,' write it and con.',° ,'"; ^ TW" ^"'^^ ^"«" ' ' '«- /ou^
Mr Romaine, who in turn may find an. "' "'' ""' ^""^^^^ ^t to
to Paris, Rue du Fouarre le' UsloZX''' ''' '' «-«^^Ied through
Juplle, to be called for by the corpor "l , ""''''''''^ '' *^« Widow
She Will remember ; and in truthama: '''^'.^'f^' ^-r ' vin blanc.'
>t deserves remembrance as 7ngrr\m" 1"" ^^"^^^^ *° P^-«e
Should a youth of the name of RowL ^^ *'' '"^^^^ «^ ^'•anee.
•you may trust his fidelity abso uter m ""■"'"* '"™«elf before you,
-ce the boat waits to take th I '^,'; C"" ^'^ ''''' ^* ^"- And sj
«cnbe myself-untii I come to oLZ TT "^ ^^'"^^' «°<3 «ub.
i»er^mo«m ""^^"^ ^^^» a«d afterwards to eternity-

AjTNfl. "

((

CAPTAIN COLENSO

897

r had, m fact, a second reason for abbreviating this letter
and seahng it in a liurry. The movements of the bri^
thougli shght, wore perceptible, and in the close air of tl^
main cabin my head already began to swim. I hastened
on deck in time to shake hands witli my companions and
confide the letter to Byfield with instructions for postin-
It. - And if your share in our adventures should come
into pubhc question," said I, -you must apply to a
Major Chevenix, now quartered in Edinburgh Castle, who
has a fair inkling of the fucts, and as a man of honour
vvil not decline to assist you. You have Dalmahoy, too
to back your assertion that you knew me only as Mr
Ducie Upon Dalmahoy I pressed a note for his and
Mr. bheepshanks' travelling exj)enses. ''My dear fel
low," he protested, "I couldn't dream~ii yon are sure
It won t mconvenieuce . . . merely as a loan . .
and deuced handsome of you, I will say." He kept the
cutter waiting while he drew up an I. 0. U. in which I
figured as Bursar and Almoner {hoHoris causa) to the
feenatus Academicus of Cramond-on-Almond. Mr Sheep-
shanks meanwhile shook hand with me impressively. " It
has been a memorable experience, sir. I shall have much
to tell my wife on my return."

It occurred to me as probable that the lady would
have even more to say to him. lie stepped into the cut-
ter and, as they pushed off, was hilariously bonneted by
Mr. Dalmahoy, by way of parting salute. -Starboard
after braces !" Captain Colenso called to his crew. The
yards were trimmed and the Lady Xepean slowly gath-
ered way, while I stood by the bulwarks gazing after my
friends and attempting to persuade myself that the fresh
air was doing me good.

Captt 1 Colenso perceived my uneasiness and advised
me to seek my berth and lie down ; and on my replying

398

ST. IVES

»■"' in that seclt,si„Vi ™; 'it ,^ ,""" "" '"""'<''"'".;

Nor at the end oM rT ■ "'"' " '''*"»"' '™e-
covered appeti T, ZS'll TT " """""^ -

tickled my palate ivifl MI ^ ""' *'P ""raed me,

-pectf,,, sXZ; '^^ - '»;;cW their caps with
kind, but taciturn to a d tree bevf iT r ^''t''^"'''^
mystery hung and deepened abo.TM ''^ ^ '°« »'
f ;-»«, and I crept abo the , k ^" !"?■ "" ^""^
ilream, entangling mvself ,„ ; ■ ? continuous evil

gin with, there were ivi f '"i"'^'''"^ "'dories. Tobe-

to be rc^ucii ,r: ,rf ::,:t" "■; ''"'" •■ " ■""""<■■ ^^

or .on.. Wives or grandX^^L'^r 'TSi; c' ,*"'^'''""
tlie men-twenty-throe in ,11 « ? Colenso. Of
Colonso were caL p'n "„ ' 1' t ?V'f' ""' "'■'""l
landsmen by their bilio^f.i^ '. ™' "' """" convicted

raents ; men fre , f™ ' tl!"" ""'r''™" ""h^dy move-

-■"> no ruddy im Xf" .d^.'^t 'th^ "'"' ^J"'' ^^'
Twice every dav nnJ fi *"® ^P^" air.

binary compl/'^td^^radtrt^t "'""''""■

religions service which it would C,^^ ? P°°P '<"• "

'■c. It began decorously Z^JImT '° °"" ''™-

tonof some portion of hXwhk ^""™"°« ""P'^i"

But by-and-bve fand TL n .^^ "^""''"n Colenso.

listeners kindkd " .-» i^ "', *" """"e office) his

Are of " Amens " Thrn'^ ."". l'™ ''''"' " =''i™i3hing

.they broke into crielo ;,r. '^ ''«™' '<""' «'"-y!

agcment ; they ll^l^j tr" t'^i^ftrt 7 T' '""'■'^
pounder swivel) • and fh«n o i ^f "^ ^^ ^^"g nine-

- .oni-s e.eii;n-r:::„r ™reL^-r.si:

"captain colenso"

399

others sobbed, exhorted, even leaped in the air. " S tronger,
brother!!! 'Tis working, 'Lis working!!! 0 deliv-
erance ! ! ! 0 streams of redemption ! " For ten minutes
vor a quarter of an hour maybe, tlie ship was a Babel, u
Hodhim. And tiien the tumult would die down as sud-
denly as it luid arisen, and, dismissed bv the old man, the
crew, witii faces once more inscrutable , it twitching with
spent emotion, scattered to their usual tasks.

Five minutes after these singular outbreaks it was diffi-
cult to believe in them. Captain Colenso paced the quar-
ter-deck once more with his customary shuffle, his hands
beneath his coat-tails, his eyes conning the ship with their
usual air of mild abstraction. Now and again he paused
to instruct one of his incapables in the trimming of a brace,
or to correct the tie of a knot. He never scolded ; seldom
lifted his voice. By his manner of speech and the ease of
Ins authority he and his family might have belonged to
separate ranks of life. Yet I seemed to detect method in
their obedience. The veriest fumbler went about his work
with a concentrated gravity of bearing as if he fulfilled
a remoter purpose, and understood it while he tied his
knots into "grannies" and generally mismanaged the job
in hand.

Towards the middle of our second week, we fell in with
a storm— a rotatory affair, and soon over by reason that we
struck the outer fringe of it— but to a landsman sufficiently
daunting while it lasted. Late in the afternoon I thrust
my head up for a look around. We were weltering along
in horrible forty-foot seas, over which our bulwarks tilted
at times until from the companion hatchway, I stared
plumb into the grey sliding chasms, and felt like a fly
on the wall. The Lady Nepean hurled her old timbers
along under close-reefed maintopsail and a raff of a fore-
sail only. The captain had housed top-gallant masts and

400

ST. IVB8

wore desolate b„ f^ ' m 'T """''-"^'^''"A docks. Ii.e^,
poop: the mJJZ"ITZ T ''°'"""""- "■«
tlio H,,okcs jiluckilv, but Wit, ™°"°-''"'l'"l "lid gn|,,,i„„
"""•«!. In. e,o,, »■• 0 ,■! , ' ",'';f' r "''''^'' '"'"'''"'
'■'" "" 'I'e i„fcn,al sc-l 1 ^'^ """""' '"" '"""I
-d "il^kinH, to,ve , Zw fcl'l ''™'' '""' '" ««"-'"'»'»

->" »"■• l.o,„n, I took ocJl-onT," r ""'''^™'° '"«™
^';;'y A>.««'. bcbavioTr <=<""Pl">.ent him „,. tbo

" Ay," said be, abstractedly- "ihonM •.
good weatbor of it ! " ^ ' "'" fi"' """'e pretty

dZrT'' "' ""^ "^^ - -'-' 3-o„ would call real

sh.r that carries n,y honour" " rl' """ ""' '■■"'^ «'« '

over this, be cba„ied b,° t™. " f o'u?,,"" '""^'» P"-'^

arra,^l'' I""""'' ^■"••^'y demands it s n " ■■ "'n'T''"
ariant landsman could hire r„„ •, V , ' '• Only an

-aft with any idea of'pH • e ™ "".''t^^/ " '-''0™/o,d
"leory, and I clung to it ' """ ^'" ""^ <>nh

;;We shall not need to test her."

care -:"ish;r„7t"hr"Tbf " •'" ' ""' °^-™« 'be
l*ethedoor-platefinbe»Ze:Sr' "^'' ""' »'™-

'captain colenso

»>

401

Why as to that," lie answered evasively, "I've had to
e now. The last voyage I couinuuulod her—it was

bef

just after the war broke out with America— wo fell in with
a schooner olf the Banks ; we were outward bound for llaU
ifux. She carried twelve nine-pounder earronades and
two long nines, besides a big fellow on a traverse ; and wo
had tlie guns you see— eigiit nine-i)ounder8 and one chaser
oi the same calibre— 2)ost-otlice guns, we call them. But
we beat her olf after two hours of it."

"And saved the mails ?"

He rose abrui)tly (we had seated ourselves on a couple of
hen-coops under the break of the poop). '* You will ex-
cuse me. 1 have an order to give" ; and he hurried up
the steps to the quarter-deck.

It must have been ten days after this that he stopped
me in one of my eternal listless promenades and invited
mo to sit beside him again.

" I wish to take your opinion, Mr. Ducie. You have
not, I believe, found salvation ? You are not one of us
as I may say ? " '

'* Meaning by ' us ' ? "

" I and mine, sir, are unworthy followers of the Word
as preached by John Wesley."

" Why no, that is not my religion."

" But you are a gentleman ?" I bowed. '' And on a
point of honour-do you think, sir, that as a servant of the
King one should obey his earthly master even to doing
what conscience forbids ? "

" That might depend "

" But on a point of honour, sir ? Suppose that you had
pledged your private word, in a just, nay, a generous bar-
gain, and were commanded to break it. Is there anythin^y
could override that ? " ^ o

I thought of my poor old French colonel and his broken

402

ST. IVES

ill,

AfeL-.^H

'I am not a ffentlem-.n «;,. r i •] "v '"s pocket.
gfitloman would look at t» V""'""''",'"""' '"" »

eldest son, a„J acting mate tft h i ' t '", ^°'"'^°' '"^
door with news of a ^luT fl '"''""" '"^'' '" "' "«

two'^iies dis't,!: llTt Sir",'" r^™"' - A'
->^ that she i,oistedBrit-sheVo;" ""' *" "'"'"^-I

Colons':' „"' s:;:,;;::^,' "■ ^-S'^n^/'Captain
cheeks, nsnally 0 t wld [ °T ''' S'^^^' ^is
age, we..e i„,sLd ^^^ !'Z'ZL:;:^Z/TT '° ?"
suppressed excitement i„ all hi crew V ""^ "

=tTh:r:t^-rd s^^^^^^^^^^
•-, ..deed „, j-trr - ix::L"r:;

"captain colenso"

403

cir-

took no single step to clear the Lachj Kepean for ac-
tion or put his men in figliting trim. The most of them
were gathered about the fore-hatch to the total neglect of
their guns, vvliich they had been cleaning assiduously all
tiie morning. On we stood without shifting our course by
a point, and were within range when the schooner ran u^)
the Stars-and-Stripes and plumped a round shot ahead of
us by way of hint.

I stared at Captain Colenso. Could he mean to surren-
der without one blow ? He had exchanged his glass f(,r
a speaking-trumpet, and waited, fumbling with it, his fate
twitching painfully. A cold dishonouring suspicion gripj)cd
me. The man was here to betray his Hag. I glanced
aloft; the British ensign flew at the peak. And as 1
turned my head I felt rather than saw the flash, heard tlie
shattering din as the puzzled American luffed up and let
fly across our bows with a raking broadside. Doubtless
she, too, took note of our defiant ensign and leaped at the
nearest guess, that we meant to run her aboard.

Now, whether my glance awoke Captain Colenso, or
this was left to the all but simultaneous voice of the guns,
1 know not. But as their smoke rolled between us I saw
him drop his trumpet and run with a crazed face to the
taffrail, where the hallyards led. The traitor had forgot-
ten to haul down his flag !

It was too late. While he fumbled with the hallyards,
a storm of musketry burst and swept the quarter-deck.
He flung up both hands, spun round upon his heel, and
pitched backwards at the helmsman's feet, and the loosened
ensign dropped slowly and fell across him, as if to cover
his shame.

Instantly the firing ceased. I stood there between com-
passion and disgust, willing yet loathing to touch the
pitiful corpse, when a woman — Susannah — ran screaming

404

ST. IVES

omwied along ti.e plank h to 0/!^' "' "'" ''"S- It
here to an o.ld)y-sl, ,j,oj mJ r 1, l",*""' ""J B''"^'
thought it re,na,-kabJy liL L "''=''/<' "■ I» «hai,c. I
became aware that .omo on L""'' °' ''''■■''■■"l- And X
looted up to find a leanTnd •!„ ''"""""S '» "«'. ""d
«hoard and .tandingt'tX tl^dtr^""' ^"^™''" -"-
Are you anywise Jiard of he-mncr .,

I ™o ,„„ «.at this iiok.tr4h rs" • ^' "-'

„ The rV't' "" ""' '"^P-'i-g il ilr'"

1 thought a:L,crD'eid: LvV'w ,','"; •:?'" y™"-?

dead, though I'd have entvcd t'.,. ,' ^""^ ''^'*'"- *%

"^^^^y> brought the rr,r7., at
™d Co,nmodor? Eodl-f^o ft,^^""' "»'° "'^^^ ™te,-s,
»d. by all accounts. Helt "T"^ """' «'""-' w'

*t post „,ig„ ,„„ jtid i'g tri^^rr ^■"'

Uarn »«, but yoa have fem.,l„. all-flred packet ?

■ndeed there were three pofo-e":.'?'',"" 'r' '" P"''
ci-oonmgover the dead captain T '"''"« """' ™d

-they had no arn.s to ZTLJ" T"'"'' -"■'eudercd
the waist, „„der g„ard 1 ""T"'"' ^''o oollected in
lay senseless on deck ad too, I °' ^''"■'^«"^- "'-
splinter wounds; for , '° "™f "''"■'' "'''^«''"« f'"".
lower by a foot » two t ...fT'''' ''" '""^"''-^^ '-in..
^^^--^ had done tolei "t o,! T'V'f^ °' "- ^-'4
wounds in our hull might bT °"''' "'""«'"- the

the *r«:;':',;:Z"!'r^- ^'f-us Q. Socco.be, of
"Well, then, CapuinSeecon,be, I am a passenger on

aw a trickle
le flag. It
I, and grew
In sliupe I
d. And I
0 me, and
ricau come

Or must

1 yonder?

3tter stay

minutes"

5 waters,
liole U\.
e. And
packet ?
J" For
'o\v and
endered
'cted iu
5- One
g from
being

'er the

ibe, of
rer on

** CAPTAIN COLENSO" 495

board this ship and know neither her business here nor
why slie has behaved in a fashion that makes me bh.sh

^.^:J^'^' '' '''' ''''' ' ^-- --^ — to

- 0, come now ! You're trying it on. It's a yard-arm

matter and I don't blame you, to be sure. Cap'n sank the

" There were none to sink, I believe."
He conned me curiously.
" You don't look like a Britisher, either."
"I trust not. I am the Viscount Anne de Keroiial de
bt. Ives, escaped from a British war-prison."

, " ^"?'' !f' l^"" '^ ^^^" 1»'°^« it. We'll get to the bot-
tom of this. He faced about and called, - Who's the first
officer of this brig ? "

Reuben Colenso was allowed to step forward. Blood
from a scalp-wound had run and caked on his right cheek,
but he st<3pped squarely enough.

^^ -Bring him below," Captain Seccombe commanded.
And you, Mr. What's-your-name, lead the way. It's one
or the other of us will get the hang of this affair."

He seated himself at the head of the table in the main
cabin^ and spat ceremoniously on the floor.

"Now, sir, you are, or were, first officer of this brig ? "
The prisoner, standing between his two guards, gripped
his stocking-cap nervously. - Will you please to tell me.
sir, if my father is killed ? "

''Seth, my lad, I want room." One of the guards, a
strappmg youngster, stepped and flung open a pane of the
stem window. Captain Seccombe spat out of it with non-
chalant dexterity before answering :
" I guess he is. Brig's name ? "
" The Lady Nepean,"
" Mail packet ? "

406

ST. IVES

h'V

" ^'6s, sir— leastways -

maj save yo„ some sunerfl o ,. "'"/"■'I-'™, aud it
■n A„g„st i,.,t ^^ t e z",^ v^'"*'' " ' ''" 3-ou tl.at
Colenso, „,u,vard bound fo.tw'"""' '"'"'""' '^''r"""
pnvatee,-, otf tl,e Great ]! .If v\""" "'" •'«'^'«»<^^',
her off ,.fter t.o UoZ t^l ""t;*""'""'".!, and bea
her?" "Sl't'-'g- iou were ou board of

_" I ;-'Kled the stern gnn."

Vfciy good ' l^ha i. J

f 0 fell in with Com„,o7or tZi ''"'"^ f" °" "'" Ba.>ks,
"■'gate P„,,v„,,, and surrent^r'f' f- "'" ^""«' «'"'»
;; We sank the mails." '" '"" "«''t away."

hei'rtld Veit S"yo,f :i:,;'';;,':r 'f ^''''"'' "-' "-

horn son of freedom." Can ■ , v ^'"■h«™ice of „ true-
omtorical roll. .< h, ^^'P™ ' '"==«ombo's voice took an
3'our fr,ay. He fed yo^, ! -"'f ' >'"' "■"■■<= bleeding from
-' -ffor ,V0„ t Td el'^nf^^""''^ he'woZ
'Vhat did be promise .'-!b™ t s , '"'■•'' "■"'"• ^'-J-
<«'>' and pas.,engers back tl P , /°'"' *'"""• "■"• h^
on their swcari.g „ncn the ,• "^^;"' " ""'"■ »>"' «!"!'
-'a™ to Boston'h S,r XTf "T" """ ="» «"°"W
oan prisoners from Enghnd V ^"f ""'"'"^'- »' A»'eri.
"Ponthe01dandNewSmenH°"'' '""r ^»™^ '» "'at
ana «,e Z,,, ,,,^^„,, sated :m;r'"^^T' ™"^'°"'"^'^
" '".'"'^ fr™' the wolf's iaws witf "" ""'W '*«

«er .nside of her. And CIaZ '"'«'" American offi.

nient receive this noble '„ ff ^°"'' ''''^-•''""ned govern-
-nld have brongh 'a w:r''to"tr ' , 'V ™^' «''' '""

CAPTAIN COLENSO"

407

nso, junior,
'"■ni, and it
'11 you that
et, Cuptuin
Hitchcock,
1. and beat
11 board of

>lie Banks,
ited States
away."

that lion-
3f a true-
e took an
"^^^g from
be would
e. Kay,

and his
kvn sliip,
le should
-' Ameri.

to that
1 jointly;
I'ld like
can offi-
govern-
ir, that
iv-dowu
)r of a
§h seas
fiyrmi-

dons went back on tlieir captain's oatli, and kept the brig ;
and the American officer came home empty-hantlod. You r
father was told to resume his duties, immortal souls beiiK'
cheap in a country whei-e they press seamen's bodies. And
now, Mister First Officer Colenso, perhaps you'll explain
how he had the impudence to come within two hundred
miles of a coast where his name smelt worse than vermin."

" He was coming back, sir."

" Hey ? "

" Back to Boston, sir. You see, Cap'n, father wasn't a
rich man, but he had saved a trifle. He didn't go back to
the service though told that he might. It preyed on his
mmd. We was all very fond of father, being all one fam-
ily, as you might say, though some of us had wives and
families, and some were over to Redruth to the mines "
"Stick to the point."

"But this is the point, Cap'n. He was coming back,
you see. The Lady Nepean wasn't fit for much after
the handling she'd had. She was going for twelve hundred
pounds. The Post Office didn't look for more. We got
her for eleven hundred with the guns, and the repairs may
have cost a hundred and fifty ; but you'll find the account
books in the cupboard there. Father had a matter of five
hundred laid by and a little over."

Captain Seccombe removed his legs from tho cabin-table,
tilted his chair forward, and half rose in his seat
"You houglit her?"

"That's what I'm telling you, sir; though father'd
have put it much clearer. You see, he laid it before the
Lord ; and then he laid it before all of us. It preyed on
his mind. My sister Susannah stood up and she said, * I
reckon I'm i;he most respectably married of all of you,
having a farm of my own ; but we can sell up, and all the
world's a home to them that fears the Lord. We can't

408

ST. IVES

stock np with American prisoners, bnt we can <r„ „■ i
-tead ; and, Judging b/the prisiner^ IwTJLZtZ

eo^rj^:ns-:^:--^^.insec.

A length the American fonnd breath enough to whistle

™onVro^;i f iL!C;rrtf /'-^^^^^^^^

Jo,. Bainbridge. Take a seat, Mr' CoW-'"' """-""-
f„J ™' ^r^ *° '^'''" ™'' *'» P'-'^™--, simply «if be

-rs-Lrr„-s;irr--'orat

~;:i'^:i;;XirL-res^^--^^^^^^^^^
^eh:ysrie,/i7abrt:icr *:• «^^

man's story is genu-wine!" ^ °'""'°'' """ "«

He repeated the word, five minuter Iitpr . ,

on the quarter-deck beside theZy -'Tl^J" "'""^

sir, unless I am mistaken." genu-wme man,

Well, the question is one for casuists In „ »
have learnt this, that men are /reatr ihan,^ "'"' ^
wiser sometimes, honester al ^^7 p g»™™raents;

eountrv's side a limit „f £J °" •, ""^ 1 ?f '"'

-OOP. Am„nsop,„ced,perh:prm':;te^Xht

CAPTAIN COLENSO"

409

0 ourselves
3n brought
What he
3 said, sir.
t the Lady
going out
^ip outside

)tain See-

0 whistle,
lough it's

Cornmo-

, "if be-

1 look at

ladies to
h to pay
ensively,
that the

(^e stood
ne man,

ravels I
iments ;
t'er me
aptain !
science,
3 erred,
on his
lid not
fay his

country to her honour. In this hope at least the flag which
he had hauled down covered his body still as we commit-
ted it to the sea, its service or disservice done.

Two days later we anchored in the great harbour at
Boston, where Captain Seccombe went with his story and
his prisoners to Commodore Bainbridge. who kept them,
pending news of Commodore Rodgers. They were sent, a
few weeks later, to Newport, Rhode Island, to be interro-
gated by that commander ; and, to tlie honour of the Re-
public, were released on a liberal ;>r«-o/e; but whether
when the war ended they returned to England or took
oath as American citizens, I liave not learnt. I was
luckier. The Commodore allowed Captain Seccombe to
detain me while the French consul made inquiry into my
story; and during the two months which the consul
thought fit to take over it, I was a guest in the captain's
house. And here, I made my bow to Miss Amelia Sec-
combe, an accomplished young lady, " who," said her dot-
ing father, "has acquired a considerable proficiency in
French and will be glad to swop ideas with you in that
language." Miss Seccombe and I did not hold our com-
munications in French ; and, observing his disposition to
substitute the warmer language of the glances, i took the
bull by the horns, told her my secret and rhapsodised on
Flora. Consequently no Nausicaa figures in this Odyssey of
mine. Nay, the excellent girl flung herself into my cause,
and bombarded her father and the consular office, with
such effect that on February 2, 1814, I waved farewell to
her from the deck of the barque Shawmui, bound from
Boston to Bordeaux.

CHAPTER XXXV

IN PARIS—ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD

On the lOth of Marcli at sunset the Shatvmut passed
the Pointe de Grave fort and entered the moutli of tlie
Gironde, and at eleven o'clock next morning dropped
anchor a little below Blaye, under the guns of the Regulus,
74. We were just in time, a British fleet being daily ex-
pected there to co-operate with the Due d'Angouleme and
Count Lynch, who was then preparing to pull the tricolor
from his shoulder and betray Bordeaux to Btresford, or, if
you prefer it, to the Bourbon. News of his purpose had
already travelled down to Blaye, and therefore no sooner
were my feet once more on the soil of my beloved France,
than I turned them towards Libourne, or rather, Fronsac,
and the morning after my arrival there, started for the
capital.

But so desperately were the joints of travel dislocated,
(the war having deplenished the country alike of cattle and
able-bodied drivers) and so frequent were the breakdowns
by the way, that I might as expeditiously have trudged
It. It cost me fifteen good days to reach Orleans, and at
Etampes (which I reached on the morning of the 30th),
the driver of the tottering diligence flatly declined to pro-
ceed. The Cossacks and Prussians were at the gates of
Paris. "Last night we could see the fires of their
bivouacs. If Alonsieur listens he can hear the firing."
,The Empress had fled from the Tuileries. Whither ? The

410

IN PARIS— ALAIN PLATS HIS LAST CARD 411

driver, the aubcrgiste, the disinterested crowd, shrugged
their shoulders. "To Rfimbouiller, probably." God knew
what was liappening or what would happen. The Em-
peror was at Troyes, or at Sens, or else as near as Fontaine-
bleau, nobody knew for certain which, lint the fugitives
from Paris had been pouring in for days, and not a cart or
four-footed beast was to be hired for love or money, though
I hunted Etampes for hours.

At length, and at nightfall, I ran against a bow-kneed
grey mare and a cabriolet de place, which by its label be-
longed to Paris ; the pair wandering the street under what
It would be flattery to call the guidance of an eminently
drunken driver. I boarded him ; he dissolved at once into
maudlin tears and prolixity. It appeared that on the 29th
he had brought over a bourgeois family from the capital and
had spent the last three days in perambulating Etampes,
and the past three nights in crapulous slumber within his
vehicle. Here was my chance, and I demanded to know if
for a price he would drive me back with him to Paris. He
declared, still weeping, that he was fit for any thing. 'Tor
ipy part, I am ready to die, and Monsieur knows that we
shall never reach."

"Still anything is better than Etampes."
For some inscrutable reason this struck him as exces-
sively comic. He assured me that I was a brave fellow,
and bade me jump up at once. Within five minutes we were
jolting towards Paris. Our progress was all but inappre-
ciable, for the grey mare had come to the end of her
powers, and her master's monologue kept pace with hers
His anecdotes were all of the past three days. The iron of
Etampes apparently had entered his soul and efifaced all
memory of his antecedent career. Of the war, of any
recent public events, he could tell me nothing.
I had half expected-supposing the Emperor to be near

413

ST. IVES

Fontainebleau—to happen on his vedettes, but we had the
road to ourselves, and reached Longjumean a little before
daybreak without having encountered a living creature
Here we knocked up the propnetor of a cabaret, who
assured us, between yawns, that we were going to our doom •
and after baiting the grey and dosing ourselves with execra'
ble brandy, pushed forward again. As the sky grew pale
about us, I had my ears alert for the sound of artillery
But Pans kept silence. We passed Sceaux, and arrivod
at length at Montrouge and the barrier. It was open-
abandoned— not a sentry, not a douanicr visible.

"Where will Monsieur be pleased to descend?'^ my
driver enquired, and added with an effort of memory, that
he had a wife and two adorable children on a top floor in
the Rue du Mont Parnasse, and stabled his mare handy
by. I paid, and watched him from the deserted pavement
as he drove away. A small child came running from a
doorway behind me, and blundered against my legs I
caiight him by the collar and demanded what had happened
to Paris. - That I do not know,- said the child, "but
mamma is dressing herself to take me to the Review
Tenez," he pointed, and at the head of the long street I
saw advancing the front rank of a blue-coated regiment of
Prussians, marching across Paris to take up position on
the Orleans road.

The murder vas out. I had entered Paris from the
south just m time, if I wished, to witness the entry of His
Majesty the Emperor Alexandre from the north. Soon I
found myself one of a crowd converging towards the
bridges, to scatter northward along the line of His Maj-
esty's progress, from the Barri^re de Pontin to the Champs
Elys^es, where the grand review was to be held. I chose
this for my objective, and making my way along the
Quays, found myself shortly before ten o'clock in the

IN PARIS— ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CAUD 413

Place de la Concorde, where a singular little scene brought
nie to a halt.

About a score of young men— aristocrats by their dress
and carriage— were gathered about the centre of the
square. Each wore a white scarf and the Bourbon cockade
in his hat ; and their leader, a weedy youth with hay-
coloured hair, had drawn a paper from his pocket, and
was declaiming its contents at the top of a voice by several
si.es too big for him : —

" For Paris is reserved the privilege, under circumstances
now existing, to accelerate the dawn of Universal Peace.
Her suffrage is awaited with the interest whicli so im-
mense a result naturally inspires."

Et cetira. Later on, I possessed myself of a copy of
the Prince of Schwarzenberg's proclamation, and identi-
fied the wooden rhetoric at once.

" Parisians ! you have the example of Bordeaux before
you*' ... Ay, by the Lord, they had— right under
their eyes ! The hay-coloured youth wound up his read-
ing with a " Vive le roi! " and his band of walking-gentle-
men took up the shout. The crowd looked on impassive ;
one or two edged away ; and a grey-haired, soldierly horse-
man (whom I recognised for the Due de Choiseul Praslin)
passing in full tenure of Colonel of the National Guard,
reined up, and addressed the young men in a few words
of grave rebuke. Two or three answered by snapping
their fingers, and repeating their '' Vive le roi" with a
kind of embarrassed defiance. But their performance, be-
fore so chilling an audience, was falling sadly flat when a
dozen or more of young royalist bloods came riding up to
reanimate it— among them M. Louis de Chateaubriand,
M. Talleyrand's brother, Archambaut de Perigord, the
scoundrelly Marquis de Maubreuil— yes, and my cousin,
the Vicomte de Keroual de Saint Ives.

414

ST. IVES

Iho ,,.. ..ccn,.y, U,o c.vn.cal ,n,d „„ke,I impudence of it
toolt mc 1,I<CH hMlIet, There. i„ ,. gr„„p of ,tra,Jr
.ny cheek ..oddeued under it, ,uul for t1,e n,„u,o„t lu.d 1
■mnd o run. I Lad dene better to run. Uy a ul.an o i
eye "nssed ,„,ne as l,e swaggered ,,a.t ataeanter, oVm
the world like a /euore roiu.lo on hor.sehaek, with the
rouge on h,» (ace, and hi. air ot expansive Oly„ p !^
daekg„ard,sjn. He carried a 'ace white han,lKer. ine( ™
the end ot h.s riding-,,witch, and this w.;. bad enoug

r,IW 'M"'"?.'" '"' ""y 'l"»-»"gl"'i>.-d, I saw that he lt>d
ollowed l,e declasse Maubreuil's example and decorated
th brutes tad with a Cross or the Legion of Honour
II at brought my teeth together, and I stood my ground.
V,m lero,!" " n,c„l Ic: Ilo,u-io,.s ! " "A ha.le

wttebT ^.'""■7" '""' "'■""«'" " "-kct tu lo
witbm sards and cockades, and the gallant horseman be-

frowd A*^ ?';""' ''?" "'™' "'""■ "'« ""'-esponsive
ciowd Ala,u held one of the badges at arm's length as he

His arm with the riding-switch and laced Imndkorchiet
went up as though he had been stung. Bef ,re it could

aiounl l,m understanding nothing, but none the loss

a estiou 1 , ,™ ""' ""'• ■ " ^ ''<""•<! Maubreuil's

TpZ I" 1>™^^'' '"to ""> ■•escue, and Alain's reply,

that.'' ' -^ ' '"■''°'' *" "=''»»<' "'« time for

I took this for a splutter of hatred, and even found it
laughable as I made n,y escape good. At the same til
" ''"■- aieuutof numour for gaping at

IN PARIS-ALAIN PLAYS IIIS LAST CARD 415

the review, unci I tunie.l buck u.ul rocrosscl t\o river to
seek the Rue du Foiiurre uiul the Widow Junillo

Now the Rue dn Foutrre, though once u very fumous

hcroughfure, is to-duy perhups us squulid as uny that
drains its refuse by u single gutter into the Seine, and the
widow hud been no beauty even in the days when she fol-
h-ved ..0 lOfJth of the line us vivundiere and before she
weddod .Sergeant Jupille of thut regiment. Hut she und I
had struek upu friendship over a flesh wound whieh I re-

fo.wuidl taught myself to soften the edge of her white
wine by the remembered virtues of her ointment, so that
when Sergeant Jupille wus cut of! by u grape-shot in front
of Salumuncu, und his Philomene retired to take churge of
h.s mohers w.ne-shop in the Rue du Fouurre, she hud
cniolled iny nume high on Liu list of her prospective pa-
trons. I felt myself, . ,o speak, u purt in the goodwill of
her house und Il.aven knows tliought I, as I threaded
tlie insalubrious street, it is something for a soldier of the
i^..np,re to count even on this much in Paris to-chiy. U.i
aliqmd, quocunque loco, quocunqmmcello.

Madame Jupille knew me at once, and we fell (figura-
tively-speaking) upon each other's neck. Her shop was
empty, the whole quarter hud trooped off to th. review.
After mingling our tears (again figuradvelv) over the
fickleness of the capital, I enquired if she hud any letters

" Why, no, comrade.'*

*^'None ?" I exclaimed with a very blank face.
1. ,7^^"^" 5 Madame Jupille eyed me archly, and re-
Jented, the reason being that Mademoiselle is too dis-

CrGGtt

" Ah \" I heaved a big sigh of rcliof.
woman, tell me what you mean by that ?

'ou provoking

416

§':mv 'J

ST. IVES

o.^^ y ' ""T' \ ""^^ ^^"^^ ^'^"^ *'^ ^^y« ^go "^»^fc a stranger
called in and asked if I had any news of the Corporal who

praised my white wine. 'Have I any news/ said I 'of
a needle in a bundle of hay. They all praise it.-> (0,
Madame Jupille.) -The Corporal I'm speaking of/ said
he, 'IS or was called Champdivers.' ' Was.' 1 cried
You are not going to tell me that he's dead?' and I de-
clare to you, comrade, the tears came into my eyes ' No
he IS not,' said the stranger, and the best proof is ihat he
will be here enquiring for letters before long. You are to
tell him that if he expects one from '-see, I took the name
down on a scrap of paper, and stuck it in the wine-glass
here-; from Miss Flora Gilchrist, he will do well toLit
m Paris until a friend finds means to deliver it by hand.
And If he asks more about me, say that I come from '--
tenezH wrote the second name underneath-yes, that is
It — Mr. Komaine. "

"Confound his caution," said I. " What sort of man
was this messenger ? "

''0, a staid-looking man, dark and civil spoken. You
might call him an upper servant, or perhaps a notary's
clerk ; very plainly dressed, in black."

" He spoke French ? "

" Parfaitement. What else ? "

"And he has not called again ? "

" To be sure, yes, and the day before yesterday, and
seemed quite disappointed. ' Is there anything Monsieur
would like to add to his message ?' I asked. ' No ' said
he, 'or stay, tell him that all goes well in the North, but
iie must not leave Paris until I see him.' "
^ You may guess how I cursed Mr. Romaine for this beat-
ing about the bush. If all went well in the North, what
possible excuse of caution could the man have for holding
^agk Floras letter ? And how, in any case, could it com-

IN PARIS— ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 417

promise me here in Paris. I had half a mind to take the
bit in my teeth and post off at once for Calais. Still, there
was the plain injunction, and the lawyer doubtless had a
reason for it hidden somewhere behind his tiresome cir-
cumambulatory approaches. And his messenger might
be back at any hour.

Therefore, though it went against the grain, I thought
it prudent to take lodgings with Madame Jupille and
possess my soul in patience. You will say that it should
not have been difficult to kill time in Paris between the
31st of March and the 5th of April, 1814. The entry of
the Allies, Marmont's great betrayal, the Emperor's abdi-
cation, the Cossacks in the streets, the newspaper offices at
work like hives under their new editors, and buzzing con-
tradictory news from morning to night ; a new rumour at
every cafe, a scuffle, or the makings of one, at every street
corner, and hour by hour a steady stream of manifestoes,
placards, handbills, caricatures, and broad sheets of oppro-
brious verse— the din of it all went by me like the vain
noises of a dream as I trod the pavements, intent upon my
own hopes and perplexities. I cannot think that this was
mere selfishness ; rather, a deep disgust was Aveaning me
from my country. If this Paris, indeed, were the reality,
then was -I the phantasm, the revenant : then was France
—the France for which I had fought and my parents gone
to the scaffold— a land that had never been, and our patriot-
ism the shadow of a shade. Judge me not too hardly if
in the restless, aimless perambulations of those five days 1 '
crossed the bridge between the country that held neither
kin nor friends for me, but only my ineffectual past, and
the country wherein one human creature, if only one, had
use for my devotion.

On the sixth day -that is, April 5th — my patience broko
down. I took my resolution over lunch and a bottle of
87

418

ST. IVES

Beaujolais, and walked straifflit hnolr fr««, *i,

that two gentlemen desired to see m I,'" "r""""""

-id I, „,ing down ,n, pen witTaToaping tlrt^'^d'';

bes.de,. t, and Wsg,ove. (after Wowing 'nt tq'Vt^':

to hunt." '* "''"'' y" "S' ''amned e,.sy

I. had risen. " T fnlfP if ,7«„ u
^peak of, sinee amid "r ateTnoiilLr'"^ '""'^^^ '»
have been at pains to se I me o ,t I t TT'-"" ^°"
beb.-ief." KmeoLt. If so, I will ask you to

" No pains at all, "lie corrected iff-,hl„ «ti
all the time that yo„ were here I , i^f' I it'f ,"""
some while before von arriv».l . I ''^P<"='«d you

with a message." ^ ''"' '""' "<"" "y «"'". Paul,

"A message ?"

" T-hen it was not ■"

wiZ^;?.''"^'!^^^ '' ^"^ "^^^^'•- Komaine, to whom^'
with another glance at the letter--! perceive 1, ! 7
writing for explanations. And since vnT ^ ' ^"'^
ask how on earth I traced vouto t T ''"'' ^''P'""^ *«
permit me to inform vou ^'" *" *^'l^^*'^«'' unsavoury den.
HKoim jou that a b - spells ' ab/ and that

■estaiirani;

for pen,

Komaine

5n within

en there
nonnced
lem up,"
; and in
in.

Jhension
lie table
) beside

r agility
led easy

ness to
ns you
you to

known

id you

Paul,

You

m"~
3 only
ng to
' den,
that

IN PARIS—ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 419

Bow Street, when on the track of a criminal, does not neg-
lect to open his correspondence."

I felt my hand tremble as it gripped the top rail of my
chair, but I nuinaged to command my voice to answer,
coldly enough :

" One momejit, Monsieur le Vicomte, before I do my-
self the pleasure of pitching you out of the window.
You have detained me these five days in Paris, and have
done so, you give me to understand, by the simple expedi-
ent of a lie. So far, so good. Will you do me the favor to
complete the interesting self-exposure, and inform me of

your reasons
'' With

he pleasure in life. My plans were not
ready— a .itij« detail wanting, that is all. It is now sup-
plied." He took a chair, seated himself at the table, and
drew a folded paper from his breast-pocket. " It will be
news to you, perhaps, that our uncle— our lamented uncle,
if you choose— is dead these three weeks."
" Rest his soul ! "

" Forgive me if I stop short of that pious hope." Alain
hesitated, let his venom get the better of him, and spat out
an obscure curse on his uncle's memory, which only betrayed
the essential weakness of the man. Recovering himself,
he went on : "I need not recall to you a certain scene (I
confess too theatrical for my taste) arranged by the lawyer
at his bedside ; nor need I help you to an inkling of the
contents of his last will. But possibly it may have slipped
your memory that I gave Romaine fair warning, I prom-
ised him that I would raise the question of undue influ-
ence, and that I had my Avitnesses ready. I have added to
them since, but I own to you that my case will be the
stronger when you have obligingly signed the paper which
I have the honmir to submit to you." Aad ho tossed it,
unopened, across the table.

420

ST. IVES

I picked it np and unfolded it :—

I, the Viscount Anne de Keroual ^a <3«;„* v
under the name of Champdivers^ th! H ' ^^'""'"'^ ^^"'""^

under that name a prisonTofw .' ^. ^"""'ipartist army, and later

state that I had nl^I^Z^^::/::^^'^ t '''^.'"^^'^' '''-''
Saint Yves, nor expectations from , ^"""' ^' ^"«"^' ^e

sought out by Mr iSrI >""' ""^ -«« o-nod by him, until

supplied with m n yT™ Hv^o^ ''""?' ^''"""^^^"' '^^ '»'"
s-uggled at nightfa'lltrim eir^^^^^^^^^ ^ f '"™. ^'""'"""^'^
evening I had never set pvoTI r ? ' * "^^l^er, that until that

since; 'that he ^^^edr de' ."n I « h' "" ''^^'^ "^* ^^^"« ^^ '"-
last stage of senile decav And T . ^^"'' ""' "P^^''^""^ '" ^l^^
Ron,aine did not full/iSm ;:im o h7ci:rstarst ^'^ "" ^^^•
and particularly of my concern in the death of a tn "^ '"'"P"'

O^uelat, formerly a marechal ^^:^^:'::S:: ^^J^

suffice '^ C^ndlo'end fr-^ !^— * let a sa.ple

;nentsi.pi.a;ed^.:n;ir:i:;~^^

tln-ough, and let it drop on tJie table. '="''*'""'• ^ ^^^^ '^

"I beg your pardon," said I '' bnt wTiof ^^
todoM'ithit?" outwhatdoyouwishme

'■'Sign it/' said he.

yol 1* a,:'?,7<ir/,:;f,T ^--r "-' "■»"«"

" Ar^, /i 1 *^ "'t-hfeea loi it, this isnotcom conera "
JNevertheless, you will sio-n " ""i^opeia.

na«ve ? F„,. I J^T;-, ,,^^ --' '» the a,t„,..

" The alternative ?— to bp csnro " i,.. „
''Tl,o,r«o . '^'Joesure, he answered cheerfullv

».t) l.e >„,<, spent . long .„ee b^woLtg » trof

IN PARIS— ALAIN PLAYS IILS LAST CARD 421

my temper. I kept a steady eye on him. and considered •
and the longer I considered the better assured was I that
his game must have a disastrously weak point somewhere,
which it was my business to find.

"'ifou have reminded me of your warning to Mr. Ko-
maine. Tlie subject is an ugly one for two of our family
to touch upon ; but do you happen to recall Mr. Eomaine s
counter-threat?"

" Bluff ! my young sir. It served his purpose for the
moment, I grant you. I was unhinged-the indignity, the
very monstrosity of it, the baselessness staggered reason."

" It was baseless, then ? "

" The best proof is, that in spite of his threat, and my
open contempt and disregard of it, Mr. Romaine has not
stirred a hand."

" You mean that my uncle destroyed the evidence ?"
" I mean nothing of the kind," he retorted hotly, - for

1 deny that any such evidence at any time existed "
I kept my eye on him. " Alain," I said quietly, " you

are a liar." j> j

A flush darkened his face beneath its cosmetics, and with
an oath he dipped finger and thumb into his waistcoat
pocket and pulled out a dog-whistle. " No more of that,"
said xie, "or I whistle up the police this minute."

" Well, well, let us resume the discussion. You sa- this
man Clausel has denounced me ? "

He nodded.

^1 Soldiers of the Empire are cheap in Paris just now."
bo cheap that public opinion would be content if all
the Messieurs Champdivers were to kill all the Messieurs
(xoguelat and be shot or guillotined for it. I forget which
your case demands, and doubt if public opinion would
enquire."

" And yet," I mused, " there must be preliminaries, some

422

ST. IVES

beyond r tzv::^ ti """^^'^ ""»-' -<• i >ook

that a British j„ ! wH ]''/„? 7/ ''"''' "'" »^ P"""*""

prisoner „!,„ l,a, stood hL trial Z T"^""^ B"onaparti.st
radea^ received tlAtr, t Z^^'^ °' » —

-o.'t%Tt;r,!;:;ir;'d:"r' ""'-''"

you ont-at least not iuJ v„ ' ?.""' P™?"*'' '» "i"?

■ tell jou the tr, «°Vo:?n 'LtTh'' ' '^ '" '^^^"P^' ''^^

air. And now, Mons ™^v„ ' """" "' " ""l" '''"'^l'

i^nave in your hand W,l then IT"!-""' ^°" '»" "'«
your foolish paper „„ let ™1 ,; ^ ^ '"'"• ^^'<"* I tear
federate." I stopp d t„'' i™!''^" " '°°'' »' y»"r con-
stairs, "Madame Jupille b 1 T'^ '""'='' '^°>''" "'»
visitor to ascend." «°°'' "" '" '^l' "y other

looking oS:lp™rfo„ltf''7^^''''' "■"• ^'""O «-re
some fye-worksat ifrttd oJ t °"^"'"'' "'"'''« »'
down to the Seine TJjL *''' f ^<«=' '»""<1 it« way
footsteps monnttag the stats "^ '"'' '''"'' ""^ ^P^-^'^d

::?,:™^^/™«". Monsieur, forthis intrusion."
into m/back. : couirn„t\ ^'"' " "'""•«'' »' »hot fired
sudden!,. "M. Se' ™ '^''" '""'"' °" *- ■»»-

aoo^artnd t?:hl%;Vro ttT '''° "'°°'' - «^^
stared at him with th. Kl V u "' '""'» '' ^lain or I

lieve there 1 ign fl Tt liiler '"™'''' "'""8" I be-

" Monsieur the vlscou^? .-tMT' •" °" """P'e^ions.

cent,, effected an eX^. Tht^tkef ™'1-f ' "'^■

effect another, and have left Mr. ClausJrSUlS^ t'o"

even pos-

tid I look
i probable
he Cornte
•napartist
>f a corn-
inch or
3 to fling
3ape. To
tie fresii
lold the
re I tear
5ur con-
>wn the
y other

d there
jf use of
its way
^pected

I si on/'
t fired
1 more

in the
or I
ilbe-
xions.
. *'re-
rty to
ngto

IN PARIS-ALAIN PLAFS HIS LAST CAIID 423

some arguments which are being addressed to him by Mr
Dudgeon, my confidential clerk. I think I may promise "
-withachuckle-'^hey will prove effectual/ TyTur
faces gent emen, I see that you regard my appearance as

Ztt It? " I'TuV' ' ™"-^^^^ ^^'' Monsieurle Vi !
sTmnt r ' ''r"^', "^l^-^^^-^S by this time that it is the
simples , most natural affair in the world. I engaged mv
word sir, to have you watched. Will it be setXn"!
more than ordinary astuteness that, finding you in nego-
tiations for the exchange of the prisoner Ckusel-we kept
an eye upon him also-that we followed him to Dover, aifd
hough unfortunate in missing the boat, reached Par s n
time to watch the pair of you leave your lodgings I i^

rlXdV;'' *^;f^^--"^' -J^'ther you were bound, w
reached the Rue du Fouarre in time to watch you making
your dispositions ? But I run on too fast, Mr. Anne ; I am
entrusted with a letter for you. When, with Mr. Alain^

Sn"' '"^ '"' "^' ''' ''' "'" ^^^"-^ -- kittle 0011-

wh!i^ wtt ""'^^^ ''"'' '"^ ''""^^'^ '' '^'^ fir^Pl-^e^

ma iff .h^ ? ''P^'"''^' ^^"'^ ^^^'^ 'y^' ^""^ like a
mastiff about to spring. I broke open my letter and

stooped to pick up a small enclosure which fell fl^m it.
My Dearest Anne,

" "e dl ntr T"'',""''' ""'' '" ' "'* •■"" 'Oil vou w.«. we
■>>, at'., you let. u, I „.d . ..,k „,u, Major n„.,ed,, anjlri

424

ST. IVES

well, and would p^ov i7 UesSu H "'" ''"' ^^''^ '^^ ^^'^^ ™<^
one for the military authoride/al .k ''.^' "^"'°'* ^"" "^« ^^^^''^
«ure that you badV^d 1 t nto^l.^l,'^. '''^^ """"^ ^^^ ^^^'^^
which ^^as quite a differentrir f "° "" ^"'""^ "-^ ^««°«'>

could not only n^ake an affidavL ' " ?"' '"''' '"'''' """^ '^^^ he
account, ^^ntL:.lZTo7 Zl T^'^^'^^ «" '^^^ -«

the truth. AVhich he dfd t.l ^'''"''' '« '"'^'^'^ '"^ ^'"nfess

and Mr. Robbie 1 a el f IZ' "'',* ''""'^ ''''' '"^'^ ^lausel sign it;
with thia to Mr. Ronmirfn r . ' f "''"'"' "'"^^' ''' '« «««ding

ley (who is a dea^ircon^: over 1 '" ""* '^ '''^ "'^^°" ^"^ «-'-
write these hurried linos He I T '' T"'""^ "^ "'^ ^^■^^•^'^'" while I
just in time, since Cl^ud'srS' ' ""' '"'^''^ ^'"^'"^'"^ ^^ -'^
and he is gJing back : F Lef "1? 't ^f ?" -^-'-"^^ ^- l^in'
^ laute. And so in haste I write myself.

Your sincere friend,
You told oe to „„,e „, „„j .„ i „„„ , „ j ,^^^^^^^ ^^_^^ ,,

anJ™ :"""' "- """'o ™ " large and unformed hand,

»EAu Mu. Anne, Respected Sir,

Thia i, to tell j„„ Mr, MacE T, ''"""""-'"'i ClauMl ha. contest.

n.e. Mi.s Flora »,. , hoTn. pu, m"1 "'Jr-"'" "'•"'m her, „„,
«n. e,.e hut . „ /aea. .eeX'^ r Lt^r.^:.;: r""

Yours Respectfully,

Jas. Rowly.
Having read these otters throiiffh I nl^np^ fi, •

n>a;„e, ..! ^ZITI^T^^Z,^:^^^ '" ^'- «°-
wmch (,no. ol J as a matter of generosity, or, say.

told him 80)
e wislied me
was really
for feeling
of honour^
md that he
3n his own
im confess
isel sign it ;
is sending
why Kow-
len while I
c was only
ro for him,
self,
d,

Flora.
a.
u, Anne."

d hand.

ent, all ia
I confest.
an which
her, not
is some-
ir;

in mv
Plain's
r. Ro-

liscnss
f, say,

IN PAKLS-ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 425

Mr. ^A\^lT °^ ^'"' ^'"''^ '"'' ^' ^'""''^'^ ^^ ^^^"-*°
'' You forget Clausel, I think/' snarled my cousin.

to ZT: I ^ll^^^f **«^ <=^'1^"^«1-" Mr. Romaine stepped
M T '^''"'' ^"^ ''^"^^ ^^0^^"' -Dudgeon '"

Mr Dudgeon appeared, and endeavoured to throw info

the stiffness of his salutation a denial that he had ever

waltzed with me m the moonlight.
''Where is the man Clausel ?" *

of the rete d'Or at the top or the bottom of tliis street ; F
pi-esume the bottom, since the sewer runs in that direction.
At a_ll events Mr Clausel disappeared about two minutes
ago in the other. '

Alain sprang up, whistle in hand.

"Put it down," said Mr. Romaine ; " the man was cheat-
ing you. I can only hope,'' he added with a sour smile.

mat you paid him on account with an I 0 U "

But Alain turned at bay. - One trivial pdnt seems to
have escaped you, Master Attorney, or your courage is
more than I g,ve you credit for. The English are none
too popular ,n Paris as yet, and this is not the most scrunii-
lous quarter One blast of this wliistle, a cry of " bJiou
anylais," and two Englishmen "

" Say three," Mr. Romaine interrupted, and strode to

::;i:;;air::'^^"^^

And here let me cry " Halt ! " There are things in thi.
woid-or that IS my belief-too J^itiful to be set down in
writing and of these Alain's collapse was one. It mly be

"he nV -/r"'"' ^''''^''' --.'l^teousness accllti
rathei ill with the weapon he used so unsparingly. Of
J^ennlneed on y sav tbnt fbo ln'-ir,i. >. i /- .

f}iv,>nrri. fi 1 "^ , ^"^cious I'ogue shouMerod

thiough the doorway as though he had a public duty to

426

ST. IVES

) !■

eager to denoMco his fe low ra'itu nfr' "''^fT™'"'^
pulsion, l,e would 11 fZ > , ^ '^ " '''<e cora-

seemed that it was through Penn th\t M, p , ^

first happened on ih. S , . . ^'' ^^omaine had

six thousand francs IMV p ™r"' " J^™'''}' Pension of

that he sho,.ld never serflf?""''- "^"^ '' " °'>°'J'"»»
ing that ho would certativ r" '",^"f''""J ' ^ut see-
twentv.four hours of h^i^. "f?!''''' ^"^ "'"W ""hin
..nneo'essa" "* "' ^'"""'' ^ "'™«l>t 'his

But I was silent.

CHAPTER XXXVI

I 00 TO CLAIM FLORA

Behold me now speeding northwards on the wings of

love, ballasted b> Mr. Roniaine. BuL indeed, :hat worthy

man climbed into the cal(^che witli something lesh. than his

habitual gravity. He was obviously and pardonabl / flushed

with triumph. I observed that now and again ho smiled

to himself in the twilight, or drew in his breath and

emitted it with a martial pouf ! And when he began to

talk— which he did as soon as we were clear of the Saint

Denis barrier-the points of the family lawyer were un-

trussed. He leaned back in the cah^che with the air of a

man who liad subscribed to the Peace of Europe and dined

well on top of it. He criticised the fortifications with a

wave of his toothpick, and discoursed derisively and at

large on the Emperor's abdication, on the treachery of the

JJuke of Ragusa, on the prospects of the Bourbons, and on

the character of M. Talleyrand, with anecdotes which made

up in racmess for what they lacked in authenticity.

We were bowling through La Chapelle svhen he pulled
out his snuff-box and proffered it.

" You are silent, Mr. Anne."

"I was waiting for the chorus," said I. " 'Rule, Britan-
ma . Britannia rules the waves : and Britons never
never, never—' Come, out with it ! "

;' Well," he retorted, -and I hope the tune will come
4Aaiurai co you before long."

437

428

RT. IVKS

-HI, ti,o cr„r;r. „" w^ ':ri "™"'*° """^ "-"-
"7-0 f,...„ „, „„ ,::,:"„vr -,'"'";"," '° """" "-

w//e of tho Onoi-i n^n f^ ^"'^toiiiu. I luive seen t|,o

tl.c bet blood in I'wei''" '7,™''"" ''''''"' "'»■''"'

by gr„,..s^ot, ™.rt lel/ef :' l'"'r '''°'"' "°""
for Fmnce ™d the little mantn "J , "'^°" '" <=''»■■
m^inc, no doubt my niemorJ wili^ ^i " '"""' ^'- «»■
tl'oir betters, and tLTZlLT T'l"" '^""^ '"''» '""'
'^'Ov^m, just ast Se no d ,.T ' '"i,''""' ■" "'°-'"«
tiee of the Peace and Bom,tv Li, t "'" ' "'"' •"^^"« J-
B'-kinghan.. I «„, cC;,f,^;tX "" '''"' »'
mo, and, on my faith she 1,„! oounti'y, as you remind
the sake of her I a™ 71,1 , "" F'^" '" '"»• ""' for

give me time." '^'" "™ ' ™Poat, you must

f«t.'^™ ""<• ^''^"-™'' Mr! A„,i:'^''vo„ ilr;;::

As we approached Saint Deni« tb« «„ . , .
sensibly slackened, and a mrii ^ T °' *"' ''''™""«
olling-cap over his ears and tn^^"'"'' ''" P""'"^ '"« "-"v-
wide-awake beside him The" ",'° ''"""'^'■- ' »"'

oWll in it, and the bmatlfof """f "'«'" '""• " "">* «'
upon the lamps of the « thl IZ '"•''"""« """"'

t;veen me an'd the posSrtb:::tld'"''''^^
black spires of the poplar avennp« ^r • ''''^'' ^^'^

moved in parade, m/ ,e ?? ' ?' ^'^g'^ents of stars
i' '^^ • -^^ ^'""t "P to the ensign of their

I GO TO CLAIM FLORA

420

noiseless evolntions, to tho pole-star, mid to Cassiopeia
swiuging beneath it, low in the north, over my Flora's nil-
low— mi/ pole-star and jonrney's end.

Under this soothing refl-\v.. I composed myself to
slumber, and awoke, to my surprise and annoyance, in a
miserable flutter of the ne- v(. • Afi<; this fretfulness in-
creased with the hours, soih.-.: fro! : Amiens to tiie coast
Mr. Romaine must have had :- 3 devil of a time with me.
I bolted my meals at the way-houses, chafing' .,11 the while
at the business of the relays. I popped up and down in
the caleche like a shot on a hot shovel. I cursed our pace.
I girded at the lawyer's snuff-box and could have called
him out upon Calais sands, when we reached them, to jus-
tify his vile, methodical use of it. By good fortune we
arrived to find the packet ready with her warps, and bun-
dled ourselves on board in a hurry. AVe sought separate
cabins for the night, and in mine, as in a sort of moral
bath, the drastic cross seas of the Channel cleansed me of
my irritable humour and left me like a rag beaten and
hung on a clothes-line to the winds of heaven.

In the grey of the morning Ave diseml)arked at Dover
and hei-eMr. Romaine had -prepared a surprise for me
For as Ave drew to the shore and the throng of porters and
waterside loafers, on what should my gaze alii,dit but the
beaming countenance of Mr. Rowley ! I declare it com-
municated a roseate flush to the pallid cliffs of Albion I
could have fallen on his neck. On his side the honest lad
kept touching his hat and grinning in a speechless ecstasy.
As he confessed to me later, -It was either hold my
tongue, sir, or call for three cheers." He snatched my
valise and ushered us through the croAvd to our hotel
brejikfast. And it seemed he must have filled up his tim «
at LJover with trumpetings of our importance, for the lai-d-
lord welcomed us on the perron, obseiuiously cringing

430

ST. IVES

«is (,race of Wellington himseH ; and the waiters T ho
l.eve, wonld have gone on all four^ bnt for tie d fflouUv'

2l ,if/ ^ ? " ^'^'^"■'"g* ; " great English landowner
and did my best to eommand the mien proper to tl at trl'

bot^MTb:""' '""T' "-P^'^'-o/w:' a^ t

Z^Tjy. '"''"' '""^ '» "'^ "«- -here our ehaise

Eowvl'""" '" "'" ' "' ^'s" °' ■'■ »" »y ^^0 -.gM

ordlfff '°®/°'"' P""'''"''' ='■■' >"" I '»»k it on myself to
order the colonr, and hoping it wasn't a liberty." ^

b«l.et-r„i: Anting "'"^ '""'~'' '^"''■-'^' •""* '- »

An'3' '* ' "*""'' "'' '" '" '» '^^ »° »J »™ hook, Mr.
•' We fight under the old colours, my lad."

Wh^ n '"5 ",■"*/"' "™ '""^' ^'■•' strike me lacky!"
Mr RoL i1 "'■'"'« "'' ''"■^'^'"g" to^rds London-

upon tricw' rold':; *r ^'"'^ "" ««'^IP--ohed

Ai.bur;:f^j;rLr^s;:^^^^^^^

ffood.hpirfori lo/i J 1 1 ^owiey ot yours seems a

next time I have to travel post with an impatient lover Fll
take a lea out of his book and buy me a flageolet."

feir, it was ungrateful of me "

"Tut tut, Mr. Anne. I was fresh from mv little tv\

ror a word of approb...,on-a little pat on the back a, T
may say. It ,s not often that I have felt the need of it
twice or thnce in m- life, perhaps; not often enouth^
justify my anticipating your example and seeking a wi

I GO TO CLAIM FLORA

431

r«

betimes, for that is a man's one chance if he wants another
to taste his success."

"And yet I dare swear you rejoice in mine, unselfishly
enough."

" Why, no, sir ; your cousin would have sent me .0 the
right-about within a week of his succession. Still, I own
to you that he offended something at least as deep as self-
interest ; the sight and scent of him habitually turned my
gorge ; whereas "—and he inclined to me with a Avy smile
— " your unwisdom at least was amiable, and—in short,
sir, though you can be infernally provoking, it has been a
pleasure to serve you."

You may be sure that this did not lessen my contrition.
We reached London late that night, and here Mr. Romaine
took leave of us. Business waited for him at Amersham
Phice. After a few hours' sleep, Rowley woke me to choose
between two post-boys in blue jackets and white hats and
two in buff jackets and black hats, who were competing for
the honour of conveying us as far as Barnet, and having de-
cided in favour of the blue-and-white, and solaced the buff-
and-black with a pour-boire, we pushed forward once more.
We were now upon the Great North Road, along which
the York mail rolled its steady ten miles an hour, to the
waftod niusic of tlie guard's bugle— a rate of speed which, to
the more Dorian mood of Mr. Rowley's flageolet, I proposed
to better by one-fifth. But first, having restored the lad
to his old seat beside me, I must cross-question him upon
his aavcntures in Edinburgh and the latest news of Flora
and her aunt, Mr. Robbie, Mrs. McRankine, and the rest of
my friends. It came out that Mi. Rowley's surrender to
my dear girl had been both instantaneous and complete.
" Slie is a floorer, Mr. Anne. I suppose now, sir, you'll
be standing up for that knock-me-down kind of thing ?"
" Explain yourself, my lad."

432

ST. IVES

s.v'lif"^ ,T' '""■''°"' '"■ """" 'hoy eall love at first

))

--''iV/j oil-

Tl|e Queen of Navarre, Mr. Rowley "

Mf:VeL::,.t'z:''rf "^ ^ '"'"-p^-it took

l'"".!. She toM ,;le so » ' ^ "'""' *" ''^'- ^""^ '"■«■

M^^^L^r™^^^- ^— -^et „.. to

cM^^t t ,e note „, ,t-bj;t .,„e ..v^o't T„' "'' " ^°"

amnsement f • ' e v . m t," "''" ""' in<='-ednlons
ion a„c, a n.omJZ"-^"^'^ "" ' S'"-""-"-
ery, and tl,e tnulitio, : " ody-servic '111' "" '"" '"■"'-
«-t when thegent,e„.a„ ^^^IZZ^l^^tl'
a sympathetic wound. Wlnt tor ^^^'/^^^^'^^^^ ^'I'^ll t'-^I^o
than that a gentleman of K.) ^ ? 1^ ^' more nutnn.I

fifty for his frrsesTintloT^ '^^'"^^ '^^^^^'^ ^^^^^^ «f
Mcknldne ! ^^ ^'"'^'' P''^^^^^"' StiH-Bethiuh

I kept my countenanrn y^[^\^ «, , r. nr t> , ,
;aid I. .. if „„,ie be ti,e food of ^ I „ on"" T'f '
Rowley ffjive *' The rirl u tu r, V ' ^ ^ ' ^"^ ^^^-

b"t a,f„r. ^4h te^rifl ' e p";: i„"f 'l*'"*^'r' "'■■'^'
slight "Hei.'ho I" i., , f*'™- He broke off with a

" But now r„, hound for Brighton camp-
K„ul !H..von then pr.y guide a.e,
And send me safely back again
To the Girl I left behind ine I"

I GO TO CLAIM FLORA

433

Thenceforward that not nninspiriting air became the
motif of our progress. We never tired of it. Whenever
our conversation flagged, by tacit consent Mr. Rowley
p.ieced his flageolet together and stnrted it. The horses
lilted it out in their gallop : the harness jingled, the pos-
tilions tittuppcd to it. And the presto with which it
wound up as we came to a post-house and a fresh relay of
horses, had to be heard to be believed.

So with the chaise windows open to the vigorous airs of
spring, and my own breast like a window thing wide to
youth and health and happy expectations, I rattled homo-
wards ; impatient as a lover should be, yet not too im-
patient to taste the humour of spinning like a lord, with a
pocketful of money, along the road which the ci-devant M.
Champdivers had so fearfully dodged and skirted in Bur-
chell Fenn's covered cart.

And yet so impatient, that when we galloped over the
Calton Hill and down into Edinburgh by the new London
road, with the wind in our faces and a sense of April in it,
brisk and jolly, I must pack off Rowley to our lodgings
with the valises, and stay only for a wush and breakfast at
Dumbreck's before posting on to Swanston olone.

" Whene'er my steps return that way,
Still faithful sliall whe find me.
And never more again I'll stray
From the Girl I loft behind me."

Where the gables of the cottage rose into view over the
hill's shoulder I dismissed my driver and walked forward,
whistling the tune : but fell silent as I came under the lee
of the garden wall, and sought for the exact spot of my old
escalade. I found it by the wide beechen branches over
the road, and hoisted myself noiselessly up to the coping,
where, as before, they screened me— or would have screened
me had I cared to wait.
88

434

ST. IVES

kp of her morning i;„Z, f r?""' *"''» ™d "«

'"S her, witli his biicic 't,.«-,J' ?"■ ^"'^ confront-

between tho „rn,l,o et o 1 i :;"i i'" ".■™"'»>''ered patch
gardener rested boU la^k o , f.'""''-'^»'«'™'"> Bobie the

"But Hike to , kTy uls'r'' ="■' ^^P»«tal''ted.

" Aweel, miss • it', nT '^^ ""' "' " ""• ^obie I"

say to yon." ' "' "''""' ™""" ^o bulbs, that's all I

And that was all I waited to hear A, 1,. l, .
resumed his digging I shooV ,1 , *""'* °''<"' »"<•

both hands and s!t ft Ltif, ^l"", "' '^ ''^-'' '"tb
glaneed "P and, spying nefite,^ '"'''• *'"" ""="" ""«

" What ails re, S'" ' r!k " ?"?'"« '""'' »'7-
stanter ; but she !?,?,' , • f '" '"''•"gbtened himself in-

gazing t;w::ds «,e' kftltfSrde?''-'''""' '""» »" ™

I rn'olfp'S'"' " "'"'" "™"g "'^arti-the strawberry-beds,

'".ipsSaU^^eVr/aTf,™- ^"^ '-™<>et the
and her heavenly bL'sh a ' ^t st't TT' "^ °'«''"'"'^-'

tbat now my arms\^:"ZreSd7„T* "'^ "'^"^"^^

"Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know. . » ■

-rii!:diin:x^:ttr:r "■■'^^^ '^^

^^" :„'a'tr ranTrf h^t"^"- =^^^

«!- to wune. otr emCl '""' "™''' ""^ J- ' "

I GO TO CLAIM FLORA

435

e, not fif-
^ goddsss,
hine and
and the
h flowers
ionf rent-
ed patcli
obie tlie
stulated.
hie I "
t's all I

ver and
3h with
tie and
cry.
self in-
id was

'^-beds,

et the
dness,
ms to
rence

• the
•lleo-
Light

it iu

"The good Lord behear!" ho exclaimed, stood stock-
still for a moment, and waddled olf at top speed towards
tlie back door.

" We must tell Aunt at once ! She will— why, Anne,
where are you going?" She caught my sleeve.

" To the h' u-house, to be sure," suid I.

A moment later, with peals of happy laughter we had
taken hands and were running along the garden allevs tow-
ards the house. And I remember, as we ran, finding it
somewhat singular that this should be the first time
I had ever invaded Swanston Cottage by way of the front
door.

We came upon Mrs. Gilchrist in the breakfast-room. A
pile of linen lay on the horse-hair sofa, and the good lady,
with a measuring-tape in one hand and a pair of scissors
in the other, was walking around Ronald, who stood on
the hearthrug in a very manly attitude. She regarded me
over her gold-rimmed spectacles, and, shifting the scissors
into her left hand, held out her right.

"H'm/'said she; "I give ye good-morning, Mosha.
And what night you be wanting of us this time ?"

" Madam," I answered, " that I hope, is fairly evi-
dent." ■ ^

Ronald came forward. ''I congratulate you, Saint-
Yves, with all my heart. And you may congratulate me :.
I have my commission."

" Nay, then," said I, " let me rather congratulate Frnnce
that the war is over. Seriously, my dear fellow, I Aiah
you joy. Vrhat's the regiment ?"

'' The 4th."

" Chevenix's ! "

"Chevenix is a decent fellow. He has behaved very
well, indeed he has."
" Very well indeed," said Flora, nodding her head.

ST, IVES

"He has the knack Ti i- •*
any the better for it-l_- ^°" ^""P""* "^^ to like h'm

f «or,." Sho opened and C L '" """" "' " f" »'

An the evfuiinf" nr *' ^ u ,. '
Edinburgh bj so;,r „ ;; ^'d "? ' '""^^"^ ''■'"^ *»

»y feet tonched earth wh „ trdt " '° ™^ '""S"'*'"- »"<1
Bethiah McEanki„e. °°' "'" °P™<«" '" me by

"But where is Eowley ?» r „,wj „
'ng round my sitting-room "'""™' '"'«•' >»"''-

■■■ the wind^ And'ha-s „ bS thi^r' '"■"" '" ""^ '™"^'^<1
*"I 0, pepper„.int in hia littl wl '™" ''"' '""' ^ ^P«-

nretol t^^^IS^^'' *'- -' '- upon the advent-

I^'lora and I wero nvn-.M-^^ i .
settled for little overjx nlZ'^ '".f '™' »'' ''«' ''een
Amersham Place JL "'T^" """/ "'" =Pl«.do„r, „,
-'ape from Elba. Th™,; o .t t e"e?' "" ^™1'-'"'^ -
e.':ouraio„s of the HunS , ' ^'^'equent alarums and

"amed them for „s) i have ^ i"' ''" ^'"'»'"' '
Anne sat still and wanii,-!.^'^^^ "»' *« Vicon

^ ^'ear,

Anne eat still and wnn,,M, ""'^<''" "'»' the

To be sure, Napoton lit '■""'' "' "'" >^"»^^'-

tor the .<,;„.r ™ t "■7,7"--'--.a"dIImd ;: ,,

">-dy, in legal bJ^^eeu^^ll^rV" f f '^^^ •'"'

I'iiidhe, a "naturaiJKod"

I GO TO CLAIM FLORA

437

^ like him

Jier most
^ <i pair of

n i';is ad

you

b.'ok to
li not in-
i»g^. and
to n^,e by

er, look-
He came
troubled
I spoon-

ad vent-

d been
Jurs of

•r's es-
(is and
mbo.:|
conif,'
ear

isod "

one, having, as Mr. Romaine put it, a stake in flie country,
not to speak of a growing interest in its game-Lws and the
local administration of justice. In short, here was a situa-
tion to tickle a casuist. It did not, I mny say, tickle me in
the least, but played the mischief with my jwace^ If you,
my friends, having weighed tlie joyoand coN/ra. would have
counselled inaction, possibly allowing for tiio hebetude ile
foyer and the fact that Flora was soon to become a mother,
you might have predicted it. At any rate, I sat still and
read the newspapers ; and on the top of them came a letter
from Ronald, announcing that the 4ch had their march-
ing, or rather their sailing, orders, and that within a week
his boat would rock by the pier of Leith to convey him
and his comrades to join the Duke of Wellington's forces
in the Low Countries. Forthwith, notliing would suit my
dear girl but we must post to Edinburgh to bid him fare-
well—in a chariot, this time, with a box seat for her maid
and Mr. Rowley. We reached Swanston in time for Ronald
to spend the eve of his departure with us at the cottage ;
and very gallant the boy looked in his scarlet uniform,
which he wore for the ladies' benefit, and which (God
forgive us men !) they properly bedewed with their tears.

Early next morning we drove over to the city and drew
up in the thick of the crowd gathered at the foot of the
Castle Hill to see the 4th march out. We had waited half
an hour, perhaps, when we heard two thumps of a drum
and the first notes of the regimental quick-step sounded
within the walls ; the sentry at the outer gate stepped back
and presented arms, and the ponderous archway grew
bright with the red coats and brazen instruments of the
band. The farewells on their side had been said ; and the
inexorable tramp-tramp upon the drawbridge was the
burthen of their answer to the waving handkerchiefs,
the huzzas of the citizens, the cries of the women. On

438

ST. IVES

fe^h^ve^r-rSt^ttrf '."f^"" '"e band, rose
""luted. I ..evor l^aZ Z\n'T, " l'*''' ""'> g™vely
a fine figure thc-o. An 11 "' k'/." "■"."""'" '" '"""^
;ia eyes rested on Flora I Z,,,'^™ »''«'«: '" -hile
thml company, where Knsign I onaM , r'r'' °' "'-^
bes.de the tattered o„l„„r.s, with 1 , held T" """■'='""'
colour on his y„„„g ^heek „„d a 1 VT^ " ' ""^ " '"«''
passed us. " "P '""' quivered as ho

"God bless you, Ronald!"
Left u'hnpl r " Ti,., I, 1

H swung routd 'the I teHnji' h «''^°' "•^'"^ "«»»"
'•earraukandthe.adiut"nth. 1, , ^""K" ^'^et ; the
Market. Our drivt^^'ttoSif '' "Tf "'' ""^ i""
when Flora's hand stolel o " e' VTrT\*^ ">"^-.
own conflicting thoughts to co« fort ter " '™'" "^

band, rose
nd gravely
fc Jie made
for while
E?'ir of the
' marched
nd a high
3red as he

ig behind
reet; the
he Lawn
o follow,
from my

^P^

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