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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Of High Descent, by George Manville Fenn
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Of High Descent
+
+Author: George Manville Fenn
+
+Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34246]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OF HIGH DESCENT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
+
+
+
+
+Volume 1, Chapter I.
+
+"IN THE WEST COUNTREE."
+
+"Take care, Mr Luke Vine, sir.  There's a big one coming."
+
+The thin, little, sharp-featured, grey-haired man on a rock looked
+sharply round, saw the big one coming, stooped, picked up a large
+basket, and, fishing-rod in hand, stepped back and climbed up a few
+feet, just as a heavy swell, which seemed to glide along rapidly over
+the otherwise calm sea, heaved, flooded the rock on which he had been
+standing, ran right up so high as to bathe his feet, then sank back in a
+series of glittering falls which sparkled in the glorious sunshine:
+there was a hissing and sighing and sucking noise among the rocks, and
+the wave passed on along the rugged coast, leaving the sea calm and
+bright once more.
+
+"Many a poor lad's been took like that, Mr Luke, sir," said the
+speaker, "and never heard of again.  Why, if I hadn't called out, it
+would have took you off your legs, and the current's so strong here
+you'd have been swept away."
+
+"And there'd been an end of me, Polly, and nobody a bit the worse, eh?"
+
+The last speaker seemed to fill his sharp, pale face full of tiny
+wrinkles, and reduced his eyes to mere slits, as he looked keenly at the
+big robust woman at his side.  She was about fifty, but with her black
+hair as free from grey as that of a girl, her dark eyes bright, and her
+sun-tanned face ruddy with health, as she bent forward with a great
+fish-basket supported on her back by means of a broad leather strap
+passed over her print sun-bonnet and across her forehead.
+
+"Nobody the worse, Mr Luke, sir?" cried the woman.  "What a shame to
+talk like that!  You arn't no wife, nor no child, but there's Miss
+Louise."
+
+"Louisa, woman, Louisa," said the fisher sharply.
+
+"Well, Louisa, sir.  I only want to be right; but it was only yes'day as
+old Miss Vine, as stood by when I was selling her some hake, shook her
+finger at me and said I was to say Miss Louise."
+
+"Humph!  Never mind what my sister says.  Christened Louisa.--That ought
+to fetch 'em."
+
+"Yes, sir; that ought to fetch 'em," said the woman in a sing-song way,
+as the elderly man gave the glistening bait at the end of his running
+line a deft swing and sent it far out into the bright sea.  "I've seen
+the water boiling sometimes out there with the bass leaping and playing.
+What, haven't you caught none, sir?"
+
+"No, Polly, not one; so just be off about your business, and don't worry
+me with your chatter."
+
+"Oh, I'm a-going, sir," said the woman good-humouredly; "only I see you
+a-fishing, and said to myself, `Maybe Mr Luke Vine's ketched more than
+he wants, and he'd like to sell me some of 'em for my customers.'"
+
+"And I haven't seen a bass this morning, so be off."
+
+"Toe be sure, Mr Luke Vine, sir; and when are you going to let me come
+up and give your place a good clean?  I says to my 'Liza up at your
+brother's, sir, only yes'day--"
+
+"Look here, Polly Perrow," cried the fisher viciously, "will you go, or
+must I?"
+
+"Don't be criss-cross, sir, I'm going," said the woman, giving her
+basket a hitch.  "Here's Miss Louise--isa--coming down the rocks with
+Miss Madlin."
+
+"Hang her confounded chatter!" snarled the fisher, as he drew out his
+bait, unwound some more line, and made another throw, "bad as those
+wretched stamps."
+
+He cast an angry glance up at the mining works high on the cliff-side,
+whose chimney-shaft ran along the sloping ground till it reared itself
+in air on the very top of the hill, where in constant repetition the
+iron-shod piles rose and fell, crushing the broken ore to powder.  "A
+man might have thought he'd be free here from a woman's tongue."
+
+He gave another glance behind him, along the rocky point which jutted
+out several hundred yards, and formed a natural breakwater to the
+estuary, which ran, rock-sheltered, right up into the land, and on
+either side of which were built rugged flights of natural steps, from
+the bright water's edge to where, five hundred feet above, the grey
+wind-swept masses of granite looked jagged against the sky.
+
+Then he watched his great painted float, as it ran here and there in the
+eddies of the tremendous Atlantic currents which swept along by the
+point.  The sea sparkled, the sun shone, and the grey gulls floated
+above the deep blue transparent water, uttering a querulous cry from
+time to time, and then dipping down at the small shoals of fry which
+played upon the surface.
+
+Far away seaward a huge vessel was going west, leaving behind a trail of
+smoke; on his right a white-sailed yacht or two glistened in the sun.
+In another direction, scattered here and there, brown-sailed luggers
+were passing slowly along; while behind the fisher lay the picturesque
+straggling old town known as East and West Hakemouth, with the estuary
+of the little river pretty well filled with craft, from the fishing
+luggers and trawlers up to the good-sized schooners and brigs which
+traded round the coast or adventured across the Bay of Storms, by Spain
+and through the Straits, laden with cargoes of pilchards for the Italian
+ports.
+
+"Missed him," grumbled the fisher, withdrawing his line to re-bait with
+a pearly strip of mackerel.  "Humph! now I'm to be worried by those
+chattering girls."
+
+The worry was very close at hand, for directly after, balancing
+themselves on the rough rocks, and leaping from mass to mass, came two
+bright-looking girls of about twenty, their faces flushed by exercise,
+and more than slightly tanned by the strong air that blows health-laden
+from the Atlantic.
+
+As so often happens in real life as well as in fiction, the companions
+were dark and fair; and as they came laughing and talking, full of
+animation, looking a couple of as bonny-looking English maidens as the
+West Country could produce, their aspect warranted, in reply to the
+greetings of "Ah, Uncle Luke!"
+
+"Ah, Mr Vine!" something a little more courteous than--
+
+"Well, Nuisance?" addressed with a short nod to the dark girl in white
+serge, and "Do, Madelaine?" to the fair girl in blue.
+
+The gruffness of the greeting seemed to be taken as a matter of course,
+for the girls seated themselves directly on convenient masses of rock,
+and busied themselves in the governance of sundry errant strands of hair
+which were playing in the breeze.
+
+The elderly fisher watched them furtively, and his sour face seemed a
+little less grim, and as if there was something after all pleasant to
+look upon in the bright youthful countenances before him.
+
+"Well, uncle, how many fish?" said the dark girl.
+
+"Bah! and don't chatter, or I shall get none at all.  How's dad?"
+
+"Quite well.  He's out here somewhere."
+
+"Dabbling?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The girl took off her soft yachting cap, and fanned her face; then
+ceased, and half closing her eyes and throwing back her head, let her
+red lips part slightly as she breathed in full draughts of the soft
+western breeze.
+
+"If he ever gives her a moment's pain," said the old man to himself, as
+he jerked a look up at the mining works, "I'll kill him."  Then, turning
+sharply to the fair girl, he said aloud--"Well, Madelaine, how's the
+_bon pere_?"
+
+"Quite well, and very busy seeing to the lading of the _Corunna_" said
+the girl with animation.
+
+"Humph!  Old stupid.  Worrying himself to death money-grubbing.  Here,
+Louie, when's that boy going back to his place?"
+
+"To-morrow, uncle."
+
+"Good job too.  What did he want with a holiday?  Never did a day's work
+in his life.  Here!  Hold her, Louie.  She's going to peck," he added in
+mock alarm, and with a cynical sneering laugh, as he saw his niece's
+companion colour slightly, and compress her lips.
+
+"Well, it's too bad of you, uncle.  You are always finding fault about
+Harry."
+
+"Say Henri, pray, my child, and with a good strong French accent," cried
+the old man, with mock remonstrance.  "What would Aunt Marguerite say?"
+
+"Aunt Margaret isn't here, uncle," cried the girl merrily; "and it's of
+no use for you to grumble and say sour things, because we know you by
+heart, and we don't believe in you a bit."
+
+"No," said the fisherman grimly, "only hate me like poison, for a sour
+old crab.  Never gave me a kiss when you came."
+
+"How could I, without getting wet?" said the girl, with a glance at the
+tiny rock island on which the fisher stood.
+
+"Humph!  Going back to-morrow, eh?  Good job too.  Why, he has been a
+whole half-year in his post."
+
+"Yes, uncle, a whole half-year!"
+
+"And never stayed two months before at any of the excellent situations
+your father and I worried ourselves and our friends to death to get for
+him."
+
+"Now, uncle--"
+
+"A lazy, thoughtless, good-for-nothing young vag--There, hold her again,
+Louie.  She's going to peck."
+
+"And you deserve it, uncle," cried the girl, with a smile at her
+companion, in whose eyes the indignant tears were rising.
+
+"What! for speaking the truth, and trying to let that foolish girl see
+my lord in his right colours?"
+
+"Harry's a good affectionate brother, and I love him very dearly," said
+Louise, firmly; "and he's your brother's son, uncle, and in your heart
+you love him too, and you're proud of him as proud can be."
+
+"You're a silly young goose, and as feather-brained as he is.  Proud of
+him?  Bah!  I wish he'd enlist for a soldier, and get shot."
+
+"For shame, uncle!" cried Louise indignantly; and her face flushed too
+as she caught and held her companion's hand.
+
+"Yes.  For shame!  It's all your aunt's doing, stuffing the boy's head
+full of fantastic foolery about his descent, and the disgrace of trade.
+And now I am speaking, look here," he cried, turning sharply on the fair
+girl, and holding his rod over her as if it were a huge stick which he
+was about to use.  "Do you hear, Madelaine?"
+
+"I'm listening, Mr Vine," said the girl, coldly.
+
+"I've known you ever since you were two months old, and your silly
+mother must insist upon my taking hold of you--you miserable little bit
+of pink putty, as you were then, and fooled me into being godfather.
+How I could be such an ass, I don't know--but I am, and I gave you that
+silver cup, and I've wanted it back ever since."
+
+"Oh, uncle, what a wicked story!" cried Louise, laughing.
+
+"It's quite true, miss.  Dead waste of money.  It has never been used,
+I'll swear."
+
+"No, Mr Vine, never," said Madelaine, smiling now.
+
+"Ah, you need not show your teeth at me because you're so proud they're
+white.  Lots of the fisher-girls have got better.  That's right, shut
+your lips up, and listen.  What I've got to say is this: if I see any
+more of that nonsense there'll be an explosion."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said Madelaine, colouring more deeply.
+
+"Yes you do, miss.  I saw Harry put his arm round your waist, and I
+won't have it.  What's your father thinking about?  Why, that boy's no
+more fit to be your husband than that great, ugly, long, brown-bearded
+Scotchman who poisons the air with his copper-mine, is to be Louie's."
+
+"Uncle, you are beyond bearing to-day."
+
+"Am I?  Well then, be off.  But you mind, Miss Maddy, I won't have it.
+You'll be silly enough to marry some day, but when you do, you shall
+marry a man, not a feather-headed young ass, with no more brains than
+that bass.  Ah, I've got you this time, have I?"
+
+He had thrown in again, and this time struck and hooked a large fish,
+whose struggles he watched with grim satisfaction, till he drew it
+gasping and quivering on to the rock--a fine bass, whose silver sides
+glistened like those of a salmon, and whose sharp back fin stood up
+ready to cut the unwitting hand.
+
+"Bad for him, Louie," said the old man with a laugh; "but one must have
+dinners, eh?  What a countenance!" he continued, holding up his fish;
+"puts me in mind of that fellow you have up at the house--what's his
+name, Priddle, Fiddle?"
+
+"Pradelle, uncle."
+
+"Ah, Pradelle.  Of course he's going back too."
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"Don't like him," continued Uncle Luke, re-baiting quickly and throwing
+out; "that fellow has got scoundrel written in his face."
+
+"For shame!  Mr Vine," said Madelaine, laughing.  "Mr Pradelle is very
+gentlemanly and pleasant."
+
+"Good-looking scoundrels always are, my dear.  But he don't want you.  I
+watched him.  Going to throw over the Scotchman and take to Miss Louie?"
+
+"Uncle, you've got a bite," said the girl coolly.
+
+"Eh?  So I have.  Got him, too," said the old man, striking and playing
+his fish just as if he were angling in fresh water.  "Thumper."
+
+"What pleasure can it give you to say such unpleasant things, uncle?"
+continued the girl.
+
+"Truths always are unpleasant," said the old man, laughing.  "Don't
+bother me, there's a shoal off the point now, and I shall get some
+fish."
+
+"Why, you have all you want now, uncle."
+
+"Rubbish!  Shall get a few shillings' worth to sell Mother Perrow."
+
+"Poor Uncle Luke!" said the girl with mock solemnity; "obliged to fish
+for his living."
+
+"Better than idling and doing nothing.  I like to do it, and--There he
+is again.  Don't talk."
+
+He hooked and landed another fine bass from the shoal which had come up
+with the tide that ran like a millstream off the point, when as he
+placed the fish in the basket he raised his eyes.
+
+"Yah!  Go back and look after your men.  I thought that would be it.
+Maddy, look at her cheeks."
+
+"Oh, uncle, if I did not know you to be the best and dearest of--"
+
+"Tchah!  Carney!" he cried, screwing up his face.  "Look here, I want to
+catch a few fish and make a little money, so if that long Scot is coming
+courting, take him somewhere else.  Be off!"
+
+"If Mr Duncan Leslie is coming to say good-day, uncle, I see no reason
+why he should not say it here," said Louise, calmly enough now, and with
+the slight flush which had suffused her cheeks fading out.
+
+"Good-day!  A great tall sheepish noodle who don't know when he's well
+off," grumbled the fisher, throwing out once more as a tall
+gentlemanly-looking young fellow of about eight-and-twenty stepped
+actively from rock to rock till he had joined the group, raising his
+soft tweed hat to the ladies and shaking hands.
+
+"What a lovely morning!" he said eagerly.  "I saw you come down.  Much
+sport, Mr Vine?" he added, as he held out his hand.
+
+"No," said Uncle Luke, nodding and holding tightly on to his rod.
+"Hands full.  Can't you see?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I see.  One at you now."
+
+"Thankye.  Think I couldn't see?" said the old man, striking and missing
+his fish.  "Very kind of you to come and see how I was getting on."
+
+"But I didn't," said the new-comer, smiling.  "I knew you didn't want
+me."
+
+"Here, Louie, make a note of that," said Uncle Luke, sharply.  "The
+Scotch are not so dense as they pretend they are."
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+"Oh, pray don't interpose, Miss Vine.  Your uncle and I often have a
+passage of arms together."
+
+"Well, say what you've got to say, and then go back to your men.  Has
+the vein failed?"
+
+"No, sir; it grows richer every day."
+
+"Sorry for it.  I suppose you'll be burrowing under my cottage and
+burying me one of these days before my time?"
+
+"Don't be alarmed, sir."
+
+"I'm not," growled Uncle Luke.
+
+"Uncle is cross, because he is catching more fish than he wants this
+morning," said Louise quietly.
+
+"Hear that, Maddy, my dear?" said the old man, sharply.  "Here's a
+problem for you:--If my niece's tongue is as keen-edged as that before
+she is twenty, what will it be at forty?"
+
+The girl addressed laughed and shook her head.
+
+"Any one would think it would be a warning to any sensible man to keep
+his distance."
+
+"Uncle!  Pray!" whispered the niece, looking troubled; but the old man
+only chuckled and hooked another fish.
+
+"Going to make a fortune out of the old mine, Leslie!" he said.
+
+"Fortune?  No, sir.  A fair income, I hope."
+
+"Which with prudence and economy--Scottish prudence and economy"--he
+added, meaningly, "would keep you when you got to be an old man like me.
+Bah!"
+
+He snatched out his line and gave an impatient stamp with his foot.
+"What is the matter, uncle?"
+
+"What's the matter?  It was bad enough before.  Look there!"
+
+Volume 1, Chapter II.
+
+ELEMENTS OF A WHOLE.
+
+Madelaine Van Heldre had seen the object of Uncle Luke's vexation before
+he called attention to it; and at the first glance her eyes had lit up
+with pleasure, but only to give place to an anxious, troubled look, and
+faint lines came across her brow.
+
+"Why, it is only Harry with his friend," said Louise quietly.
+
+"Yes: flopping and splashing about in the boat.  There will not be a
+fish left when they've done."
+
+"I'll tell them to land at the lower stairs," said Louise eagerly.
+
+"No; let 'em come and do their worst," said the old man, with quite a
+snarl.  "Why doesn't Harry row, instead of letting that miserable
+cockney fool about with an oar?"
+
+"Miserable cockney!" said Duncan Leslie to himself; and his face, which
+had been overcast, brightened a little as he scanned the boat coming
+from the harbour.
+
+"Mr Pradelle likes exercise," said Louise quietly.
+
+Duncan's face grew dull again.
+
+"Then I wish he would take it in London," said the old man, "jumping
+over his desk or using his pen, and not come here."
+
+The water glistened and sparkled with the vigorous strokes given by the
+two young men who propelled the boat, and quickly after there was a
+grating noise as the bows ground against the rocks of the point and a
+young man in white flannels leaped ashore, while his companion after
+awkwardly laying in his oar followed the example, balancing himself as
+he stepped on to the gunwale, and then, after the fashion of a timid
+horse at a gutter, making a tremendous bound on to the rocks.
+
+As he did this his companion made a quick leap back into the bows to
+seize the chain, when he had to put out an oar once more and paddle
+close up to the rock, the boat having been sent adrift by the force of
+the other's leap.
+
+"What a fellow you are, Pradelle!" he said, as he jumped on to a rock,
+and twisted the chain about a block.
+
+"Very sorry, dear boy.  Didn't think of that."
+
+"No," said the first sourly, "you didn't."
+
+He was a well-knit manly fellow, singularly like his sister, while his
+companion, whom he had addressed as Pradelle, seemed to be his very
+opposite in every way, though on the whole better looking; in fact, his
+features were remarkably handsome, or would have been had they not been
+marred by his eyes, which were set close together, and gave him a shifty
+look.
+
+"How are you, uncle?  How do, Leslie!" said Harry, as he stood twirling
+a gold locket at the end of his chain, to receive a grunt from the
+fisherman, and a friendly nod from the young mine-owner.  "So here you
+are then," he continued; "we've been looking for you everywhere.  You
+said you were going along the west walk."
+
+"Yes, but we saw uncle fishing, and came down to him."
+
+"Well, come along now."
+
+"Come?  Where?"
+
+"Come where?  Why for a sail.  Wind's just right.  Jump in."
+
+Duncan Leslie looked grave, but he brightened a little as he heard what
+followed.
+
+"Oh, no, Harry."
+
+As she spoke, Louise Vine glanced at her companion, in whose face she
+read an eager look of acquiescence in the proposed trip, which changed
+instantly to one of agreement with her negative.
+
+"There, Vic.  Told you so.  Taken all our trouble for nothing."
+
+"But, Harry--"
+
+"Oh, all right," he cried, interrupting her, in an ill-used tone.  "Just
+like girls.  Here's our last day before we go back to the confounded
+grindstone.  We've got the boat, the weather's lovely; we've been
+looking for you everywhere, and it's `Oh no, Harry!'  And Madelaine
+looking as if it would be too shocking to go for a sail."
+
+"We don't like to disappoint you," said Madelaine, "but--"
+
+"But you'd rather stay ashore," said the young man shortly.  "Never
+mind, Vic, old chap, we'll go alone, and have a good smoke.  Cheerful,
+isn't it?  I say, Uncle Luke, you're quite right."
+
+"First time you ever thought so then," said the old man shortly.
+
+"Perhaps Miss Vine will reconsider her determination," said the young
+man's companion, in a low soft voice, as he went toward Louise, and
+seemed to Duncan Leslie to be throwing all the persuasion possible into
+his manner.
+
+"Oh no, thank you, Mr Pradelle," she replied hastily, and Duncan Leslie
+once more felt relieved and yet pained, for there was a peculiar
+consciousness in her manner.
+
+"We had brought some cans with us and a hammer and chisel," continued
+Pradelle.  "Harry thought we might go as far as the gorns."
+
+"Zorns, man," cried Harry.
+
+"I beg pardon, zorns, and get a few specimens for Mr Vine."
+
+"It was very kind and thoughtful of Harry," said Louise hastily, "and we
+are sorry to disappoint him--on this his last day--but--"
+
+"Blessed _but_!" said Harry, with a sneer; and he gave Madelaine a
+withering look, which made her bite her lip.
+
+"And the fish swarming round the point," said Uncle Luke impatiently.
+"Why don't you go with them, girls?"
+
+"Right again, uncle," said Harry.
+
+The old man made him a mocking bow.
+
+"Go, uncle?" said Louise eagerly, and then checking herself.
+
+Duncan Leslie's heart sank like an ingot of his own copper dropped in a
+tub.
+
+"Yes, go."
+
+"If you think so, uncle--"
+
+"Well, I do," he said testily, "only pray go at once."
+
+"There!" cried Harry.  "Come, Maddy."
+
+He held out his hand to his sister's companion, but she hesitated, still
+looking at Louise, whose colour was going and coming as she saw Pradelle
+take off his cap and follow his friend's example, holding out his hand
+to help her into the boat.
+
+"Yes, dear," she said to Madelaine gravely.  "They would be terribly
+disappointed if we did not go."
+
+The next moment Madelaine was in the boat, Louise still hanging back
+till, feeling that it would be a slight worse than the refusal to go if
+she ignored the help extended to her, she laid her hand in Pradelle's,
+and stepped off the rock into the gently rising and falling boat.
+
+"Another of my mistakes," said Duncan Leslie to himself; and then he
+started as if some one had given him an electric shock.
+
+"Hullo!" cried the old man.  "You're going too?"
+
+"I? going?"
+
+"Yes, of course!  To take care of them.  I'm not going to have them set
+off without some one to act as ballast to those boys."
+
+Louise mentally cast her arms round the old man's neck and kissed him.
+
+Harry, in the same manner, kicked his uncle into the sea, and Pradelle's
+eyes looked closer together than usual, as he turned them upon the young
+mine-owner.
+
+"I should only be too happy," said the latter, "if--"
+
+"Oh, there's plenty of room, Mr Leslie," cried the girls in duet.
+"Pray come."
+
+The invitation was so genuine that Leslie's heart seemed to leap.
+
+"Oh yes, plenty of room," said Harry, "only if the wind drops, you'll
+have to pull an oar."
+
+"Of course," said Leslie, stepping in.
+
+Harry raised the boat-hook, and thrust the little vessel away, and then
+began to step the mast.
+
+"Lay hold of the rudder, Leslie," he cried.  "Send us up some fish for
+tea, uncle."
+
+"I'll wait and see first whether you come back," said the old man.
+"Good-bye, girls.  Don't be uneasy.  I'll go and tell the old people if
+you're drowned."
+
+"Thank you," shouted back the young man as he hoisted the little sail,
+which began to fill at once, and by the time he had it sheeted home, the
+boat was swiftly running eastward with the water pattering against her
+bows, and a panorama of surpassing beauty seeming to glide slowly by
+them on the left.
+
+"There!" cried Harry to his friend, who had seated himself rather
+sulkily forward, the order to take the tiller having placed Leslie
+between Louise and Madelaine.  "Make much of it, Vic: Paddington
+to-morrow night, hansom cab or the Underground, and next morning the
+office.  Don't you feel happy?"
+
+"Yes, now," said Pradelle, with a glance at Louise.
+
+"Easy, Leslie, easy," cried Harry; "where are you going?"
+
+"I beg pardon," said the young man hastily, for he had unwittingly
+changed the course of the boat.
+
+"That's better.  Any one would think you wanted to give Uncle Luke the
+job he talked about."
+
+Madelaine looked up hastily.
+
+"No: we will not do that, Miss Van Heldre," said Leslie smiling.  "Shall
+I hold the sheet, Vine?"
+
+"No need," said the young man, making the rope fast.  "But--"
+
+"Oh, all right.  I know what you're going to say--puff of wind might lay
+us over as we pass one of the combes.  Wasn't born here for nothing."
+
+Leslie said no more, but deferred to the opinion of the captain of the
+boat.
+
+"Might as well have brought a line to trail.  You'd have liked to fish,
+wouldn't you, Vic?"
+
+"Only when we are alone," said Pradelle.  "Can you tell me the name of
+that point, Miss Vine?"
+
+"Brea," said Louise quietly.
+
+"And that little valley?"
+
+"Tol Du.  The old Cornish names must sound strange to any one from
+London."
+
+"Oh no," he said, bending forward to engage her in conversation.  "This
+place is very interesting, and I shall regret going," he added with a
+sigh, and a thoughtful look toward the picturesque little group of
+houses on either side of the estuary.
+
+"I should think you will," said Harry.  "Never mind, we've had a very
+jolly time.  I say, Maddy," he whispered, "you will write to a fellow,
+won't you?"
+
+"No," she said quietly; "there is no need."
+
+"No need?"
+
+"Louie will be writing to you every week, and you will answer her.  I
+shall hear how you are getting on."
+
+Harry whistled and looked angrily at his sister, who was replying to
+some remark made by Leslie.
+
+"Here, Vic," he said, "she's too heavy forward.  Come and sit by my
+sister.  That's better.  A little more over to the side, Leslie.  Always
+trim your boat."
+
+The changes were made, and the little yawl sped rapidly on past the
+headland of grey granite hoary and shaggy with moss; past black frowning
+masses of slaty shale, over and amongst which the waves broke in
+sparkling foam, and on and on by ferny hollows and rifts, down which
+trickled tiny streams.  The day was glorious, and the reflection of the
+sapphire sky dyed the sea tint of a blue that seemed amethystine in its
+richer transparent hue.  The grey gulls floated overhead, and the tiny
+fish they pursued made the sea flash as they played about and showed
+their silvery sides.
+
+But the conversation flagged.  Possibly the fact of its being the last
+day of a pleasant sojourn acted upon the spirits of two of the party,
+while the third of the male occupants of the boat rather welcomed the
+restraint and silence, for it gave him an opportunity to sit and think
+and wonder what was to be his future, and what the animated countenance
+of Louise Vine meant as she answered the questions of her brother's
+friend.
+
+He was a visitor as well as her brother's companion; he had been staying
+at Mr Vine's for a fortnight.  They had had endless opportunities for
+conversation, and--in short, Duncan Leslie felt uncomfortable.
+
+It was then with a feeling of relief that was shared by both the ladies,
+that after a few miles run Henry Vine stood up in the bows, and, keeping
+a sharp look out for certain rocks, shouted his orders to Leslie as to
+the steering of the boat, and finally, as they neared the frowning
+cliffs, suddenly lowered the sail and took up the oars.
+
+They were abreast of a large cave, where the swift grey-winged pigeons
+flew in and out over the swelling waves, which seemed to glide slowly on
+and on, to rush rapidly after the birds and disappear in the gloom
+beneath the arch.  Then there was a low echoing boom as the wave struck
+far away in the cave, and came back hissing and whispering to be merged
+in the next.
+
+"Going to row close in?" said Leslie, scanning the weird, forbidding
+place rather anxiously.
+
+"Going to row right in," said Harry, with a contemptuous smile.  "Not
+afraid, are you?"
+
+"Can't say," replied Leslie.  "A little perhaps.  The place does not
+look tempting.  Do you think it is safe to go in?"
+
+"Like to land on the rock till we come back?" said Harry, instead of
+answering the question.
+
+"No," said Leslie quietly; "but do you think it wise to row in there?"
+
+"You're not afraid, are you, girls?"
+
+"I always feel nervous till we are outside again," said Louise quietly.
+
+"But you will be very careful, Harry," said Madelaine.
+
+"Think I want to drown myself?" he said bitterly.  "I might just as
+well, p'raps, as go back to that dismal office in London, to slave from
+morning till night."
+
+He rested upon his oars for a minute or two, and perhaps from the
+reflection of the masses of ferns which fringed the arch of the cavern,
+and which were repeated in the clear waters, Victor Pradelle's face
+seemed to turn of a sickly green, while one hand grasped the edge of the
+boat with spasmodic force.
+
+"Now then, hold tight," said the rower, as a swell came from seaward,
+running right in and raising the boat so that by skilful management she
+was borne forward right beneath the arch and then away into the depths
+of the cavern, leaving her rocking upon the watery floor, while it sped
+on away into the darkness, where it broke with a booming noise which
+echoed, and whispered, and died away in sobs, and sighs, and strange
+hisses and gasps, as if the creatures which made the cavern their lair
+had been disturbed, and were settling down again to sleep.
+
+"There, Vic," cried Harry, "what do you think of this?"
+
+Pradelle was holding tightly by the side of the boat, and gazing
+uneasily round.
+
+"Think?  Yes: very wild and wonderful," he said huskily.
+
+"Wonderful?  I should think it is.  Goes in ever so far, only it isn't
+wide enough for the boat."
+
+Leslie looked back at the mouth, fringed with the fronds of ferns, and
+at the lovely picture it framed of sunny amethystine sea; then at the
+rocky sides, dripping with moisture, and here of a rich metallic green,
+there covered with glistening weeds of various shades of olive-green and
+brown.
+
+"Ahoy-oy!" shouted Harry with all his might, and at the same moment he
+let his oars splash in the water.
+
+Pradelle leaped to his feet as there came a strange echo and a whirring
+rush, and a dozen pigeons swept past their heads from out of the depths
+of the water cave, and away into the brilliant sunshine.
+
+"Oh, if I had a gun," cried Pradelle, to hide his confusion.
+
+"What for--to make a miss?" sneered Harry.  "Now then, out with those
+cans.  Fill every one, and I'll try and knock off a few anemones for the
+governor."
+
+As he spoke he laid in his oars, picked a hammer and chisel from out of
+the locker in the forepart of the boat, and then worked it along by the
+side of the great cave, as from out of the clefts and crannies above and
+beneath the water he searched for the semi-gelatinous sea-anemones that
+clustered among barnacles, and the snail-like whorl molluscs whose home
+was on the weedy rocks.
+
+The girls aided all they could, pointing out and receiving in the tins a
+many-rayed creature, which closed up till it resembled a gout of blood;
+now still adhering to the rock which Harry chipped off, a beautiful
+_Actinia_ of olive-green with gem-like spots around the mouth and amid
+its fringe, of turquoise blue.
+
+Duncan Leslie eagerly lent his help; and, not to be behindhand, Pradelle
+took up the boat-hook and held on, but with the smoothness and care of a
+sleek tom-cat, he carefully avoided wetting his hands.
+
+"Nothing very new here," said Harry at last, as the waves that kept
+coming in made the boat rise and fall gently; "there's another better
+cave than this close by.  Let's go there; or what do you say to stopping
+here and having a smoke till the tide has risen and shut us in?"
+
+"Is there any risk of that?" said Pradelle anxiously.
+
+"Oh, yes, plenty."
+
+Leslie glanced at Louisa and thought that it would be very pleasant to
+play protector all through the darkness till the way was open and
+daylight shone again.  He caught her eyes more than once and tried to
+read them as he wondered whether there was hope for him; but so surely
+as she found him gazing rather wistfully at her, she hurriedly continued
+the collecting, pointing out one of the beautiful objects they sought
+beneath the surface, and asking Pradelle to shift the boat a little
+farther along.
+
+"All my vanity and conceit," said Leslie to himself with a sigh; "and
+why should I worry myself about a woman?  I have plenty to do without
+thinking of love and marriage.  If I did, why not begin to dream about
+pleasant, straightforward Madelaine Van Heldre?  There can be nothing
+more than a friendly feeling towards Master Harry here."
+
+"Now then, sit fast," cried the latter object of his thoughts; "and if
+we are capsized, girls, I'll look after you, Maddy.  Pradelle here will
+swim out with Louie, and I shall leave you to bring out the boat,
+Leslie.  You can swim, can't you?"
+
+"A little," said the young man dryly.
+
+Pradelle looked rather more green, for the light within the cave was of
+a peculiar hue, and he began to think uneasily of bathing out of a
+machine at Margate, holding on to a rope, and also of the effort he once
+made to swim across a tepid bath in town.  But he laughed heartily
+directly after as he realised that it was all banter on his friend's
+part, while, in spite of himself, he gave a sigh of relief as, riding
+out on the crest of a broken wave, they once more floated in the
+sunshine.
+
+Ten minutes' careful rowing among the rocks, which were now four or five
+feet beneath the water, now showing their weedy crests above, brought
+them to the mouth of another cave, only approachable from the sea, and
+sending the boat in here, the collection went on till it was deemed
+useless to take more specimens, when they passed out again, greatly to
+Pradelle's satisfaction.
+
+"How's time?" said Harry.  "Half-past four?  Plenty of time.  High tea
+at six.  What shall we do--sail right out and tack, or row along here in
+the smooth water among the rocks?"
+
+"Row slowly back," said Louise; and Pradelle took an oar.
+
+At the end of half a mile he ceased rowing.
+
+"Tired?" said Harry.
+
+"No; I have a blister on my hand; that's all."
+
+"Come and pull, Leslie," said Harry.  "You'd better steer, Louie, and
+don't send us on to a rock."
+
+The exchange of places was made, and once more they began to progress
+with the boat, travelling far more swiftly as they glided on close in to
+the mighty cliff which rose up overhead, dappled with mossy grey and
+patches of verdure, dotted with yellow and purple blooms.
+
+"To go on like this for ever!" thought Leslie as he swung to and fro,
+his strong muscles making the water foam as he dipped his oar, watching
+Louise as she steered, and seemed troubled and ready to converse with
+Pradelle whenever she caught his eye.
+
+"Starn all!" shouted Harry suddenly, as about three miles from home they
+came abreast of a narrow opening close to the surface of the water.
+
+The way of the boat was checked, and Harry looked at the hole into which
+the tide ran and ebbed as the swell rose and fell, now nearly covering
+the opening, now leaving it three or four feet wide.
+
+"Bound to say there are plenty of good specimens in there," he said.
+"What do you say, Vic, shall we go in?"
+
+"Impossible."
+
+"Not it.  Bound to say that's the opening to quite a large zorn.  I've
+seen the seals go in there often."
+
+"Has it ever been explored?" said Leslie, who felt interested in the
+place.
+
+"No; it's nearly always covered.  It's only at low tides like this that
+the opening is bared.  If the girls were not here I'd go in."
+
+"How?" said Pradelle.
+
+"How?--why swim in."
+
+"And be shut up by the tide and drowned," said Louise.
+
+"Good thing too," said Harry, with the same look of a spoiled boy at
+Madelaine.  "I don't find life go very jolly.  Boat wouldn't pass in
+there."
+
+He had risen from his seat and was standing with one foot on the
+gunwale, the other on the thwart, gazing curiously at the dark orifice
+some forty yards away, the boat rising and falling as it swayed here and
+there on the waves, which ran up to the face of the cliff and back, when
+just as the attention of all was fixed upon the little opening, from
+which came curious hissing and rushing noises, the boat rose on a
+good-sized swell, and as it sank was left upon the top of a weedy rock
+which seemed to rise like the shaggy head of a huge sea monster beneath
+the keel.
+
+There was a bump, a grinding, grating noise, a shout and a heavy splash,
+and the boat, after narrowly escaping being capsized, floated once more
+in deep water; but Harry had lost his balance, gone overboard, and
+disappeared.
+
+Madelaine uttered a cry of horror, and then for a few moments there was
+a dead silence, during which Louise sat with blanched face, parted lips,
+and dilated eyes, gazing at the spot where her brother had disappeared.
+Pradelle held on by the side of the boat, and Leslie sprang up, rapidly
+stripped off coat and vest, and stood ready to plunge in.
+
+Those moments seemed indefinitely prolonged, and a terrible feeling of
+despair began to attack the occupants of the boat as thought after
+thought, each of the blackest type, flashed through their brains.  He
+had been sucked down by the undertow, and was being carried out to sea--
+he was entangled in the slimy sea wrack, and could not rise again--he
+had struck his head against the rocks, stunned himself, and gone down
+like a stone, and so on.
+
+Duncan Leslie darted one glance at the pale and suffering face of the
+sister, placed a foot on the gunwale, and was in the act of gathering
+himself up to spring from the boat, when Harry's head rose thirty yards
+away.
+
+"Ahoy!" he shouted, as he began to paddle and tread water.  "Hallo,
+Leslie, ready for a bathe?  Come out!  Water's beautiful.  Swim you back
+to the harbour."
+
+There was a long-drawn breath in the boat which sounded like a groan, as
+the terrible mental pressure was removed, and the young man began to
+swim easily and slowly towards his friends.
+
+"Mind she doesn't get on another rock, Leslie," he cried.
+
+"Here, catch hold of this," cried Pradelle, whose face was ashy, and he
+held out the boat-hook as far as he could reach.
+
+"Thank ye," said Harry mockingly, and twenty yards away.  "Little
+farther, please.  What a lovely day for a swim!"
+
+"Harry, pray come into the boat," cried Louise excitedly.
+
+"What for?  Mind the porpoise."
+
+He gave a few sharp blows on the water with his hands, raising himself
+up and turning right over, dived, his legs just appearing above the
+surface, and then there was an eddy where he had gone down.
+
+"Don't be frightened," whispered Madelaine, whose voice sounded a little
+husky.
+
+"Here we are again!" cried Harry, reappearing close to the boat and
+spluttering the water from his lips, as with all the gaiety of a boy he
+looked mirthfully at the occupants of the boat.  "Any orders for pearls,
+ladies?"
+
+"Don't be foolish, Harry," cried Louise, as he swam close to them.
+
+"Not going to be.  I say, Leslie, take the boat-hook away from that
+fellow, or he'll be making a hole in the bottom of the boat."
+
+As he spoke, he laid a hand upon the gunwale and looked merrily from one
+to the other.
+
+"Don't touch me, girls.  I'm rather damp," he said.  "I say, what a
+capital bathing dress flannels make!"
+
+"Shall I help you in?" said Leslie.
+
+"No, thank ye, I'm all right.  As I am in, I may as well have a swim."
+
+"No, no, Harry, don't be foolish," cried Louise.
+
+"There, you'd better hitch a rope round me, and tow me behind, or I
+shall swamp the boat."
+
+"Harry! what are you going to do?" cried Madelaine, as he looked his
+hold of the gunwale, and began to swim away.
+
+"Wait a bit and you'll see," he cried.  "Leslie, you take care of the
+boat.  I shan't be long."
+
+"But, Harry--"
+
+"All right, I tell you."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"In here," he shouted back, and he swam straight to the low opening at
+the foot of the massive granite cliff, paddled a little at the mouth
+till the efflux of water was over, and then as a fresh wave came, he
+took a few strokes, gave a shout, and to the horror of the two girls
+seemed to be sucked right into the opening.
+
+As he disappeared, he gave another shout, a hollow strange echoing
+"Good-bye," and a few moments after there was a run back of the water
+and a hollow roar, and it needed very little exercise of the imagination
+to picture the rugged opening as the mouth of some marine monster into
+which the young man had passed.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter III.
+
+DISCORDS.
+
+"Don't be alarmed," said Leslie quietly; "I dare say it is like one of
+the zorns yonder, only the mouth is too narrow for a boat."
+
+"But it is so foolish," said Louise, giving him a grateful look.
+
+"Yes, but he swims so easily and well, there is nothing to mind.  What
+are you going to do, Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"Work the boat close up so as to help him," said Pradelle shortly.
+
+"No, don't do that.  We have had one escape from a capsize.  We must
+keep out here in deep water."
+
+Pradelle frowned.
+
+"I think I know what I'm about, sir," he said sharply; "do you suppose I
+am going to sit here when my friend may be in danger?"
+
+"I have no doubt you know what you are about in London, sir," said
+Leslie quietly, "but this is not a pavement in the Strand, and it is not
+safe to take the boat closer."
+
+Pradelle was about to make some retort, but Louise interposed.
+
+"Try if you can get nearer the mouth of that dreadful place, Mr
+Leslie," she said, "I am getting terribly alarmed."
+
+Leslie seated himself, took the oars, turned the boat, and backed slowly
+and cautiously in, holding himself ready to pull out again at the
+slightest appearance of danger.  For the sea rushed against the rocky
+barrier with tremendous force, while even on this calm day the swing and
+wash and eddy amongst the loose rocks was formidable.
+
+By skilful management Leslie backed the boat to within some thirty feet
+of the opening; but the position was so perilous that he had to pull out
+for a few yards to avoid a couple of rocks, which in the movement of the
+clear water seemed to be rising toward them from time to time, and
+coming perilously near.
+
+Then he shouted, but there was no answer.  He shouted again and again,
+but there was no reply, and a chill of horror, intensifying from moment
+to moment, came upon all.
+
+"Harry!  Harry!" cried Louise, now raising her voice, as Madelaine crept
+closer to her and clutched her hand.
+
+But there was no reply.  No sound but the rush and splash and hiss of
+the waters as they struck the rocks, and came back broken from the
+attack.
+
+"What folly!" muttered Leslie, with his face growing rugged.  Then
+quickly, "I don't think you need feel alarmed; I dare say he has swum in
+for some distance, and our voices do not reach him.  Stop a moment."
+
+He suddenly remembered a little gold dog-whistle at his watch-chain, and
+raising it to his lips he blew long and shrilly, till the ear-piercing
+note echoed along the cliff, and the gulls came floating lazily overhead
+and peering wonderingly down.
+
+"I say, Harry, old man, come out now," cried Pradelle, and then rising
+from his seat, he placed his hands on either side of his lips, and
+uttered the best imitation he could manage of the Australian call,
+"Coo-ey!  Coo-ey!"
+
+There were echoes and whispers, and the rush and hiss of the water.
+Then two or three times over there came from out of the opening a
+peculiar dull hollow sound, such as might be made by some great animal
+wallowing far within.
+
+"Mr Leslie," said Louise, in a low appealing voice, "what shall we do?"
+
+"Oh, wait a few minutes, my dear Miss Vine," interposed Pradelle,
+hastily.  "He'll be out directly.  I assure you there is no cause for
+alarm."
+
+Leslie frowned, but his face coloured directly, for his heart gave a
+great throb.
+
+Louise paid not the slightest heed to Pradelle's words, and kept her
+limpid eyes fixed appealingly upon Leslie's, as if she looked to him for
+help.
+
+"I hardly know what to do," he said in a low business-like tone.  "I
+dare not leave you without some one to manage the boat, or I would go
+in."
+
+"Yes, yes, pray go!" she said excitedly.  "Never mind us."
+
+"We could each take an oar and keep the boat here," said Madelaine
+quickly; "we can both row."
+
+"No, really; I'll manage the boat," said Pradelle.
+
+"I think you had better leave it to the ladies, Mr Pradelle," said
+Leslie coldly.  "They know the coast."
+
+"Well really, sir, I--"
+
+"This is no time for interference," cried Madelaine, with a flush of
+excitement, and she caught hold of an oar.  "Louie dear, quick!"
+
+The other oar was resigned, and as Leslie passed aft, he gave Louise one
+quick look, reading in her face, as he believed, trust and thankfulness
+and then dread.
+
+"No, no, Mr Leslie, I hardly dare let you go," she faltered.
+
+_Plash_!
+
+The boat was rolling and dancing on the surface, relieved of another
+burden, and Duncan Leslie was swimming toward the opening.
+
+The two girls dipped their oars from time to time, for their sea-side
+life had given them plenty of experience of the management of a boat;
+and as Pradelle sat looking sulky and ill-used, they watched the swimmer
+as he too timed his movements, so that he gradually approached, and then
+in turn was sucked right into the weird water-way, which might lead
+another into some terrible chasm from which there was no return.
+
+A low hoarse sigh, as if one had whispered while suffering pain the word
+"Hah!" and then with dilated eyes the two girls sat watching the black
+opening for what seemed a terrible interval of time, before, to their
+intense relief, there came a shout of laughter, followed by the
+appearance of Leslie, who swam out looking stern, and closely followed
+by Harry.
+
+"It is not the sort of fun I can appreciate, Miss Vine," said Leslie,
+turning as he reached the stern of the boat.
+
+"Well, I know that," cried Harry mockingly.  "Scotchmen never can
+appreciate a joke."
+
+"There, ladies, what did I tell you?" cried Pradelle triumphantly.
+
+There was no reply, and the visitor from London winced, for his presence
+in the boat seemed to be thoroughly _de trop_.
+
+"Miss Vine--Miss Van Heldre," said Leslie quietly, "will you change
+places now?  Get right aft, and we will climb in over the bows."
+
+"But the boat?" faltered Louise, whose emotion was so great that she
+could hardly trust herself to speak.
+
+"We'll see to that," said Leslie.  "Your brother and I will row back."
+
+It did not seem to trouble him now that the two girls took their places,
+one on either side of Pradelle, while as soon as they were seated he
+climbed in streaming with water, seating himself on the gunwale, Harry
+climbing in on the other side.
+
+"Harry, how could you?" cried Louise, now, with an indignant look.
+
+"Easily enough," he said, seating himself calmly.  "Thought you'd lost
+me?"
+
+He looked at Madelaine as he spoke, but she turned her face away, biting
+her lips, and it was Louise who replied,
+
+"I did not think you could have been so cruel."
+
+"Cruel be hanged!" he retorted.  "Thought I'd find out whether I was of
+any consequence after all.  You people seem to say I'm of none.  Did
+they begin to cry, Vic?"
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to tell tales," said Pradelle with a smile.
+
+"I should have had a pipe in there, only my matches had got wet."
+
+"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Pradelle, and the mirth sounded strange there
+beneath the rocks, and a very decided hiss seemed to come from out of
+the low rugged opening.
+
+"Try again, Vic," said Harry mockingly; but his friend made no reply,
+for he was staring hard and defiantly at Leslie, who, as he handled his
+oar, gave him a calmly contemptuous look that galled him to the quick.
+
+"Ready, Leslie?" said Harry.  "Yes."
+
+The oars dipped, Leslie pulling stroke, and the boat shot out from its
+dangerous position among the rocks, rose at a good-sized swelling wave,
+topped it, seemed to hang as in a balance for a moment, and then glided
+down and went forward in response to a few vigorous strokes.
+
+"Never mind the tiller, Vic," said Harry; "let it swing.  We can manage
+without that.  All right, girls?"
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"Sulky, eh?  Well, I'd a good mind to stop in.  Sorry you got so wet,
+Leslie."  Still no reply.
+
+"Cheerful party, 'pon my word!" said Harry with a contemptuous laugh.
+"Hope no one objects to my smoking."
+
+He looked hard at Madelaine, but she avoided his gaze, and he uttered a
+short laugh.
+
+"Got a cigar to spare, Vic?"
+
+"Yes, clear boy, certainly."
+
+"Pass it along then, and the lights.  Hold hard a minute, Leslie."
+
+The latter ceased rowing as Pradelle handed a cigar and the matches to
+his friend.
+
+"Will you take one, Mr Leslie?" said Pradelle.
+
+"Thanks, no," said Leslie quietly, and to the would-be donor's great
+relief, for he had only two left.  Then once more the rowing was
+resumed, Pradelle striking a match to light a cigar for himself, and
+then recollecting himself and throwing the match away.
+
+"Well, we're enjoying ourselves!" cried Harry after they had proceeded
+some distance in silence.  "I say, Vic, say something!"
+
+Pradelle had been cudgelling his brains for the past ten minutes, but
+the more he tried to find something _a propos_ the more every pleasant
+subject seemed to recede.
+
+In fact it would have been difficult just then for the most accomplished
+talker to have set all present at their ease, for Harry's folly had
+moved his sister so that she feared to speak lest she should burst into
+a hysterical fit of weeping, and Madelaine, as she sat there with her
+lips compressed, felt imbued with but one desire, which took the form of
+the following words:
+
+"Oh, how I should like to box his ears!"
+
+"Getting dry, Leslie?" said Harry after a long silence.
+
+"Not very," was the reply.
+
+"Ah, well, there's no fear of our catching cold pulling like this."
+
+"Not the slightest," said Leslie coldly; then there was another period
+of silence, during which the water seemed to patter and slap the bows of
+the boat, while the panorama of rock and foam and glittering cascade, as
+the crags were bathed by the Atlantic swell, and it fell back broken,
+seemed perfectly fresh and new as seen from another point of view.
+
+At last Harry, after trying two or three times more to start a
+conversation, said shortly--
+
+"Well, this is my last day at home, and I think I ought to say, `Thank
+goodness!'  This is coming out for a pleasant sail, and having to row
+back like a galley-slave!  Oh, I beg your pardon, ladies!  All my
+mistake.  I am highly complimented.  All this glumminess is because I am
+going away."
+
+He received such a look of reproach that he uttered an angry ejaculation
+and began to pull so hard that Leslie had to second his movement to keep
+the boat's head straight for the harbour, whose farther point soon after
+came in sight, with two figures on the rocks at the end.
+
+"Papa along with Uncle Luke," said Louise softly.
+
+"Eh?" said Harry sharply; "the old man still fishing?"
+
+"Yes," said Louise rather coldly; "and, Maddy, dear, is not that Mr Van
+Heldre?"
+
+Madelaine shaded her eyes from the western, sun, where it was sinking
+fast, and nodded.
+
+"Where shall we land you?" said Harry sulkily now, "at the point, or
+will you go up the harbour?"
+
+"If there is not too much sea on, at the point," said Louise gravely.
+
+"Oh, I dare say we can manage that without wetting your plumes," said
+the young man contemptuously; and after another ten minutes' pulling
+they reached the harbour mouth and made for the point, where Uncle Luke
+stood leaning on his rod watching the coming boat, in company with a
+tall grey man with refined features, who had taken off the straw hat he
+wore to let the breeze play through his closely cut hair, while from
+time to time he turned to speak either to Uncle Luke or to the short
+thick-set man who, with his pointed white moustache and closely clipped
+peaked beard, looked in his loose holland blouse like a French officer
+taking his vacation at the sea-side.
+
+"Mind how you come," said the latter in a sharp, decided way.  "Watch
+your time, Leslie.  Back in, my lad.  Can you manage it, girls?"
+
+"Oh, yes," they cried confidently.
+
+"Sit still then till the boat's close in, then one at a time.  You
+first, my dear."
+
+This to Louise, as he stepped actively down the granite rocks to a
+narrow natural shelf, which was now bare, now several inches deep in
+water.
+
+"If we manage it cleverly we can get you ashore without a wetting."
+
+The warnings were necessary, for the tide ran fast, and the Atlantic
+swell made the boat rise and fall, smooth as the surface was.
+
+"Now then," cried the French-looking gentleman, giving his orders as if
+he were an officer in command, "easy, Harry Vine; back a little, Mr
+Leslie.  Be ready, Louie, my dear.  That's it; a little more.  I have
+you.  Bravo!"
+
+The words came slowly, and with the latter there was a little action; as
+he took the hands outstretched to him, when the boat nearly grazed the
+rock, there was a light spring, the girl was on the narrow shelf, and
+the boat, in answer to a touch of the oars, was half a dozen yards away,
+rising and falling on the swell.
+
+"Give me your hand, my dear," said the tall grey gentleman, leaning
+down.
+
+"Oh, I can manage, papa," she cried, and the next moment she was by his
+side.  Looking back, "Thank you, Mr Van Heldre," she said.
+
+"Eh!  All right, my child.  Now, Maddy.  Steady, my lads.  Mind that
+ledge; don't get her under there.  Bravo! that's right.  Now, my girl.
+Well done!"
+
+Madelaine leaped to his side, and was in turn assisted to the top, she
+accepting the tall gentleman's help, while Uncle Luke, with his hands
+resting on his rod, which he held with the butt on the rock, stood
+grimly looking down at the boat.
+
+"I think I'll land here," said Leslie.  "You don't want my help with the
+boat."
+
+"Oh, no; we can manage," said Harry sourly; and Leslie gave up his oar
+and leaped on to the rock as the boat was again backed in.
+
+"That chap looks quite green," said Uncle Luke with a sneering laugh.
+"Our London friend been poorly, Louie?"
+
+Before she could answer the tall gentleman cried to those in the boat--
+
+"Don't be long, my boy.  Tea will be waiting."
+
+"All right, dad.  Lay hold of this oar, Vic, and let's get her moored."
+
+"Why, you're wet, Mr Leslie," said the tall gentleman, shaking hands.
+
+"Only sea-water, sir.  It's nothing."
+
+"But," said the former speaker, looking quickly from one to the other,
+and his handsome, thoughtful face seemed troubled, "has there been
+anything wrong?"
+
+"Harry fell in," said Louise, speaking rather quickly and excitedly;
+"and Mr Leslie--"
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated the tall gentleman excitedly.
+
+"It was nothing, sir," said Leslie hastily.  "He swam in among the
+rocks--into a cave, and he was a long time gone, and I went after him;
+that's all."
+
+"But, my dear boy, you must make haste and change your things."
+
+"I shall not hurt, Mr Vine."
+
+"And--and--look here.  Make haste and come on then to us.  There will be
+a meal ready.  It's Harry's last day at home."
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mr Vine; I don't think I'll come to-night."
+
+"But you have been one of the party so far, and I should--Louie, my
+dear--"
+
+"We shall be very glad if you will come, Mr Leslie," said Louise, in
+response to her father's hesitating words and look, and there was a
+calm, ingenuous invitation in her words that made the young man's heart
+throb.
+
+"I, too, shall be very glad," he said quietly.
+
+"That's right, that's right," said Mr Vine, laying one of his long thin
+white hands on the young man's arm; and then changing its position, so
+that he could take hold of one of the buttons on his breast.  Then
+turning quickly: "Madelaine's coming, of course."
+
+"Louie says so," said the girl quietly.
+
+"To be sure; that's right, my dear; that's right," said the old man,
+beaming upon her as he took one of her hands to hold and pat it in his.
+"You'll come too, Van?"
+
+"I?  No, no.  I've some bills of lading to look over."
+
+"Yah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke with a snarl.
+
+"Yes; bills of lading, you idle old cynic.  I can't spend my time
+fishing."
+
+"Pity you can't," said Uncle Luke.  "Money, money, always money."
+
+"Hear him, Mr Leslie?" said Van Heldre smiling.  "Are you disposed to
+follow his teachings?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," said Leslie.
+
+"Not he," snarled Uncle Luke.
+
+"But you will come, Van?" said Mr Vine.
+
+"My dear fellow, I wish you would not tempt me.  There's work to do.
+Then there's my wife."
+
+"Bring Mrs Van Heldre too," said Louise, laying her hand on his.
+
+"Ah, you temptress," he cried merrily.
+
+"It's Harry's last evening," said Mr Vine.
+
+"Look here," said Van Heldre, "will you sing me my old favourite if I
+come, Louie?"
+
+"Yes; and you shall have a duet too."
+
+"Ah, never mind the duet," said Van Heldre laughingly; "I can always
+hear Maddy at home.  There, out of pocket again by listening to
+temptation.  I'll come."
+
+"Come and join us too, Luke," said Mr Vine.
+
+"No!" snapped the old fisher.
+
+"Do, uncle," said Louise.
+
+"Shan't," he snarled, stooping to pick up his heavy basket.
+
+"But it's Harry's last--"
+
+"Good job too," snarled the old man.
+
+"I'm going your way, Mr Luke Vine," said Leslie.  "Let me carry the
+basket."
+
+"Thank ye; I'm not above carrying my own fish," said the old man
+sharply; and he raised and gave the basket a swing to get it upon his
+back, but tottered with the weight, and nearly fell on the uneven rocks.
+
+"There, it is too heavy for you," said Leslie, taking possession of the
+basket firmly; and Louise Vine's eyes brightened.
+
+"Be too heavy for you when you get as old as I am," snarled the old man.
+
+"I dare say," said Leslie quietly; and they went off together.
+
+"Luke's in fine form this afternoon," said Van Heldre, nodding and
+smiling.
+
+"Yes," said the brother, looking after him wistfully.  "We shall wait
+till you come, Mr Leslie," he shouted, giving vent to an after-thought.
+
+The young man turned and waved his hand.
+
+"Rather like Leslie," said Van Heldre.  "Maddy, you'll have to set your
+cap at him."
+
+Madelaine looked up at him and laughed.
+
+"Yes, poor Luke!" said Mr Vine thoughtfully, as he stooped and picked
+up a small net and a tin can, containing the treasures he had found in
+sundry rock pools.  "I'm afraid we are a very strange family, Van," he
+added, as they walked back towards the little town.
+
+"Very, old fellow," said his friend, smiling.  "I'll be with you before
+Leslie gets back, wife and the necessary change of dress permitting."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter IV.
+
+A THUNDERBOLT.
+
+George Vine, gentleman, as he was set down in the parish books and the
+West-country directory, lived in a handsome old granite-built residence
+that he had taken years before, when, in obedience to his sister's wish,
+he had retired from the silk trade a wealthy man.  But there he had
+joined issue with the lady in question, obstinately refusing to make
+France his home, and selecting the house above named in the old Cornish
+port for two reasons: one, to be near his old friend Godfrey Van Heldre,
+a well-to-do merchant who carried on rather a mixed business, dealing
+largely in pilchards, which he sent in his own ships to the Italian
+ports, trading in return in such produce of the Levant as oranges,
+olives, and dried fruit; the other, so that he could devote himself to
+the branch of natural history, upon which he had grown to be an
+authority so great that his work upon the Actiniadae of our coast was
+looked forward to with no little expectation by a good many people, in
+addition to those who wrote F.Z.S. at the end of their names.
+
+The pleasant social meal known as high tea was spread in the long low
+oak-panelled dining-room, whose very wide bay window looked right over
+the town from its shelf upon the huge granite cliffs, and far away
+westward from whence came the gales which beat upon the old mansion,
+whose granite sides and gables had turned them off for the past two
+hundred years.
+
+It was a handsomely furnished room, thoroughly English, and yet with a
+suggestion of French in the paintings of courtly-looking folk, which
+decorated the panels above the old oak sideboard and dressers, upon
+which stood handsome old chased cups, flagons and salvers battered and
+scratched, but rich and glistening old silver all the same, and looking
+as if the dents and scratches were only the natural puckers and furrows
+such venerable pieces of plate should possess.
+
+There was another suggestion of the foreign element, too, in the glazing
+of the deeply embayed window, for right across and between all the
+mullions, the leaden lattice panes gave place, about two-thirds of the
+way up, to a series of artistically painted armorial bearings in stained
+glass, shields and helmets with their crests and supporters, and beneath
+the scutcheon in the middle, a ribbon with triple curve and fold bearing
+the words _Roy et Foy_.
+
+The furniture had been selected to be thoroughly in keeping with the
+antiquity of the mansion, and the old oak chairs and so much of the
+table as could be seen for the long fine white linen cloth was of the
+oldest and darkest oak.
+
+The table was spread with the abundant fare dear to West-country folk;
+fruit and flowers gave colour, and the thick yellow cream and white
+sugar were piled high in silver bowls.  The great tea urn was hissing
+upon its stand, the visitors had arrived, and the host was dividing his
+time between fidgeting to and fro from the door to Van Heldre, who was
+leaning up against one of the mullions of the great bay window talking
+to Leslie upon subjects paramount in Cornwall--fish and the yielding of
+the mines.
+
+The young people were standing about talking, Louise with her hand
+resting on the chair where sat a pleasant-looking, rosy little woman
+with abundant white hair, and her mittened hands crossed over the waist
+of her purple velvet gown enriched with good French lace.
+
+"Margaret Vine's keeping us waiting a long time this evening," she said.
+
+"Mamma!" said Madelaine reproachfully.
+
+"Well, my clear, it's the simple truth.  And so you go back to business
+to-morrow, Harry?"
+
+"Yes, Mrs Van Heldre.  Slave again."
+
+"Nonsense, my boy.  Work's good for every one.  I'm sure your friend,
+Mr Pradelle, thinks so," she continued, appealing to that gentleman.
+
+"Well," he said, with an unpleasant laugh, "nobody left me a fortune, so
+I'm obliged to say yes."
+
+"Ah, here she is!" said Mr Vine, with a sigh of relief, as the door
+opened, and with almost theatrical effect a rather little sharp-looking
+woman of about sixty entered, gazing quickly round and pausing just
+within the room to make an extremely formal old-fashioned courtesy--
+sinking nearly to the ground as if she were a telescopic figure
+disappearing into the folds of the stiff rich brocade silk dress, of a
+wonderful pattern of pink and green, and cut in a fashion probably
+popular at Versailles a hundred years ago.  She did not wear powder, but
+her white hair turned up and piled upon her head after the fashion of
+that blooming period, produced the same effect; and as she gave the fan
+she held a twitch which spread it open with a loud rattling noise, she
+seemed, with her haughty carriage, handsome aquiline face with long
+chin, that appeared to have formed the pattern for her stomacher, like
+one of the paintings on the panelled wall suddenly come to life, and
+feeling strange at finding herself among that modern company.
+
+"I hope you have not waited for me," she said, smiling and speaking in a
+high-pitched musical voice.  "Louise, my child, you should not.  Ah!"
+she continued, raising her gold-rimmed eye-glass to her thin arched nose
+and dropping it directly, "Mrs Van Heldre, Mr Van Heldre, pray be
+seated.  Mr Victor Pradelle, will you be so good?"
+
+The young man had gone through the performance several times before, and
+he was in waiting ready to take the tips of the gloved fingers extended
+to him, and walking over the thick Turkey carpet with the lady to the
+other end of the room in a way that seemed to endow him with a court
+suit and a sword, and suggested the probability of the couple continuing
+their deportment walk to the polished oak boards beyond the carpet, and
+then after sundry bows and courtesies going through the steps of the
+_minuet de la cour_.
+
+As a matter of fact, Pradelle led the old girl, as he called her, to the
+seat she occupied at the end of the table, when she condescended to
+leave her room; the rest of the company took their seats, and the meal
+began.
+
+Harry had tried to ensconce himself beside Madelaine, but that young
+lady had made a sign to Duncan Leslie, who eagerly took the chair beside
+her, one which he coveted, for it was between her and Louise, now busy
+with the tea-tray; and in a sulky manner, Harry obeyed the motion of the
+elderly lady's fan.
+
+"That's right, Henri, _mon cher_," she said, smiling, "come and sit by
+me.  I shall miss you so, my darling, when you are gone back to that
+horrible London, and that wretched business."
+
+"Don't, don't, don't, Margaret, my dear," said Mr Vine,
+good-humouredly.  "You will make him unhappy at having to leave home."
+
+"I hope so, George," said the lady with dignity, and pronouncing his
+Christian name with the softness peculiar to the French tongue; "and,"
+she added with a smile, "especially as we have company, will you oblige
+me--Marguerite, if you please?"
+
+"Certainly, certainly, my dear."
+
+"Is that Miss Van Heldre?" said the lady, raising her glass once more.
+"I beg your pardon, my child; I hope you are well."
+
+"Quite well, thank you, Miss Marguerite Vine," said Madelaine quietly,
+and her bright young face looked perfectly calm, though there was a
+touch of sarcasm in her tone.
+
+"Louise, dearest, my tea a little sweeter, please."
+
+The meal progressed, and the stiffness produced by the _entree_ of the
+host's sister--it was her own term for her appearance--soon wore off,
+the lady being very quiet as she discussed the viands placed before her
+with a very excellent appetite.  Mrs Van Heldre prattled pleasantly on,
+with plenty of homely common-sense, to her host.  Van Heldre threw in a
+word now and then, joked Louise and his daughter, and made a wrinkle on
+his broad forehead, which was his way of making a note.
+
+The note he made was that a suspicion which had previously entered his
+brain was correct.
+
+"He's taken with her," he said to himself, as he glanced at Louise and
+then at Duncan Leslie, who seemed to be living in a dream.  As a rule he
+was an energetic, quick, and sensible man; on this occasion he was
+particularly silent, and when he spoke to either Madelaine or Louise, it
+was in a softened voice.
+
+Van Heldre looked at his daughter.  Madelaine looked at her father, and
+they thoroughly read each other's thoughts, the girl's bright grey eyes
+saying to him as plainly as could be--"You are quite right."
+
+"Well," said Van Heldre to himself, as he placed a spoonful of black
+currant jam on his plate, and then over that two piled-up
+table-spoonfuls of clotted cream--"she's as nice and true-hearted a girl
+as ever stepped, and Leslie's a man, every inch of him.  I'd have said
+_yes_ in a moment if he had wanted my girl.  I'm glad of it; but, poor
+fellow, what he'll have to suffer from that terrible old woman!"
+
+He had just thought this, and was busy composing a _nocturne_ or a
+_diurne_--probably the latter from its tints of red and yellow--upon his
+plate, which flowed with jam and cream, when Aunt Marguerite, who had
+eaten all she wished, began to stir her tea with courtly grace, and
+raised her voice in continuation of something she had been saying, but
+it was twenty-four hours before.
+
+"Yes, Mr Pradelle," she said, so that every one should hear; "my
+memories of the past are painful, and yet a delight.  We old Huguenots
+are proud of our past."
+
+"You must be, madam."
+
+"And you too," said the lady.  "I feel sure that if you will take the
+trouble you will find that I am right.  The Pradelles must have been of
+our people."
+
+"I'll look into it as soon as I get back to town," said the young man.
+
+Harry gave him a very vulgar wink.
+
+"Do," said Aunt Marguerite.  "By the way, I don't think I told you that
+though my brother persists in calling himself Vine, our name is Des
+Vignes, and we belong to one of the oldest families in Auvergne."
+
+"Yes, that's right, Mr Pradelle," said the host, nodding pleasantly;
+"but when a cruel persecution drove us over here, and old England held
+out her arms to us, and we found a kindly welcome--"
+
+"My dear George!" interposed Aunt Marguerite.
+
+"Let me finish, my dear," said Mr Vine, good-temperedly.  "It's Mr
+Pradelle's last evening here."
+
+"For the present, George, for the present."
+
+"Ah, yes, of course, for the present, and I should like him to hear my
+version too."
+
+Aunt Marguerite tapped the back of her left hand with her fan
+impatiently.
+
+"We found here a hearty welcome and a home," continued Mr Vine, "and we
+said we can never--we will never--return to the land of fire and the
+sword; and then we, some of us poor, some of us well-to-do, settled down
+among our English brothers, and thanked God that in this new Land of
+Canaan we had found rest."
+
+"And my dear Mr Pradelle," began Aunt Marguerite, hastily; but Mr Vine
+was started, and he talked on.
+
+"In time we determined to be, in spite of our French descent, English of
+the English, for our children's sake, and we worked with them, and
+traded with them; and, to show our faith in them, and to avoid all
+further connection and military service in the country we had left, we
+even anglicised our names.  My people became Vines; the D'Aubigneys,
+Daubney or Dobbs; the Boileaus, Drinkwater; the Guipets, Guppy.
+Vulgarising our names, some people say; but never mind, we found rest,
+prosperity, and peace."
+
+"Quite right, Mr Pradelle," said Van Heldre, "and in spite of my name
+and my Huguenot descent, I say, thank Heaven I am now an Englishman."
+
+"No, no, no, no, Mr Van Heldre," said Aunt Marguerite, throwing herself
+back, and looking at him with a pitying smile.  "You cannot prove your
+Huguenot descent."
+
+"Won't contradict you, ma'am," said Van Heldre.  "Capital jam this,
+Louise."
+
+"You must be of Dutch descent," said Aunt Marguerite.
+
+"I went carefully over my father's pedigree, Miss Marguerite," said
+Madelaine quietly.
+
+"Indeed, my child?" said the lady, raising her brows.
+
+"And I found without doubt that the Venelttes fled during the
+persecutions to Holland, where they stayed for half a century, and
+changed their names to Van Heldre before coming to England."
+
+"Quite right," said Van Heldre in a low voice.  "Capital cream."
+
+"Ah, yes," said Aunt Margaret; "but, my dear child, such papers are
+often deceptive."
+
+"Yes," said Van Heldre, smiling, "often enough: so are traditions and
+many of our beliefs about ancestry; but I hope I have enough of what you
+call the _haute noblesse_ in me to give way, and not attempt to argue
+the point."
+
+"No, Mr Van Heldre," said Aunt Margaret, with a smile of pity and
+good-humoured contempt; "we have often argued together upon this
+question, but I cannot sit in silence and hear you persist in that which
+is not true.  No; you have not any Huguenot blood in your veins."
+
+"My clear madam, I feel at times plethoric enough to wish that the
+old-fashioned idea of being blooded in the spring were still in vogue.
+I have so much Huguenot blood in my veins, that I should be glad to have
+less."
+
+Aunt Margaret shook her head, and tightened her lips.
+
+"Low Dutch," she said to herself, "Low Dutch."
+
+Van Heldre read her thoughts in the movement of her lips.
+
+"Don't much matter," he said.  "Vine, old fellow, think I shall turn
+over a new leaf."
+
+"Eh?  New leaf?"
+
+"Yes; get a good piece of marsh, make a dam to keep out the sea, and
+take to keeping cows.  What capital cream!"
+
+"Yes, Mr Pradelle," continued Aunt Margaret; "we are Huguenots of the
+Huguenots, and it is the dream of my life that Henri should assert his
+right to the title his father repudiates, and become Comte des Vignes."
+
+"Ah!" said Pradelle.
+
+"Vigorous steps have only to be taken to wrest the family estates in
+Auvergne from the usurpers who hold them.  I have long fought for this,
+but so far, I grieve to say, vainly.  My brother here has mistaken
+notions about the respectability of trade, and is content to vegetate."
+
+"Oh, you miserable old vegetable!" said Van Heldre to himself, as he
+gave his friend a droll look, and shook his head.
+
+"To vegetate in this out-of-the-way place when he should be watching
+over the welfare of his country, and as a nobleman of that land,
+striving to stem the tide of democracy.  He will not do it; but if I
+live my nephew Henri shall, as soon as he can be rescued from the
+degrading influence of trade, and the clerk's stool in an office.  Ah,
+my poor boy, I pity you, and I say out boldly that I am not surprised
+that you should have thrown up post after post in disgust, and refused
+to settle down to such sordid wretchedness."
+
+"My dear Marguerite! our visitors."
+
+"I must speak, George.  Mr Van Heldre loves trade."
+
+"I do, ma'am."
+
+"Therefore he cannot feel with me."
+
+"Well, never mind, my dear.  Let some one else be Count des Vignes, only
+let me be in peace, and don't fill poor Harry's head with that stuff
+just before he's leaving home to go up to the great city, where he will,
+I am sure, redeem the follies of the past, and prove himself a true man.
+Harry, my dear boy, we'll respect Aunt Margaret's opinions; but we will
+not follow them out.  Van, old fellow, Leslie, Mr Pradelle, a glass of
+wine.  We'll drink Harry's health.  All filled?  That's right.  Harry,
+my boy, a true honest man is nature's nobleman.  God speed you, my boy;
+and His blessing be upon all your works.  Health and happiness to you,
+my son!"
+
+"Amen," said Van Heldre; and the simple old-fashioned health was drunk.
+
+"Eh, what's that--letters?" said Vine, as a servant entered the room and
+handed her master three.
+
+"For you, Mr Pradelle; for you, Harry, and for me.  May we open them,
+Mrs Van Heldre?  They may be important."
+
+"Of course, Mr Vine, of course."
+
+Pradelle opened his, glanced at it, and thrust it into his pocket.
+
+Harry did likewise.
+
+Mr Vine read his twice, then dropped it upon the table.
+
+"Papa!--father!" cried Louise, starting from her place, and running
+round to him as he stood up with a fierce angry light in his eyes, and
+the table was in confusion.
+
+"Tidings at last of the French estates, Mr Pradelle," whispered Aunt
+Margaret.
+
+"Papa, is anything wrong?  Is it bad news?" cried Louise.
+
+"Wrong!  Bad news!" he cried, flashing up from the quiet student to the
+stern man, stung to the quick by the announcement he had just received.
+"Van Heldre, old friend, you know how I strove among our connections and
+friends to place him where he might work and rise and prove himself my
+son."
+
+"Yes, yes, old fellow, but be calm."
+
+"Father, hush!" whispered Louise, as she glanced at Leslie's sympathetic
+countenance.  "Hush!  Be calm!"
+
+"How can I be calm?" cried the old man fiercely.  "The Des Vignes!  The
+family estates!  The title!  You hear this, Margaret.  Here is a fine
+opportunity for the search to be made--the old castle and the vineyards
+to be rescued from the occupiers."
+
+"George--brother, what do you mean?" cried the old lady indignantly, and
+she laid her hand upon her nephew's shoulder, as he sat gazing straight
+down before him at his plate.
+
+"What do I mean?" cried the indignant father, tossing the letter towards
+her.  "I mean that my son is once more dismissed from his situation in
+disgrace."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter V.
+
+POISON AND ANTIDOTE.
+
+"Now, sir, have the goodness to tell me what you mean to do."
+
+Harry Vine looked at his father, thrust his hands low down into his
+pockets, leaned back against the mantelpiece, and was silent.
+
+Vine senior leaned over a shallow glass jar, with a thin splinter of
+wood in his hand, upon which he had just impaled a small fragment of
+raw, minced periwinkle, and this he thrust down to where a gorgeous
+sea-anemone sat spread open upon a piece of rock--chipped from out of
+one of the caverns on the coast.
+
+The anemone's tentacles bristled all around, giving the creature the
+aspect of a great flower; and down among these the scrap of food was
+thrust till it touched them, when the tentacles began to curve over, and
+draw the scrap of shell-fish down toward the large central mouth, in
+which it soon began to disappear.
+
+Vine senior looked up.
+
+"I have done everything I could for you in the way of education.  I
+have, I am sure, been a most kind and indulgent father.  You have had a
+liberal supply of money, and by the exercise of my own and the personal
+interest of friends, I have obtained for you posts among our people, any
+one of which was the beginning of prosperity and position, such as a
+youth should have been proud to win."
+
+"But they were so unsuitable, father.  All connected with trade."
+
+"Shame, Harry!  As if there was anything undignified in trade.  No
+matter whether it be trade or profession by which a man honestly earns
+his subsistence, it is an honourable career.  And yet five times over
+you have been thrown back on my hands in disgrace."
+
+"Well, I can't help it, father; I've done my best."
+
+"Your best!" cried Vine senior, taking up a glass rod, and stirring the
+water in another glass jar.  "It is not true."
+
+"But it's so absurd.  You're a rich man."
+
+"If I were ten times as well off, I would not have you waste your life
+in idleness.  You are not twenty-four, and I am determined that you
+shall take some post.  I have seen too much of what follows when a
+restless, idle young man sits down to wait for his father's money.
+There, I am busy now.  Go and think over what I have said.  You must and
+shall do something.  It is now a month since I received that letter.
+What is Mr Pradelle doing down here again?"
+
+"Come for a change, as any other gentleman would."
+
+"Gentleman?"
+
+"Well, he has a little income of his own, I suppose.  If I've been
+unlucky that's no reason why I should throw over my friends."
+
+The father looked at the son in a perplexed way, and then fed another
+sea-anemone, Harry looking on contemptuously.
+
+"Well, sir, you have heard what I said.  Go and think it over."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+The young man left the business-like study, and encountered his sister
+in the hall.
+
+"Well, Harry?"
+
+"Well, Lou."
+
+"What does papa say?"
+
+"The old story.  I'm to go back to drudgery.  I think I shall enlist."
+
+"For shame! and you professing to care as you do for Madelaine."
+
+"So I do.  I worship her."
+
+"Then prove it by exerting yourself in the way papa wishes.  I wonder
+you have not more spirit."
+
+"And I wonder you have not more decency towards my friends."
+
+Louise coloured slightly.
+
+"Here you profess to believe in my going into trade and drudging behind
+a counter."
+
+"I did not know that a counter had ever been in question, Harry," said
+his sister sarcastically.
+
+"Well, a clerk's desk; it's all the same.  I believe you would like to
+see me selling tea and sugar."
+
+"I don't think I should mind."
+
+"No; that's it.  I'm to be disgraced while you are so much of the fine
+lady that you look down on, and quite insult, my friend Pradelle."
+
+"Aunt Margaret wishes to speak to you, dear," said Louise gravely.  "I
+promised to tell you as soon as you left the study."
+
+"Then hang it all! why didn't you tell me?  Couldn't resist a chance for
+a lecture.  There's only one body here who understands me, and that's
+aunt.  Why even Madelaine's turning against me now, and I believe it is
+all your doing."
+
+"I have done nothing but what is for your good, Harry."
+
+"Then you own to it!  You have been talking to Maddy?"
+
+"She came and confided in me, and I believe I spoke the truth."
+
+"Yes, I knew it!" cried Harry warmly.  "Then look here, my lady, I'm not
+blind.  I've petted you and been the best of brothers, but if you turn
+against me I shall turn against you."
+
+"Harry dear!"
+
+"Ah, that startles you, does it!  Then I shall tell the truth, and I'll
+back up Aunt Margaret through thick and thin."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"What Aunt Margaret says.  That long Scotch copper-miner is no match for
+you."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"And I shall tell him this, if he comes hanging about here where he sees
+he is not wanted, and stands in the way of a gentleman of good French
+Huguenot descent, I'll horsewhip him.  There!"
+
+He turned on his heel, and bounded up the old staircase three steps at a
+time.
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated Louise, as she stood till she heard a sharp tap at her
+aunt's door and her brother enter, and close it after him.  "Mr
+Pradelle, too, of all people in the world!"
+
+"Ah, my darling," cried Aunt Margaret, looking up from the tambour-frame
+and smoothing out the folds of her antique flowered peignoir.  "Bring
+that stool, and come and sit down."
+
+Harry bent down and kissed her rather sulkily.  Then in a
+half-contemptuous way he fetched the said stool, embroidered by the lady
+herself, and placed it at her feet.
+
+"Sit down, my dear."
+
+Harry lowered himself into a very uncomfortable position, while Aunt
+Margaret placed one arm about his neck, struck a graceful pose, and
+began to smooth over the young man's already too smooth hair.
+
+"I want to have another very serious talk with you, my boy," she said.
+"Ah, yes," she continued, raising his chin and looking down in his
+disgusted face: "how every lineament shows your descent!"
+
+"I say, aunt, I've just brushed my hair."
+
+"Yes, dear, but you should not hide your forehead.  It is the brow of
+the Des Vignes."
+
+"Oh, all right, auntie, have it your own way.  But, I say, have you got
+any money?"
+
+"Alas! no, my boy."
+
+"I don't mean now.  I mean haven't you really got any to leave me in
+your will?"
+
+There was a far-off look in Aunt Margaret's eyes as she slowly shook her
+head.
+
+"You will leave me what you have, aunt?"
+
+"If I had hundreds of thousands, you should have all, Henri; but, alas,
+I have none.  I had property once."
+
+"What became of it?"
+
+"Well, my dear, it is a long story and a sad one.  I could not tell it
+to you even in brief, but you are a man now, and must know the meaning
+of the word love."
+
+"Oh, yes, I know what that means; but I say, don't fidget my hair about
+so."
+
+"I could not tell you all, Henri.  It was thirty years ago.  He was a
+French gentleman of noble descent.  His estates had been confiscated,
+and I was only too glad to place my little fortune at his disposal to
+recover them."
+
+"And did he?"
+
+"No, my dear.  Those were terrible times.  He lost all; and with true
+nobility, he wrote to me that he loved me too well to drag me down to
+poverty--to share his lot as an exile.  I have never seen him since.
+But I would have shared his lot."
+
+"Humph!  Lost it?  Then if I had money and tried for our family estates,
+I might lose it too."
+
+"No, no, my boy; you would be certain to win.  Did you do what I told
+you?"
+
+"Yes, aunt; but I can't use them down here."
+
+"Let me look, my dear; and I do not see why not.  You must be bold; and
+proud of your descent."
+
+"But they'd laugh."
+
+"Let them," said Aunt Margaret grandly.  "By and by they will bow down.
+Let me see."
+
+The young man took a card-case from his pocket, on which was stamped in
+gold a French count's coronet.
+
+"Ah! yes; that is right," said the old lady, snatching the case with
+trembling fingers, opening it, and taking out a card on which was also
+printed a coronet.  "_Comte Henri des Vignes_," she read, in an excited
+manner, and with tears in her eyes.  "My darling boy!"
+
+"Cost a precious lot, aunt; made a regular hole in your diamond ring."
+
+"Did you sell it?"
+
+"No; Vic Pradelle pawned it for me."
+
+"Ah! he is a friend of whom you may be proud, Henri."
+
+"Not a bad sort of fellow, aunt.  He got precious little on the ring,
+though, and I spent it nearly all."
+
+"Never mind the ring, my boy, and I'm very glad you have the cards.  Now
+for a little serious talk about the future."
+
+"Wish to goodness there was no future," said Harry glumly.
+
+"Would you like to talk about the past, then?" said the old lady
+playfully.
+
+"Wish there was no past neither," grumbled Harry.
+
+"Then we will talk about the present, my dear, and about--let me whisper
+to you--love!"
+
+She placed her thin lips close to her nephew's ear, and then held him at
+arm's length and smiled upon him proudly.
+
+"Love!  Too expensive a luxury for me, auntie.  I say, you are ruffling
+my hair so."
+
+"Too expensive, Henri?  No, my darling boy; follow my advice, and the
+richest and fairest of the daughters of France shall sue for your hand."
+
+"I say, auntie," he said laughingly, "aren't you laying on the colour
+rather thick?"
+
+"Not a bit, my darling; and that's why I want to talk to you about your
+sister's friend."
+
+"What, Maddy?" he said eagerly; "then you approve of it."
+
+"Approve!  Pah! you are jesting, my dear.  I approve of your making an
+alliance with a fat Dutch fraulein!"
+
+"Oh, come, aunt!" said Harry, looking nettled; "Madelaine is not Dutch,
+nor yet fat."
+
+"I know better, my boy.  Dutch!  Dutch!  Dutch!  Look at her father and
+her mother!  No, my boy, you could not make an alliance with a girl like
+that.  She might do for a kitchen-maid."
+
+"Auntie!"
+
+"Silly boy!"
+
+"And she'll be rich some day."
+
+"If she were heiress to millions she could not marry you.  As some
+writer says, eagles do not mate with plump Dutch ducklings.  No, Henri,
+my boy, you must wait."  Harry frowned.
+
+"That is a boyish piece of nonsense, unworthy the Comte des Vignes, my
+dear boy.  But tell me--you have been with your father--what does he say
+now?"
+
+"The old story.  I must go to work."
+
+"Poor George!" sighed Aunt Margaret: "always so sordid in his ideas in
+early life: now that he is wealthy so utterly wanting in aspirations!
+Always dallying over some miserable shrimp.  He has no more ambition
+than one of those silly fish over which he sits and dreams.  Oh, Henri,
+my boy, when I look back at what our family has been--right back into
+the distant ages of French history--valorous knights and noble ladies;
+and later on, how they graced the court at banquet and at ball, I weep
+the salt tears of misery to see my brother sink so low."
+
+"Ah! well, it's of no use, aunt.  I must go and turn somebody's
+grindstone again."
+
+"No, Henri, it shall not be," cried the old lady, with flashing eyes.
+"We must think; we must plot and plan."
+
+"If you please, ma'am, I've brought your lunch," said a voice; and Liza,
+the maid, who bore a strong resemblance to the fish-woman who had
+accosted Uncle Luke at the mouth of the harbour, set down a
+delicately-cooked cutlet and bit of fish, all spread on a snowy napkin,
+with the accompaniments of plate, glass, and a decanter of sherry.
+
+"Ah! yes, my lunch," said Aunt Margaret, with a sigh.  "Go, and think
+over what I have said, my dear, and we will talk again another time."
+
+"All right, auntie," said the young man, rising slowly; "but it seems to
+me as if the best thing I could do would be to jump into the sea."
+
+"No, no, Henri," said Aunt Margaret, taking up a silver spoon and
+shaking it slowly at her nephew, "a Des Vignes was ready with his sword
+in defence of his honour, and to advance his master's cause; but he
+never dreamed of taking his own life.  That, my dear, would be the act
+of one of the low-born _canaille_.  Remember who you are, and wait.  I
+am working for you, and you shall triumph yet.  Consult your friend."
+
+"Sometimes I think it's all gammon," said Harry, as he went slowly
+down-stairs, and out into the garden, "and sometimes it seems as if it
+would be very jolly.  I dare say the old woman is right, and--"
+
+"What are you talking about--muttering aside like the wicked man on the
+stage?"
+
+"Hullo, Vic!  You there?"
+
+"Yes, clear boy.  I'm here for want of somewhere better."
+
+"Consult your friend!"  Aunt Margaret's last words.
+
+"Been having a cigar?"
+
+"I've been hanging about here this last hour.  How is it she hasn't been
+for a walk?"
+
+"Louie?  Don't know.  Here, let's go down under the cliff, and have a
+talk over a pipe."
+
+"The latter, if you like; never mind the former.  Yes, I will; for I
+want a few words of a sort."
+
+"What about?" said Harry, as they strolled away.
+
+"Everything.  Look here, old fellow; we've been the best of chums ever
+since you shared my desk."
+
+"Yes, and you shared my allowance."
+
+"Well chums always do.  Then I came down with you, and it was all as
+jolly as could be, and I was making way fast, in spite of that
+confounded red-headed porridge-eating fellow.  Then came that upset, and
+I went away.  Then you wrote to me in answer to my letter about having a
+good thing on, and said `Come down.'"
+
+"And you came," said Harry thoughtfully, "and the good thing turned out
+a bad thing, as every one does that I join in."
+
+"Well, that was an accident; speculators must have some crust as well as
+crumb."
+
+"But I get all crust."
+
+"No, I seem to be getting all crust now from your people.  Your aunt's
+right enough, but your father casts his cold shoulder and stale bread at
+me whenever we meet; and as for a certain lady, she regularly cut me
+yesterday."
+
+"Well, I can't help that, Vic.  You know what I said when you told me
+you were on that.  I said that I couldn't do anything, and that I
+wouldn't do anything if I could; but that I wouldn't stand in your way
+if you liked to try."
+
+"Yes, I know what you said," grumbled Pradelle, as they strolled down to
+the shore, went round the rocks, and then strolled on over and amongst
+the shingle and sand, till--a suitable spot presenting itself, about
+half a mile from the town--they sat down on the soft sand, tilted their
+hats over their eyes, leaned their backs against a huge stone, and then
+lit up and began to smoke.
+
+"You see it's like this," said Pradelle; "I know I'm not much of a
+catch, but I like her, and that ought to make up for a great deal."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She don't know her own mind, that's about it," continued Pradelle; "and
+a word from you might do a deal."
+
+"Got any money, Vic?"
+
+"Now there's a mean sort of a question to ask a friend!  Have I got any
+money?  As if a man must be made of money before he may look at his old
+chum's sister."
+
+"I wasn't thinking about her, but of something else," said Harry
+hastily.
+
+"Ah, well, I wasn't; but look there!"
+
+"What at?" said Harry, whose eyes were shut, and his thoughts far away.
+
+"Them.  They're going for a walk.  Why.  Hal, old chap, they saw us come
+down here."
+
+Harry started into wakefulness, and realised the fact that his sister
+and Madelaine Van Heldre were passing before them, but down by the
+water's edge.
+
+"Let's follow them," said Pradelle eagerly.
+
+"Wait a moment."
+
+Harry waited to think, and scraps of his aunt's remarks floated through
+his brain respecting the fair daughters of France, who would fall at the
+feet of the young count.
+
+Harry cogitated.  The daughters of France were no doubt very lovely, but
+they were imaginative: and though Madelaine Van Heldre might, as his
+aunt said, not be of the pure Huguenot blood, still that fact did not
+seem to matter to him.  For that was not imagination before him, but the
+bright, natural, clever girl whom he had known from childhood, his old
+playfellow, who had always seemed to supply a something wanting in his
+mental organisation, the girl who had led him and influenced his career.
+
+"Bother Aunt Marguerite!" he said to himself, and then aloud, "Come
+along!"
+
+Volume 1, Chapter VI.
+
+HARRY VINE SPEAKS PLAINLY; SO DOES HIS FRIEND.
+
+Louise and Madelaine went on down by the water's edge, in profound
+ignorance of the fact that they were followed at a distance of about a
+couple of hundred yards.
+
+The two friends female were then in profound ignorance of the fact that
+they were watched, so were the two friends male.
+
+For some time past the owner of the mine high up on the cliff had been a
+thoroughly energetic man of business, but after the first introduction
+to the Vine family his business energy seemed to receive an impetus.  He
+was working for her, everything might be for her.
+
+Then came Pradelle upon the scene, and the young Scot was not long in
+seeing that the brother's London friend was also impressed, and that his
+advances found favour with Harry.  Whether they did with the sister he
+could not tell.
+
+The consequence was that there was a good deal of indecision on Duncan
+Leslie's part, some neglect of his busy mine, and a good deal of use of
+a double glass, which was supposed to be kept in a room, half office,
+half study and laboratory, for the purpose of scanning the shipping
+coming into port.
+
+On the day in question the glass was being applied to a purpose rather
+reprehensible, perhaps, but with some excuse of helping Duncan Leslie's
+affair of the heart.  From his window he could see the old granite-built
+house, and with interruptions, due to rocks and doublings and jutting
+pieces of cliff, a great deal of the winding and zigzag path, half
+steps, which led down to the shore.
+
+As, then, was frequently the case, the glass was directed toward the
+residence of the Vines, and Duncan Leslie saw Louise and Madelaine go
+down to the sea, stand watching the receding tide, and then go off west.
+
+After gazing through the glass for a time he laid it down, with his
+heart beating faster than usual, as he debated within himself whether he
+should go down to the shore and follow them.
+
+It was a hard fight, and inclination was rapidly mastering etiquette,
+when two figures, hitherto concealed, came into view from beneath the
+cliff and began to follow the ladies.
+
+Duncan Leslie's eyes flashed as he caught up the glass again, and after
+looking through it for a few minutes he closed it and threw it down.
+
+"I'm making a fool of myself," he said bitterly.  "Better attend to my
+business and think about it no more."
+
+The desire was upon him to focus the glass again and watch what took
+place, but he turned away with an angry ejaculation and put the glass in
+its case.
+
+"I might have known better," he said, "and it would be like playing the
+spy."
+
+He strode out and went to his engine-house, forcing himself to take an
+interest in what was going on, and wishing the while that he had not
+used that glass in so reprehensible a way.
+
+Oddly enough, just at that moment Uncle Luke was seated outside the door
+of his little cottage in its niche of the cliff below the mine, and
+wishing for this very glass.
+
+His was a cottage of the roughest construction, which he had bought some
+years before of an old fisherman; and his seat--he could not afford
+chairs, he said--was a rough block of granite, upon which he was very
+fond of sunning himself when the weather was fine.
+
+"I've a good mind to go and ask Leslie to lend me his glass," muttered
+the old man.  "No.  He'd only begin asking favours of me.  But all that
+ought to be stopped.  Wonder whether George knows.  What's Van Heldre
+about?  As for those two girls, I'll give them such a talking to--the
+gipsies!  Bah! it's no business of mine!  I'm not going to marry."
+
+"Yes, let's sit down," said Madelaine, turning round.  "Oh!"
+
+"What is it? sprained your ankle?"
+
+"No.  Mr Pradelle and Harry are close by."
+
+"Let's walk on quickly then, and go round back by the fields."
+
+"But it will be six miles."
+
+"Never mind if it's sixteen," said Louise, increasing her pace.
+
+"Hallo, girls," cried Harry, and they were obliged to face round.
+
+There was no warm look of welcome from either, but Pradelle was too much
+of the London man of the world to be taken aback, and he stepped forward
+to Louise's side, smiling.
+
+"You have chosen a delightful morning for your walk, Miss Vine."
+
+"Yes, but we were just going back."
+
+"No; don't go back yet," said Harry quickly, for he had strung himself
+up.  "Vic, old fellow, walk on with my sister.  I want to have a chat
+with Miss Van Heldre."
+
+The girls exchanged glances, each seeming to ask the other for counsel.
+
+Then, in a quiet, decisive way, Madelaine spoke.
+
+"Yes, do, Louie dear; I wanted to speak to your brother, too."
+
+There was another quick look passing between the friends, and then
+Louise bowed and walked on, Pradelle giving Harry a short nod which
+meant, according to his judgment, "It's all right."
+
+Louise was for keeping close to her companion, but her brother evidently
+intended her to have a _tete-a-tete_ encounter with his friend, and she
+realised directly that Madelaine did not second her efforts.  In fact
+the latter yielded at once to Harry's manoeuvres, and hung back with
+him, while Pradelle pressed forward, so that before many minutes had
+elapsed, the couples, as they walked west, were separated by a space of
+quite a couple of hundred yards.
+
+"Now I do call that good of you, Maddy," said Harry eagerly.  "You are,
+and you always were, a dear good little thing."
+
+"Do you think so?" she said directly, and her pleasant bright face was
+now very grave.
+
+"Do I think so!  You know I do.  There, I want a good talk with you,
+dear.  It's time I spoke plainly, and that we fully understood one
+another."
+
+"I thought we did, Harry."
+
+"Well, yes, of course, but I want to be more plain.  We're no boy and
+girl now."
+
+"No, Harry, we have grown up to be man and woman."
+
+"Yes, and ever since we were boy and girl, Maddy, I've loved you very
+dearly."
+
+Madelaine turned her clear searching eyes upon him in the most calm and
+untroubled way.
+
+"Yes, Harry, you have always seemed to."
+
+"And you have always cared for me very much?"
+
+"Yes, Harry.  Always."
+
+"Well, don't say it in such a cold, serious way, dear."
+
+"But it is a matter upon which one is bound to be cool and very
+serious."
+
+"Well, yes, of course.  I don't know that people are any the better for
+showing a lot of gush."
+
+"No, Harry, it is not so deep as the liking which is calm and cool and
+enduring."
+
+"I s'pose not," said the young man very disconcertedly.  "But don't be
+quite so cool.  I know you too well to think you would play with me."
+
+"I hope I shall always be very sincere, Harry."
+
+"Of course you will.  I know you will.  We began by being playmates--
+almost like brother and sister."
+
+"Yes, Harry."
+
+"But I always felt as I grew older that I should some day ask you to be
+my darling little wife; and, come now, you always thought so too?"
+
+"Yes, Harry, I always thought so too."
+
+"Ah, that's right, dear," said the young man, flushing.  "You always
+were the dearest and most honest and plain-spoken girl I ever met."
+
+"I try to be."
+
+"Of course; and look yonder, there's old Pradelle, the dearest and best
+friend a fellow ever had, talking to Louie as I'm talking to you."
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid he is."
+
+"Afraid?  Oh, come now, don't be prejudiced.  I want you to like
+Victor."
+
+"That would be impossible."
+
+"Impossible!  What, the man who will most likely be Louie's husband?"
+
+"Mr Pradelle will never be Louie's husband."
+
+"What!  Why, how do you know?"
+
+"Because I know your sister's heart too well."
+
+"And you don't like Pradelle?"
+
+"No, Harry; and I'm sorry you ever chose him for a companion."
+
+"Oh, come, dear, that's prejudice and a bit of jealousy.  Well, never
+mind about that now.  I want to talk about ourselves."
+
+"Yes, Harry."
+
+"I want you to promise to be my little wife.  I'm four-and-twenty, and
+you are nearly twenty, so it's quite time to talk about it."
+
+Madelaine shook her head.
+
+"Oh, come!" he said merrily, "no girl's coyness: we are too old friends
+for that, and understand one another too well.  Come, dear, when is it
+to be?"
+
+She turned and looked in the handsome flushed face beside her, and then
+said in the most cool and matter-of-fact way:
+
+"It is too soon to talk like that, Harry."
+
+"Too soon?  Not a bit of it.  You have told me that you will be my
+wife."
+
+"Some day, perhaps."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, dear!  I've been thinking this all over well.  You see,
+Maddy, you've let my not sticking to business trouble you."
+
+"Yes, Harry, very much."
+
+"Well, I'm very sorry, clear; and I suppose I have been a bit to blame,
+but I've been doing distasteful work, and I've been like a boat swinging
+about without an anchor.  I want you to be my anchor to hold me fast.
+I've wanted something to steady me--something to work for; and if I've
+got you for a wife I shall be a different man directly."
+
+Madelaine sighed.
+
+"Aunt Marguerite won't like it, because she is not very fond of you."
+
+"No," said Madelaine, "she does not like fat Dutch frauleins--Dutch
+dolls."
+
+"Get out!  What stuff!  She's a prejudiced old woman full of fads.  She
+never did like you."
+
+"Never, Harry."
+
+"Well, that doesn't matter a bit."
+
+"No.  That does not matter a bit."
+
+"You see I've had no end of thinks about all this, and it seems to me
+that if we're married at once, it will settle all the worries and
+bothers I've had lately.  The governor wants me to go to business again:
+but what's the use of that?  He's rich, and so is your father, and they
+can easily supply us with all that we should want, and then we shall be
+as happy as can be.  Of course I shall work at something.  I don't
+believe in a fellow with nothing to do.  You don't either?"
+
+"No, Harry."
+
+"Of course not, but all that toiling and moiling for the sake of money
+is a mistake.  Never mind what Aunt Marguerite says.  I'll soon work her
+round, and of course I can do what I like with the governor.  He's so
+fond of you that he'll be delighted, and he knows it will do me good.
+So now there's nothing to do but for me to go and see your father and
+ask his consent.  I did think of letting you coax him round: but that
+would be cowardly, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Yes, Harry, very cowardly, and lower you very much in my eyes."
+
+"Of course: but, I say, don't be so serious.  Well, it's a bitter pill
+to swallow, for your governor will be down on me tremendously.  I'll
+face him, though.  I'll talk about our love and all that sort of thing,
+and it will be all right.  I'll go to him to-day."
+
+"No, Harry," said Madelaine, looking him full in the face, "don't do
+that."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it would expose you to a very severe rebuff."
+
+"Will you speak to him then?  No: I'll do it."
+
+"No.  If you did my father would immediately speak to me, and I should
+have to tell him what I am going to tell you."
+
+"Well?  Out with it."
+
+"Do you suppose," said Madelaine, once more turning her clear frank eyes
+upon the young man, and speaking with a quiet decision that startled
+him; "do you suppose I could be so wanting in duty to those at home, so
+wanting in love to you, Harry, that I could consent to a marriage which
+would only mean fixing you permanently in your present thoughtless
+ways?"
+
+"Madelaine!"
+
+"Let me finish, Harry, and tell you what has been on my lips for months
+past.  I am younger by several years than you, but do you think I am so
+wanting in worldly experience that I am blind to your reckless folly, or
+the pain you are giving father and sister by your acts?"
+
+"Why, Maddy," he cried, in a voice full of vexation, which belied the
+mocking laugh upon his lips, "I didn't think you could preach like
+that."
+
+"It is time to preach, Harry, when I see you so lost to self-respect,
+and find that you are ready to place yourself and the girl you wish to
+call wife, in a dependent position, instead of proudly and manfully
+making yourself your own master."
+
+"Well, this is pleasant!  Am I to understand that you throw me over?"
+
+"No, Harry," said Madelaine sadly, "you are to understand that I care
+for you too much to encourage you in a weak folly."
+
+"A weak folly--to ask you what you have always expected I should, ask!"
+
+"Yes, to ask it at such a time when, after being placed in post after
+post by my father's help, and losing them one by one by your folly,
+you--"
+
+"Oh, come, that will do," cried the young man angrily; "if it's to be
+like this it's a good job that we came to an explanation at once.  So
+this is gentle, amiable, sweet-tempered Madelaine, eh!  Hallo!  You!"
+
+He turned sharply.  Louise and Pradelle had come over a stretch of sand
+with their footsteps inaudible.
+
+"It is quite time we returned, Madelaine," said Louise gravely; and
+without another word the two girls walked away.
+
+"'Pon my word," cried Harry with a laugh, "things are improving.  Well,
+Vic, how did you get on?"
+
+"How did I get on indeed!" cried Pradelle angrily.  "Look here, Harry
+Vine, are you playing square with me?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"What I say: are you honest, or have you been setting her against me?"
+
+"Why you--no, I won't quarrel," cried Harry.  "What did she say to you?"
+
+"Say to me?  I was never so snubbed in my life.  Her ladyship doesn't
+know me if she thinks I'm going to give up like that."
+
+"There, that'll do, Vic.  No threats, please."
+
+"Oh, no; I'm not going to threaten.  I can wait."
+
+"Yes," said Harry, thoughtfully; "we chose the wrong time.  We mustn't
+give up, Vic; we shall have to wait."
+
+And they went back to their old nook beneath the cliff to smoke their
+pipes, while as the thin blue vapour arose Harry's hot anger grew cool,
+and he began to think of his aunt's words, of Comte Henri des Vignes,
+and of the fair daughters of France--a reverie from which he was aroused
+by his companion, as he said suddenly--
+
+"I say, Harry, lad, I want you to lend me a little coin."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter VII.
+
+CHEZ VAN HELDRE.
+
+The two friends parted at the gate, Madelaine refusing to go in.
+
+"No," she said; "they will be expecting me at home."
+
+"Maddy dear, ought we not to confide in each other?"
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Madelaine, with a sigh of relief that the constraint was
+over.  "Yes, dear.  Did Mr Pradelle propose to you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you told him it was impossible?"
+
+"Yes.  What did my brother want to say?"
+
+"That we ought to be married now, and it would make him a better man."
+
+"And you told him it was impossible?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+There was another sigh as if of relief on both sides, and the two girls
+kissed again and parted.
+
+It was a brisk quarter of an hour's walk to the Van Heldres', which lay
+at the end of the main street up the valley down which the little river
+ran; and on entering the door, with a longing upon her to go at once to
+her room and sit down and cry, Madelaine uttered a sigh full of misery,
+for she saw that it was impossible.
+
+As she approached the great stone porch leading into the broad hall,
+which was one of the most attractive-looking places in the house, filled
+as it was with curiosities and other objects brought by the various
+captains from the Mediterranean, and embracing cabinets from
+Constantinople with rugs and pipes, little terra-cotta figures from
+Sardinia, and pictures and pieces of statuary from Rome, Naples, and
+Trieste, she was saluted with--
+
+"Ah, my dear, I'm so glad you've come back.  Where's papa?"
+
+"I have not seen him, mamma."
+
+"Busy, I suppose.  How he does work!"  Then suddenly, "By the way, that
+Mr Pradelle.  I don't like him, my dear."
+
+"Neither do I, mamma."
+
+"That's right, my dear; I'm very glad to hear you say so; but surely
+Louie Vine is not going to be beguiled by him?"
+
+"Oh no."
+
+"All, that's all very well; but Luke Vine came in as he went by, to say
+in his sneering fashion that Louie and Mr Pradelle were down on the
+shore, and that you were walking some distance behind with Harry."
+
+"Mr Luke Vine seems to have plenty of time for watching his
+neighbours," said Madelaine contemptuously.
+
+"Yes; he is always noticing things; but don't blame him, dear.  I'm sure
+he means well, and I can forgive him anything for that.  Here's your
+father."
+
+"Ah! my dears," said Van Heldre cheerily.  "Tired out."
+
+"You must be," said Mrs Van Heldre, bustling about him to take his hat
+and gloves.
+
+"Here, do come and sit down."
+
+The merchant went into the drawing-room very readily, and submitted to
+several little pleasant attentions from wife and daughter.
+
+Evening came on with Van Heldre seated in his easy-chair, thoughtfully
+watching wife and daughter; both of whom had work in their laps; but
+Mrs Van Heldre's was all a pretence, for, after a few stitches, her
+head began to nod forward, then back against the cushion, and then, as
+if by magic, she was fast asleep.
+
+Madelaine's needle, however, flew fast, and she went on working, with
+her father watching her attentively, till she raised her eyes.
+
+"You want to say something to me, Maddy," he said in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, papa."
+
+"About your walk down on the beach?"
+
+Madelaine nodded.
+
+"You know I went."
+
+"Yes; I saw you, and Luke Vine came and told me as well."
+
+"It was very kind of him," said Madelaine, with a touch of sarcasm in
+her voice.
+
+"Kind and unkind, my dear.  You see he has no business--nothing to do
+but to think of other people.  But he means well, my dear, and he likes
+you."
+
+"I have often thought so."
+
+"Yes; and you were right.  He warned me that I was not to let your
+intimacy grow closer with his nephew."
+
+"Indeed, papa!"
+
+"Yes, my dear.  He said that I was a--well, I will not tell you what,
+for not stopping it directly, for that Harry was rapidly drifting into a
+bad course--that it was a hopeless case."
+
+"That is not the way to redeem him, father."
+
+"No, my clear, it is not.  But you were going to say something to me?"
+
+"Yes," said Madelaine, hesitating.  Then putting down her work she rose
+and went to her father's side, knelt down, and resting her arms upon his
+knees, looked straight up in his face.
+
+"Well, Maddy?"
+
+"I wanted to speak to you about Harry."  There was a slight twitching
+about the merchant's brows, but his face was calm directly, and he said
+coolly--
+
+"What about Harry Vine?"  Madelaine hesitated for a few moments, and
+then spoke out firmly and bravely.
+
+"I have been thinking about his position, father, and of how sad it is
+for him to be wasting his days as he is down here."
+
+"Very sad, Maddy.  He is, as Luke Vine says, going wrong.  Well?"
+
+"I have been thinking, papa, that you might take him into your office
+and give him a chance of redeeming the past."
+
+"Nice suggestion, my dear.  What would old Crampton say?"
+
+"Mr Crampton could only say that you had done a very kind act for the
+son of your old friend."
+
+"Humph!  Well?"
+
+"You could easily arrange to take him, papa, and with your firm hand
+over him it would do an immense deal of good."
+
+"Not to me."
+
+There was a pause, and Van Heldre gazed into his child's unblenching
+eyes.
+
+"So we are coming at facts," he said at last.  "Harry asked you to
+interfere on his behalf?"
+
+Madelaine shook her head and smiled.
+
+"Is this your own idea?"
+
+"Entirely."
+
+"Then what was the meaning of the walk on the beach to-day?"
+
+"Harry sought for it, and said that we had been playfellows from
+children, that he loved me very dearly, and he asked me to be his wife."
+
+"The--"
+
+Van Heldre checked himself.
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"That it was impossible."
+
+"Then you do not care for him?"
+
+Madelaine was silent.
+
+"Then you do not care for him?"
+
+"I'm afraid I care for him very much indeed," said Madelaine firmly.
+
+"Let me thoroughly understand you, my darling.  You love George Vine's
+son--your old friend's brother?"
+
+"Yes, father," said Madelaine, in a voice little above a whisper.
+
+"And he has asked you to be his wife?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me what answer you gave him."
+
+"That I would never marry a man so wanting in self-respect."
+
+"Hah!"
+
+"He said that our parents were rich, that there was no need for him to
+toil as he had done, but that if I consented it would give him an
+impetus to work."
+
+"And you declined conditionally?"
+
+"I declined absolutely, father."
+
+"And yet you love him?"
+
+"I'm afraid I love him very dearly."
+
+"You are a strange girl, Madelaine."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Do you know what it means for me to take this fellow into my office?"
+
+"Much trouble and care."
+
+"Yes.  Then why should I?"
+
+"Because, as you have so often taught me, we cannot live for ourselves
+alone.  Because he is the son of your very old friend."
+
+"Yes," said Van Heldre softly.
+
+"Because it might save him from a downward course now that there is, I
+believe, a crisis in his life."
+
+"And because you love him, Maddy?"
+
+She answered with a look.
+
+"And if I were so insane, so quixotic, as to do all this, what guarantee
+have I that he would not gradually lead you to think differently--to
+consent to be his wife before he had redeemed his character?"
+
+"The trust you have in me."
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated Van Heldre again.  And there was another long silence.
+
+"I feel that I must plead for him, father.  You could influence him so
+much."
+
+"I'm afraid not, my child.  If he has not the manliness to do what is
+right for your sake, anything I could do or say would not be of much
+avail."
+
+"You underrate your power, father," said Madelaine, with a look full of
+pride in him.
+
+"And if I did this I might have absolute confidence that matters should
+go no farther until he had completely changed?"
+
+"You know you might."
+
+"Hah!" sighed Van Heldre.
+
+"You will think this over, father?"
+
+"There is no need, my dear."
+
+"No need?"
+
+"No, my child.  I have for some days past been thinking over this very
+thing, just in the light in which you placed it."
+
+"You have?"
+
+"Yes, and I had a long talk with George Vine this afternoon respecting
+his son."
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+"I told him I could see that the trouble was growing bigger and telling
+upon him, and proposed that I should take Harry here."
+
+Madelaine had started to her feet.
+
+"Presuming that he does not refuse after his father has made my
+proposals known, Harry Vine comes here daily to work."
+
+Madelaine's arms were round her father's neck.
+
+"You have made me feel very happy and satisfied, my dear, and may Heaven
+speed what is going to be a very arduous task."
+
+Just then Mrs Van Heldre raised her head and looked round.
+
+"Bless my heart!" she exclaimed.  "I do believe I have nearly been to
+sleep."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter VIII.
+
+UNCLE LUKE SPEAKS HIS MIND.
+
+"Hallo, Scotchman!"
+
+"Hallo, Eng--I mean French--What am I to call you, Mr Luke Vine?"
+
+"Englishman, of course."
+
+Uncle Luke was seated, in a very shabby-looking grey tweed Norfolk
+jacket made long, a garment which suited his tastes, from its being an
+easy comfortable article of attire.  He had on an old Panama hat, a good
+deal stained, and had a thick stick armed with a strong iron point
+useful for walking among the rocks, and upon this staff he rested as he
+sat outside his cottage door watching the sea and pondering as to the
+probability of a shoal of fish being off the point.
+
+His home with its tiny scrap of rough walled-in garden, which grew
+nothing but sea holly and tamarisk, was desolate-looking in the extreme,
+but the view therefrom of the half natural pier sheltering the vessels
+in the harbour of the twin town was glorious.
+
+He had had his breakfast and taken his seat out in the sunshine, when he
+became aware of the fact that Duncan Leslie was coming down from the
+mine buildings above, and he hailed him with a snarl and the above
+words.
+
+"Glorious morning."
+
+"Humph!  Yes, but what's that got to do with you?"
+
+"Everything.  Do you suppose I don't like fine weather?"
+
+"I thought you didn't care for anything but money-grubbing."
+
+"Then you were mistaken, because I do."
+
+"Nonsense!  You think of nothing but copper, spoiling the face of nature
+with the broken rubbish your men dig out of the bowels of the earth,
+poisoning the air with the fumes of those abominable furnaces.  Look at
+that!"
+
+The old man raised his stick and made a vicious dig with it in the
+direction of the mine.
+
+"Look at what?"
+
+"That shaft.  Looks like some huge worm that your men disturbed down
+below, and sent it crawling along the hill slope till it could rear its
+abominable head in the air and look which way to go to be at rest."
+
+"It was there when I took the mine, and it answers its purpose."
+
+"Bah!  What purpose?  To make money?"
+
+"Yes; to make money.  Very useful thing, Mr Luke."
+
+"Rubbish!  You're as bad as Van Heldre with his ships and his smelting
+works.  Money!  Money!  Money!  Always money, morning, noon, and night.
+One constant hunt for the accursed stuff.  Look at me!"
+
+"I was looking at you, old fellow; and studying you."
+
+"Humph!  Waste of time, unless you follow my example."
+
+"Then it will be waste of time, sir, for I certainly shall not follow
+your example."
+
+"Why not, boy?  Look at me.  I have no troubles.  I pay no rent.  My
+wants are few.  I am nearly independent of tradespeople and tax men.
+I've no slatternly wife to worry me, no young children to be always
+tumbling down the rocks or catching the measles.  I'm free of all these
+troubles, and I'm a happy man."
+
+"Well, then, your appearance belies you, sir, for you do not look it,"
+said Leslie laughing.
+
+"Never you mind my appearance," said Uncle Luke sharply.  "I am happy;
+at least, I should be, if you'd do away with that great smoky chimney
+and stop those rattling stamps."
+
+"Then I'm afraid that I cannot oblige you, neighbour."
+
+"Humph!  Neighbour!"
+
+"I fancy that an unbiassed person would blame you and not me."
+
+"Of course he would."
+
+"He'd say if a man chooses to turn himself into a sort of modern
+Diogenes--"
+
+"Diogenes be hanged, sir!  All a myth.  I don't believe there ever was
+such a body.  And look here, Leslie, I imitate no man--no myth.  I
+prefer to live this way for my own satisfaction, and I shall."
+
+"And welcome for me, old fellow; only don't scold me for living my way."
+
+"Not going to.  Here, stop!  I want to talk to you.  How's copper?"
+
+"Up a good deal, but you don't want to know."
+
+"Of course I don't.  But look here.  What do you think of my nephew?"
+
+"Tall, good-looking young fellow."
+
+"Humph!  What's the good of that?  You know all about him, of course?"
+
+"I should prefer not to sit in judgment on the gentleman in question."
+
+"So I suppose.  Nice boy, though, isn't he?"
+
+Leslie was silent.
+
+"I say he's a nice boy, isn't he?" cried the old man, raising his voice.
+
+"I heard what you said.  He is your nephew."
+
+"Worse luck!  How is he getting on at Van Heldre's?"
+
+"I have not the least idea, sir."
+
+"More have I.  They won't tell me.  How about that friend of his?  What
+do you think of him?"
+
+"Really, Mr Vine," said Leslie, laughing, "I do not set up as a judge
+of young men's character.  It is nothing to me."
+
+"Yes, it is.  Do you suppose I'm blind?  Do you suppose I can't tell
+which way the wind blows?  If I were young, do you know what I should
+do?"
+
+"Do away with the chimney-shaft and the stamps," said Leslie, laughing.
+
+"No; I should just get hold of that fellow some night, and walk him to
+where the coach starts."
+
+Leslie's face looked warm.
+
+"And then I should say, `Jump up, and when you get to the station, book
+for London; and if ever you show your face in Hakemouth again I'll break
+your neck.'"
+
+"You must excuse me, Mr Luke; I'm busy this morning," said Leslie, and
+he began to descend the steep path.
+
+"Touched him on the tender place," said Uncle Luke, with a chuckle.
+"Humph! wonder whether Louie will come and see me to-day."
+
+Duncan Leslie went on down the zigzag cliff-path leading from the Wheal
+Germains copper-mine to the town.  It was a picturesque way, with a
+fresh view at every turn west and east; and an advanced member of the
+town board had proposed and carried the suggestion of placing rough
+granite seats here and there in the best parts for resting those who
+climbed, and for giving others attractive places for sunning themselves
+and looking out to sea.
+
+About half-way down Leslie passed an invalid, who had taken possession
+of a seat, and was gazing right away south, and dreaming of lands where
+the sun always shone--wondering whether the bright maiden Health could
+be found there.
+
+Lower still Leslie was going on thoughtfully, pondering on Uncle Luke's
+hints, when the blood suddenly flushed into his cheeks, his heart began
+to beat rapidly, and he increased his pace.  For there unmistakably were
+two ladies going down the zigzag, and there were no two others in
+Hakemouth could be mistaken for them.
+
+He hurried on to overtake them.  Then he checked himself.
+
+"Where had they been?"
+
+His sinking heart suggested that they had been on their way to visit
+Uncle Luke, but that they had caught sight of him, and in consequence
+returned.
+
+His brow grew gloomy, and he walked slowly on, when the blood flushed to
+his cheeks again, as if he had been surprised in some guilty act, for a
+sharp voice said--
+
+"No, Mr Leslie; you would not be able to overtake them now."
+
+He stopped short, and turned to the warm sheltered nook among the rocks
+where Aunt Margaret was seated; her grey lavender dress was carefully
+spread about her, her white hair turned back beneath a black velvet
+satin-lined hood, and a lace fichu pinned across her breast.
+
+"You here, Miss Vine?"
+
+"Yes; and I thought I would save you a thankless effort.  You could not
+overtake the girls unless you ran."
+
+"I was not going to try and overtake them, Miss Vine," said Leslie
+coldly.
+
+"Indeed!  I beg your pardon; I thought you were.  But would you mind,
+Mr Leslie--it is a very trifling request, but I set store by these
+little relics of our early history--Miss _Marguerite_ Vine, if you would
+be so kind?"
+
+Leslie bowed.  "Certainly, Miss Marguerite," he said quietly.
+
+"Thank you," she said, detaining him.  "It is very good of you.  Of
+course you are surprised to see me up here?"
+
+"Oh no," said Leslie quietly.  "It is a delightful place to sit and rest
+and read."
+
+"Ye-es; but I cannot say that I care much for the rough walking of this
+part of the world, and my brother seems somehow to have taken quite a
+dislike to the idea of having a carriage?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"So I am obliged to walk when I do come out.  There are certain duties
+one is forced to attend to.  For instance, there is my poor brother up
+yonder.  I feel bound to see him from time to time.  You see him
+frequently, of course?"
+
+"Every day, necessarily.  We are so near."
+
+"Poor fellow! yes.  Very eccentric and peculiar; but you need be under
+no apprehension, Mr Leslie.  He is quite harmless, I am sure."
+
+"Oh, quite harmless, Miss Marguerite.  Merely original."
+
+"It is very good of you to call it originality; but as friends, Mr
+Leslie, there is no harm in our alluding to his poor brain.  Softening,
+a medical man told me."
+
+"Hardening, I should say," thought Leslie.
+
+"Very peculiar! very peculiar!  Father and uncle both so different from
+my dear nephew.  He is in very bad spirits.  Ah!  Mr Leslie, I shall be
+very glad to see him once more as a Des Vignes should be.  With him
+placed in the position that should be his, and that engagement carried
+out regarding my darling Louise's future, I could leave this world of
+sorrow without a sigh."
+
+Leslie winced, but it was not perceptible to Aunt Marguerite, who,
+feeling dissatisfied with the result of her shot, fired again.
+
+"Of course it would involve losing my darling; but at my time of life,
+Mr Leslie, one has learned that it is one's duty always to study
+self-sacrifice.  The Des Vignes were always a self-sacrificing family.
+When it was not for some one or other of their kindred it was for their
+king, and then for their faith.  You know our old French motto, Mr
+Leslie?"
+
+"I?  No.  I beg pardon."
+
+"Really?  I should have thought that you could not fail to see that.  It
+is almost the only trace of our former greatness that my misguided
+brother--"
+
+"Were you alluding to Mr Luke Vine?"
+
+"No, no, no, no!  To my brother, George des Vignes.  Surely, Mr Leslie,
+you must have noted our arms upon the dining-room windows."
+
+"Oh, yes, of course, of course; and the motto, _Roy et Foy_."
+
+"Exactly," said Aunt Marguerite, smiling.  "I thought it must have
+caught your eye."  Something else was catching Duncan Leslie's eye just
+then--the last flutter of the scarf Louise wore before it disappeared
+round the foot of the cliff.
+
+"I shall bear it, I dare say, and with fortitude, Mr Leslie, for it
+will be a grand position that she will take.  The De Lignys are a family
+almost as old as our own; and fate might arrange for me to visit them
+and make a long stay.  She's a sweet girl, is she not, Mr Leslie?"
+
+"Miss Vine?  Yes; you must be very proud of her," said the young man,
+without moving a muscle.
+
+"We are; we are indeed, Mr Leslie; but I am afraid I am detaining you."
+
+"It is curious," said Leslie, as he walked slowly down the cliff-path.
+"De Ligny, De Ligny?  Who is De Ligny?  Well," he added with a sigh, "I
+ought to thank Heaven that the name is not Pradelle."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter IX.
+
+IN OFFICE HOURS.
+
+"Now, my dear Mr Crampton, believe me, I am only actuated by a desire
+to do good."
+
+"That's exactly what actuates me, sir, when I make bold, after forty
+years' service with you and your father, to tell you that you have made
+a great mistake."
+
+"All men make mistakes, Crampton," said Van Heldre to his plump, grey,
+stern-looking head clerk.
+
+"Yes, sir, but if they are then worth their salt they see where they
+have made a mistake, and try and correct it.  We did not want him."
+
+"As far as actual work to be done, no; but I will tell you plainly why I
+took on the young man.  I wish to help my old friend in a peculiarly
+troubled period of his life."
+
+"That's you all over, Mr Van Heldre," said the old clerk, pinching his
+very red nose, and then arranging his thin hair with a pen-holder, "but
+I can't feel that it's right.  You see, the young man don't take to his
+work.  He comes and goes in a supercilious manner, and treats me as if I
+were his servant."
+
+"Oh, that will soon pass off, Crampton."
+
+"I hope so, Mr Van Heldre, sir, but his writing's as bad as a
+schoolboy's."
+
+"That will improve."
+
+"He's always late of a morning."
+
+"I'll ask him to correct that."
+
+"And he's always doing what I hate in a young man, seeing how short is
+life, sir, and how soon we're gone--he's always looking at the clock and
+yawning."
+
+"Never mind, Crampton, he'll soon give up all that sort of thing.  The
+young man is like an ill-trained tree.  He has grown rather wild, but
+now he has been transplanted to an orderly office, to be under your
+constant supervision, he will gradually imbibe your habits and
+precision.  It will be his making."
+
+"Now, now, now," said the old clerk, shaking his head, "that's
+flattering, sir.  My habits and precision.  No, no, sir; I'm a very bad
+clerk, and I'm growing old as fast as I can."
+
+"You are the best clerk in the west of England, Crampton, and you are
+only growing old at the customary rate.  And now to oblige me look over
+these little blemishes in the young man's character.  There is a good
+deal of the spoiled boy in him, but I believe his heart's right; and for
+more reasons than one I want him to develop into a good man of
+business--such a one as we can make of him if we try."
+
+"Don't say another word, Mr Van Heldre.  You know me, and if I say as
+long as the young man is honest and straightforward I'll do my best for
+him, I suppose that's sufficient."
+
+"More than sufficient, Crampton."
+
+"But you know, sir, he ought to have made some little advance in a
+month."
+
+"No, no, Crampton," said Van Heldre, smiling, "he has not grown used to
+the new suit yet; have patience, and he'll come right."
+
+"That's enough, sir," said Crampton, climbing on to a high stool in
+front of a well-polished desk; "now for business.  The _St. Aubyn_ has
+taken in all her cargo, and will sail to-morrow.  We ought soon to have
+news of the _Madelaine_.  By the way, I hope Miss Madelaine's quite
+well, sir.  Haven't seen her for a day and a half."
+
+"Quite well, Crampton."
+
+"That's right, sir," said the old man, smiling, and rubbing his hands.
+"Bless her!  I've only one thing against her.  Why wasn't she a boy?"
+
+Van Heldre smiled at his old confidential man, who still rubbed his
+hands softly, and gazed over his silver-rimmed spectacles at a file of
+bills of lading hanging from the wall.
+
+"What a boy she would have made, and what a man I could have made of
+him!  Van Heldre and Son once more, as it ought to be.  I'd have made
+just such a man of business of him as I made of you.  Going, sir?"
+
+"Yes, I'm going up to Tolzarn.  By the way, send Mr Henry Vine up to me
+about twelve."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Crampton, beginning to write away very busily.  "I
+suppose he'll come?"
+
+"Of course, of course," said Van Heldre, hastily, and leaving the office
+he went into the morning-room, where Madelaine was busy with her needle.
+
+She looked at him in an inquiring way, to which he had become accustomed
+during the past month, and in accordance with an unwritten contract.
+
+"No, my dear, not come yet."
+
+Madelaine's countenance changed as she saw her father glance at his
+watch, and she involuntarily darted a quick look at the clock on the
+chimney-piece.
+
+"I'm going up to the works," continued Van Heldre.  "Back before one.
+Morning."
+
+Madelaine resumed her work for a few minutes, and then rose to stand
+where, unseen, she could watch the road.  She saw her father go by up
+the valley, but her attention was turned toward the sea, from which
+direction Harry Vine would have to come.
+
+She stood watching for nearly a quarter of an hour before she heard a
+familiar step, and then the young man passed smoking the end of a cigar,
+which he threw away before turning in at the way which led to Van
+Heldre's offices.
+
+Directly after, as Madelaine sat looking very thoughtful over her work,
+there was the quick patter of Mrs Van Heldre's feet.
+
+"Madelaine, my dear," she said as she entered, "I thought you said that
+Mr Pradelle had gone away a fortnight ago."
+
+"I did, mamma."
+
+"Well, then, he has come back again."
+
+"Back again?"
+
+"Yes, I was at the up-stairs window just now and I saw him pass as I was
+looking out for Harry Vine.  He's very late this morning, and it does
+make papa so vexed."
+
+It was late, for instead of being nine o'clock, the clock in the office
+was on the stroke of ten as Harry Vine hurriedly entered, and glanced at
+the yellowy-white faced dial.
+
+"Morning, Mr Crampton.  I say, that clock's fast, isn't it?"
+
+"Eh? fast?" said the old man grimly.  "No, Mr Harry Vine; that's a
+steady old time-keeper, not a modern young man."
+
+"Disagreeable old hunks," said Harry to himself, as he hung up his hat.
+"Bad headache this morning, Mr Crampton, thought I shouldn't be able to
+come."
+
+"Seidlitz powder," said the old man, scratching away with his pen.
+"Eh?"
+
+"Dissolve the blue in a tumbler of warm water."
+
+"Bother!" muttered Harry, frowning.
+
+"The white in a wineglassful of cold.  Pour one into the other--and--
+drink--while effervescing."
+
+The intervals between some of the words were filled up by scratches of
+the pen.
+
+"Headache, eh?  Bad things, sir, bad things."
+
+He removed himself from his stool and went to the safe in the inner
+office, where Van Heldre generally sat, and Harry raised his head from
+his desk and listened, as he heard the rattling of keys and the clang of
+a small iron door.
+
+"Yes, bad things headaches, Mr Harry," said the old man returning.
+"Try early hours for 'em; and look here, Mr Van Heldre says--"
+
+"Has he been in the office this morning?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he came in as soon as I'd come, nine to the minute, and he
+wants you to join him at the tin works about twelve."
+
+"Wigging!" said guilty conscience.
+
+"Do your head good, sir."
+
+Old Crampton resumed his seat, and for an hour and three-quarters,
+during which period Harry had several times looked at the clock and
+yawned, there was a constant scratching of pens.
+
+Then Harry Vine descended from his stool.
+
+"I'd better go now?"
+
+"Yes, sir, you'd better go now.  And might have gone before for all the
+good you've done," grumbled the old man, as Harry passed the window.
+
+The old man had hardly spent another half-hour over his work when there
+was a sharp tapping at the door, such as might be given by the knob on a
+stick.
+
+"Come in."
+
+The door was opened, and Pradelle entered and gave a sharp look round.
+
+"Morning," he said in a cavalier way.  "Tell Mr Vine I want to speak to
+him for a moment."
+
+Old Crampton looked up from his writing, and fixed his eyes on the
+visitor's hat.
+
+"Not at home," he said shortly.
+
+"How long will he be?"
+
+"Don't know."
+
+"Where has he gone?"
+
+"Tin works."
+
+"Confounded old bear!" muttered Pradelle as he went out, after frowning
+severely at the old clerk, who did not see it.
+
+"Idle young puppy!" grumbled Crampton, dotting an _i_ so fiercely that
+he drove his pen through the paper.  "I'd have knocked his hat off if I
+had had my ruler handy."
+
+Van Heldre was busy at work with a shovel when Harry Vine reached the
+tin-smelting works, which the merchant had added to his other ventures.
+He was beside a heap of what rather resembled wet coarsely ground
+coffee.
+
+"Ah, Harry," he said, "you may as well learn all these things.  Be
+useful some day.  Take hold of that shovel and turn that over."
+
+A strong mind generally acts upon one that is weak, and it was so here.
+
+Harry felt disposed, as he looked at his white hands, the shovel, and
+the heap, to thrust the said white hands into his pockets and walk away.
+
+But he took the shovel and plunged it in the heap, lifted it full, and
+then with a look of disgust said--
+
+"What am I to do with it?"
+
+"Shovel it away and get more out of the centre."
+
+Harry obeyed, and looked up.
+
+"Now take a couple of handfuls and examine them.  Don't be afraid, man,
+it's honest dirt."
+
+Van Heldre set the example, took a handful, and poured it from left to
+right and back.
+
+"Now," he said, "take notice: that's badly washed."
+
+"Not soap enough," said Harry, hiding his annoyance with an attempt at
+being facetious.
+
+"Not exactly," said Van Heldre dryly; "bad work.  Now when that tin is
+passed through the furnace there'll be twice as much slag and refuse as
+there ought to be.  That will do.  Leave the shovel, I want you to take
+account of those slabs of tin.  Mark them, number them, and enter them
+in this book.  It will take you an hour.  Then bring the account down to
+me at the office."
+
+"I can have a man to move the slabs?"
+
+"No: they are all busy.  If I were doing it, I should work without a
+man."
+
+"Hang it all!  I'm about sick of this," said Harry.  "How mad Aunt
+Marguerite would be if she could see me now!"
+
+He looked round at the low dirty sheds on one side, at the row of
+furnaces on the other, two of which emitted a steady roar as the tin
+within gradually turned from a brown granulated powder to a golden
+fluid, whose stony scum was floating on the top.
+
+"It's enough to make any man kick against his fate.  Nice occupation for
+a gentleman, 'pon my word!"
+
+A low whistle made him look up.  "Why, Vic," he cried; "I thought you
+were in town."
+
+"How are you, my Trojan?" cried the visitor boisterously.  "I was in
+town, but I've come back.  I say, cheerful work this for Monsieur le
+Comte Henri des Vignes!"
+
+"Don't chaff a fellow," said Harry angrily.  "What brought you down?"
+
+"Two things."
+
+"Now, look here, Vic.  Don't say any more about that.  Perhaps after a
+time I may get her to think differently, but now--"
+
+"I was not going to say anything about your sister, my dear boy.  I can
+wait and bear anything.  But I suppose I may say something about you."
+
+"About me?"
+
+"Yes.  I've got a splendid thing on.  Safe to make money--heaps of it."
+
+"Yes; but your schemes always want money first."
+
+"Well, hang it all, lad! you can't expect a crop of potatoes without
+planting a few bits first.  It wouldn't want much.  Only about fifty
+pounds.  A hundred would be better, but we could make fifty do."
+
+Harry shook his head.
+
+"Come, come; you haven't heard half yet.  I've the genuine information.
+It would be worth a pile of money.  It's our chance now--such a chance
+as may never occur again."
+
+"No, no; don't tempt me, Vic," said Harry, after a long whispered
+conversation.
+
+"Tempt?  I feel disposed to force you, lad.  It makes me half wild to
+see you degraded to such work as this.  Why, if we do as I propose, you
+will be in a position to follow out your aunt's instructions, engage
+lawyers to push on your case, and while you obtain your rights, I shall
+be in a position to ask your sister's hand without the chance of a
+refusal.  I tell you the thing's safe."
+
+"No, no," said Harry, shaking his head; "it's too risky.  We should lose
+and be worse off than ever."
+
+"With a horse like that, and me with safe private information about
+him!"
+
+"No," said Harry, "I won't.  I'm going to keep steadily on here, and, as
+the governor calls it, plod."
+
+"That you're not, if I know it," cried Pradelle, indignantly.  "I won't
+stand it.  It's disgraceful.  You shan't throw yourself away."
+
+"But I've got no money, old fellow."
+
+"Nonsense!  Get some of the old man."
+
+"No; I've done it too often.  He won't stand it now."
+
+"Well, of your aunt."
+
+"She hasn't a penny but what my father lets her have."
+
+"Your sister.  Come, she would let you have some."
+
+Harry shook his head.
+
+"No, I'm not going to ask her.  It's no good, Vic; I won't."
+
+"Well," said Pradelle, apostrophising an ingot of tin as it lay at his
+feet glistening with iridescent hues, "if any one had told me, I
+wouldn't have believed it.  Why, Harry, lad, you've only been a month at
+this mill-horse life, and you're quite changed.  What have they been
+doing to you, man?"
+
+"Breaking my spirit, I suppose they'd call it," said the young man
+bitterly.
+
+Harry shook his head.
+
+"Get out!  I won't have it.  You want waking up," said Pradelle, in a
+low, earnest voice.  "Think, lad, a few pounds placed as I could place
+'em, and there's fortune for us both, without reckoning on what you
+could do in France.  As your aunt says, there's money and a title
+waiting for you, if you'll only stretch out your hand to take 'em.
+Come, rouse yourself.  Harry Vine isn't the lad to settle down to this
+drudgery.  Why, I thought it was one of the workmen when I came up."
+
+"It's of no use," said Harry gloomily, as he seated himself on the
+ingots of tin.  "A man must submit to his fate."
+
+"Bah! a man's fate is what he makes it.  Look here; fifty or a hundred
+borrowed for a few days, and then repaid."
+
+"But suppose--"
+
+"Suppose!" cried Pradelle mockingly; "a business man has no time to
+suppose.  He strikes while the iron's hot.  You're going to strike iron,
+not tin."
+
+"How?  Where's the money?"
+
+"Where's the money?" said Pradelle mockingly.  "You want fifty or a
+hundred for a few days, when you could return it fifty times over; and
+you say, where's the money?"
+
+"Don't I tell you I have no one I could borrow from?" said Harry
+angrily.
+
+"Yes, you have," said Pradelle, sinking his voice.  "It's easy as easy.
+Only for a few days.  A temporary loan.  Look here."
+
+He bent down, and whispered a few words in the young man's ear, words
+which turned him crimson, and then deadly pale.
+
+"Pradelle!" he cried, in a hoarse whisper; "are you mad?"
+
+"No.  I was thinking of coming over to Auvergne to spend a month with my
+friend, the Count.  By and by, dear lad--by and by."
+
+"No, no; it is impossible," said Harry, hoarsely, and he gave a hasty
+glance round.  "I couldn't do that."
+
+"You could," said Pradelle, and then to himself; "and, if I know you,
+Harry Vine, you shall."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter X.
+
+HARRY VINE HAS A WANT.
+
+Breakfast-time, with George Vine quietly partaking of his toast and
+giving furtive glances at a _Beloe_ in a small squat bottle.  He was
+feeding his mind at the same time that he supplied the wants of his
+body.  Now it was a bite of toast, leaving in the embrowned bread such a
+mark as was seen by the dervish when the man asked after the lost camel;
+for the student of molluscous sea-life had lost a front tooth.  Now it
+was a glance at the little gooseberry-shaped creature, clear as crystal,
+glistening in the clear water with iridescent hues, and trailing behind
+it a couple of filaments of an extreme delicacy and beauty that
+warranted the student's admiration.
+
+Louise was seated opposite, performing matutinal experiments, so it
+seemed, with pots, cups, an urn, and various infusions and crystals.
+
+Pradelle was reading the paper, and Harry was dividing his time between
+eating some fried ham and glancing at the clock, which was pointing in
+the direction of the hour when he should be at Van Heldre's.
+
+"More tea, Louie; too sweet," said the head of the house, passing his
+cup, _via_ Pradelle.
+
+The cup was filled up and passed back, Louise failing to notice that
+Pradelle manoeuvred to touch her hand as he played his part in the
+transfer.  Then the door opened, and Liza, the brown-faced, black-haired
+Cornish maid, entered, bearing a tray with an untouched cup of tea, a
+brown piece of ham on its plate, and a little covered dish of hot toast.
+
+"Please, 'm, Miss Vine says she don't want no breakfast this morning."
+
+The _Beloe_ bottle dropped back into George Vine's pocket.
+
+"Eh!  My sister ill?" he said anxiously.
+
+"No, sir; she seems quite well, but she was gashly cross with me, and
+said why didn't Miss Louie bring it up."
+
+"Liza, I forbad you to use that foolish word, `gashly,'" said Louise,
+pouring out a fresh cup of tea, and changing it for the one cooling on
+the tray.
+
+"Why don't you take up auntie's breakfast as you always do!  You know
+she doesn't like it sent up."
+
+Louise made no reply to her brother, but turned to Pradelle.
+
+"You will excuse me for a few minutes, Mr Pradelle," she said, as she
+rose.
+
+"Excuse--you?" he replied, with a peculiar smile; and, rising in turn,
+he managed so badly as he hurried to the door to open it for Louise's
+passage with the tray, that he and Liza, bent on the same errand, came
+into collision.
+
+"Thank you, Mr Pradelle," said Louise, quietly, as she passed out with
+the tray, and Liza gave him an indignant glance as she closed the door.
+
+"Ha, ha!  What a bungle!" cried Harry mockingly, as he helped himself to
+more ham.
+
+George Vine was absorbed once more in the study of the _Beloe_.
+
+"Never you mind, my lord the count," said Pradelle in an undertone; "I
+don't see that you get on so very well."
+
+Harry winced.
+
+"What are you going to do this morning?"
+
+"Fish."
+
+"Humph! well to be you," said Harry, with a vicious bite at his bread,
+while his father was too much absorbed in his study even to hear.
+"You're going loafing about, and I've got to go and turn that
+grindstone."
+
+"Which you can leave whenever you like," said Pradelle meaningly.
+
+"Hold your tongue!" cried Harry roughly, as the door re-opened, and
+Louise, looking slightly flushed, again took her place at the table.
+
+"Aunt poorly?" said Vine.
+
+"Oh, no, papa; she is having her breakfast now."
+
+"If you're too idle to take up auntie's breakfast, I'll take it," said
+Harry severely.  "Don't send it up by that girl again."
+
+"I shall always take it myself, Harry," said Louise quietly.
+
+The breakfast was ended; George Vine went to his study to feed his
+sea-anemones on chopped whelk; Pradelle made an excuse about fishing
+lines, after reading plainly enough that his presence was unwelcome; and
+Harry stood with his hands in his pockets, looking on as his sister put
+away the tea-caddy.
+
+"Will you not be late, Harry?"
+
+"Perhaps," he said, ill-humouredly.  "I shall be there as soon as old
+bottle-nose I dare say."
+
+"How long is Mr Pradelle going to stay?"
+
+"Long as I like."
+
+There was a pause.  Then Harry continued.  "He's a friend of mine, a
+gentleman, and Aunt Marguerite likes him to stay."
+
+"Yes," said Louise gravely.  "Aunt Marguerite seems to like him."
+
+"And so do you, only you're such a precious coquette."
+
+Louise raised her eyebrows.  This was news to her, but she said nothing.
+
+"The more any one sees of Pradelle the more one likes him.  Deal nicer
+fellow than that Scotch prig Leslie."
+
+There was a slight flush on Louise Vine's face, but she did not speak,
+merely glanced at the clock.
+
+"All right: I'm not going yet."
+
+Then, changing his manner--
+
+"Oh, Lou, you can't think what a life it is," he cried impetuously.
+
+"Why, Harry, it ought to be a very pleasant one."
+
+"What, with your nose over an account book, and every time you happen to
+look up, old Crampton staring at you as much as to say, `Why don't you
+go on?'"
+
+"Never mind, dear.  Try and think that it is for your good."
+
+"For my good!" he said with a mocking laugh.
+
+"Yes, and to please father.  Why, Harry dear, is it not something to
+have a chance to redeem your character?"
+
+"Redeem my grandmother!  I've never lost it.  Why, Lou, it's too bad.
+Here's father rich as a Jew, and Uncle Luke with no end of money."
+
+"Has he, Harry?" said Louise thoughtfully.  "Really I don't know."
+
+"I'm sure he has--lots.  A jolly old miser, and no one to leave it to;
+and I don't see then why I should be ground down to work like an
+errand-boy."
+
+"Don't make a sentimental grievance of it, dear, but go and do your duty
+like a man."
+
+"If I do my duty like a man I shall go and try to recover the French
+estates which my father neglects."
+
+"No, don't do that, dear; go and get my old school spelling-book and
+read the fable of the dog and the shadow."
+
+"There you go, sneering again.  You women can't understand a fellow.
+Here am I worried to death for money, and have to drudge as old Van
+Heldre's clerk."
+
+"Worried for money, Harry?  What nonsense!"
+
+"I am.  You don't know.  I say, Lou dear."
+
+"Now, Harry! you will be so late."
+
+"I won't go at all if you don't listen to me.  Look here; I want fifty
+pounds."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Never mind.  Will you lend it to me?"
+
+"But what can you want with fifty pounds, Harry?  You're not in debt?"
+
+"You've got some saved up.  Now, lend it to me, there's a good girl;
+I'll pay you again, honour bright."
+
+"Harry, I've lent you money till I'm tired of lending, and you never do
+pay me back."
+
+"But I will this time."
+
+Louise shook her head.
+
+"What, you don't believe me?"
+
+"I believe you would pay me again if you had the money; but if I lent it
+you would spend it, and be as poor as ever in a month."
+
+"Not this time, Lou.  Lend it to me."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Then hang me if I don't go and ask Duncan Leslie."
+
+"Harry!  No; you would not degrade yourself to that."
+
+"Will you lend it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I will ask him.  The poor fool will think it will please you, and
+lend it directly.  I'll make it a hundred whilst I'm about it."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"Too late now," he cried, and he hurried away.
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated Louise, as she stood gazing after him with her cheeks
+burning.
+
+"No," she said, after a pause; "it was only a threat; he would not
+dare."
+
+"Harry gone to his office?" said Vine, entering the room.  "Yes, dear."
+
+"Mr Pradelle gone too?"
+
+"Yes, dear; fishing, I think."
+
+"Hum.  Makes this house quite his home."
+
+"Yes, papa; and do you think we are doing right?"
+
+"Eh?" said Vine sharply, as he dragged his mind back from where it had
+gone under a tide-covered rock.  "Oh, I see, about having that young man
+here.  Well, Louie, it's like this: I don't want to draw the rein too
+tightly.  Harry is at work now, and keeping to it.  Van Heldre says his
+conduct is very fair.  Harry likes Mr Pradelle, and they are old
+companions, so I feel disposed to wink at the intimacy, so long as our
+boy keeps to his business."
+
+"Perhaps you are right, dear," said Louise.
+
+"You don't like Mr Pradelle, my dear?"
+
+"No, I do not."
+
+"No fear of his robbing me of you, eh?"
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+"That's right; that's right; and look here, as we're talking about that
+little thing which makes the world go round, please understand this, and
+help me, my dear.  There's to be no nonsense between Harry and
+Madelaine."
+
+"Then you don't like Madelaine?"
+
+"Eh?  What?  Not like her?  Bless her!  You've almost cause to be
+jealous, only you need not be, for I've room in my heart for both of
+you.  I love her too well to let her be made uncomfortable by our family
+scapegrace.  Dear me!  I'm sure that it has."
+
+"Have you lost anything, dear?"
+
+"Yes, a glass stopper.  Perhaps I left it in my room.  Mustn't lose it;
+stoppers cost money."
+
+"And here's some money of yours, father."
+
+"Eh?  Oh, that change."
+
+"Twenty-five shillings."
+
+"Put it on the chimney-piece, my clear; I'll take it presently.  We will
+not be hard on Harry.  Let him have his companion.  We shall get him
+round by degrees.  Ah, here comes some one to tempt you away."
+
+In effect Madelaine was passing the window on her way to the front
+entrance; but Vine forgot all about his glass stopper for the moment,
+and threw open the glass door.
+
+"Come in here, my clear," he said.  "We were just talking about you."
+
+"About me, Mr Vine?  Whatever were you saying?"
+
+"Slander of course, of course."
+
+"My father desired to be kindly remembered, and I was to say, `Very
+satisfactory so far?'"
+
+"Very satisfactory so far?" said Vine dreamily.
+
+"He said you would know what it meant."
+
+"To be sure--to be sure.  Louie, my dear, I'm afraid your aunt is right.
+My brain is getting to be like that of a jelly-fish."
+
+He nodded laughingly and left the room.
+
+"Did you meet Harry as you came?" said Louise, as soon as they were
+alone.
+
+"Yes; but he kept on one side of the street, and I was on the other."
+
+"Didn't he cross over to speak?"
+
+"No; he couldn't see the Dutch fraulein--the Dutch doll."
+
+"Oh, that's cruel, Maddy.  I did not think my aunt's words could sting
+you."
+
+"Well, sometimes I don't think they do, but at others they seem to
+rankle.  But look, isn't that Mr Pradelle coming?"
+
+For answer Louise caught her friend's hand to hurry her out of the room
+before Pradelle entered.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XI.
+
+AUNT MARGUERITE STUDIES A COMEDY.
+
+That morning after breakfast Aunt Marguerite sat by her open window in
+her old-fashioned French _peignoir_.
+
+She saw Pradelle go out, and she smiled and beamed as he turned to look
+up at her window, and raised his hat before proceeding down into the
+back lanes of the port to inveigle an urchin into the task of obtaining
+for him a pot of ragworms for bait.
+
+Soon after she saw her nephew go out, but he did not raise his head.  On
+the contrary, he bent it down, and heaved up his shoulders like a wet
+sailor, as he went on to his office.
+
+"_Mon pauvre enfant_!" she murmured, as she half closed her eyes, and
+kissed the tips of her fingers.  "But wait a while, Henri, _mon enfant_,
+and all shall be well."
+
+There was a lapse of time devoted to thought, and then Aunt Marguerite's
+eyes glistened with malice, as she saw Madelaine approach.
+
+"Pah!" she ejaculated softly.  "This might be Amsterdam or the Boompjes.
+Wretched Dutch wench!  How can George tolerate her presence here!"
+
+Then Pradelle came back, but he did not look up this time, merely went
+to the door and entered, his eyes looking searchingly about as if in
+search of Louise.
+
+Lastly, a couple of particularly unseamanlike men, dressed in shiny
+tarpaulin hats and pea-jackets, with earrings and very smooth pomatumy
+hair, came into sight.  Each man carried a pack and a big stick, and as
+they drew near their eyes wandered over window and door in a
+particularly searching way.
+
+They did not come to the front, but in a slouching, furtive way went
+past the front of the house and round to the back, where the next minute
+there was a low tapping made by the knob of a stick on a door, and soon
+after a buzzing murmur of voices arose.
+
+Aunt Marguerite had nothing whatever to do, and the murmur interested
+her to the extent of making her rise, go across her room, and through a
+door at the back into her bed-chamber, where an open lattice window had
+a chair beneath, and the said window being just over the back entrance
+from whence the murmur came, Aunt Marguerite had nothing to do but go
+and sit down there unseen, and hear every word that was said.
+
+"Yes," said the familiar voice of brown-faced, black-haired Liza;
+"they're beautiful, but I haven't got the money."
+
+"That there red ribbon 'd just soot you, my lass," said a deep voice, so
+fuzzy that it must have come from under a woollen jacket.
+
+"Just look at that there hankychy, too," said another deep voice.  "Did
+you ever see a better match?"
+
+"Never," said the other deep voice emphatically.
+
+"Yes, they're very lovely, but I ain't got the money.  I let mother have
+all I had this week."
+
+"Never mind the gashly money, my lass," said the first deep-voiced man
+huskily, "ain'tcher got nothing you can sell?"
+
+Then arose a good deal of murmuring whisper, and Aunt Marguerite's lips
+became like a pale pink line drawn across the lower part of her face,
+and both her eyes were closely shut.
+
+"Well, you wait," was the concluding sentence of the whispered trio, and
+then the door was heard to shut.
+
+The click of a latch rose to where Aunt Marguerite sat, and then there
+was a trio once again--a whispered trio--ending with a little rustling,
+and the sound of heavy steps.
+
+Then the door closed, and Liza, daughter of Poll Perrow, the fish-woman,
+who carried a heavy maund by the help of a strap across her forehead,
+hurried up to her bedroom, and threw herself upon her knees as she
+spread two or three yards of brilliant red ribbon on the bed, and
+tastefully placed beside the ribbon an orange silk kerchief, whose
+united colours made her dark eyes sparkle with delight.
+
+The quick ringing of a bell put an end to the colour-worship, and Liza,
+with a hasty ejaculation, opened her box, thrust in her new treasures,
+dropped the lid, and locked it again before hurrying down to the
+dining-room, where she found her young mistress, her master, and
+Madelaine Van Heldre.
+
+"There was some change on the chimney-piece, Liza," said Louise.  "Did
+you see it?"
+
+"No, miss."
+
+"It is very strange.  You are quite sure you did not take it, papa?"
+
+"Quite, my clear."
+
+"That will do, Liza."
+
+The girl went out, looking scared.
+
+"It is very strange," said Vine.
+
+"Yes, clear; and it is a great trouble to me.  This is the third time
+money has been missing lately.  I don't like to suspect people, but one
+seems to be forced."
+
+"But surely, Louie, dear, that poor girl would not take it."
+
+"I have always tried to hope not, Maddy," said Louise sadly.
+
+"You had better make a change."
+
+"Send her away, father?  How can I do that?  How can I recommend her for
+another situation?"
+
+"Ah! it's a puzzle--it's a puzzle," said Vine irritably.  "One of the
+great difficulties of domestic service.  I shall soon begin to think
+that your Uncle Luke is right after all.  He has no troubles, eh,
+Louise?"
+
+She looked up in his face with a peculiar smile, but made no reply.  Her
+father, however, seemed to read her look, and continued,
+
+"Ah, well, I dare say you are right, my dear; we can't get away from
+trouble; and if we don't have one kind we have another.  Get more than
+our share, though, in this house."
+
+Louise smiled in his face, and the comical aspect of chagrin displayed
+resulted in a general laugh.
+
+"Is one of the sea-anemones dead?"
+
+"Yes, confound it! and it has poisoned the water, so that I am afraid
+the rest will go."
+
+"I think we can get over that trouble," said Louise, laughing.  "It will
+be an excuse for a pleasant ramble with you."
+
+"Yes," said Vine dryly, "but we shall not get over the trouble of the
+thief quite so well.  I'm afraid these Perrows are a dishonest family.
+I'll speak to the girl."
+
+"No, father, leave it to me."
+
+"Very well, my child; but I think you ought to speak."
+
+The old man left the room, the bell was rung, and Liza summoned, when a
+scene of tears and protestations arose, resulting in a passionate
+declaration that Liza would tell her mother, that she would not stop in
+a house where she was going to be suspected, and that she had never
+taken anybody's money but her own.
+
+"This is the third time that I have missed money, Liza, or I would not
+have spoken.  If you took it, confess like a good girl, and we'll
+forgive you if you promise never to take anything of the kind again."
+
+"I can't confess, miss, and won't confess," sobbed the girl.  "Mother
+shall come and speak to you.  I wouldn't do such a thing."
+
+"Where did you get the money with which you bought the red ribbon and
+orange kerchief this morning, Liza?" said a voice at the door.
+
+All started to see that Aunt Marguerite was there looking on, and
+apparently the recipient of all that had been said.
+
+Liza stood with eyes dilated, and jaw dropped.
+
+"Then you've been at my box," she suddenly exclaimed.  "All, what a
+shame!"
+
+"At your box, you wretched creature!" said Aunt Marguerite
+contemptuously.  "Do you suppose I should go into your room?"
+
+"You've been opening my box," said the girl again, more angrily; "and
+it's a shame."
+
+"I saw her take them up to her room, Louise.  My dear, she was buying
+them under my window, of some pedlar.  You had better send her away."
+
+Liza did not wait to be sent away from the room, but ran out sobbing, to
+hurry up-stairs to her bed-chamber, open her box, and see if the
+brilliant specimens of silken fabric were safe, and then cry over them
+till they were blotched with her tears.
+
+"A bad family," said Aunt Marguerite.  "I'm quite sure that girl stole
+my piece of muslin lace, and gave it to that wretched woman your Uncle
+Luke encourages."
+
+"No, no, aunt, you lost that piece of lace one day when you were out."
+
+"Nonsense, child! your memory is not good.  Who is that with you?  Oh, I
+see; Miss Van Heldre."
+
+Aunt Marguerite, after suddenly becoming aware of the presence of
+Madelaine, made a most ceremonious curtsy, and then sailed out of the
+room.
+
+"Louise must be forced to give up the companionship of that wretched
+Dutch girl," she said as she reached her own door, at which she paused
+to listen to Liza sobbing.
+
+"I wonder what Miss Vine would have been like," thought Madelaine, "if
+she had married some good sensible man, and had a large family to well
+employ her mind?"  Then she asked herself what kind of man she would
+have selected as possessing the necessary qualifications, and concluded
+that he should have been such a man as Duncan Leslie, and wondered
+whether he would marry her friend.
+
+"Why, Madelaine," said Louise, breaking her chain of thought, "what are
+you thinking about?"
+
+"Thinking about?" said the girl, starting, and colouring slightly.  "Oh,
+I was thinking about Mr Leslie just then."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XII.
+
+UNCLE LUKE'S SPARE CASH.
+
+"Late again," said old Crampton, as Harry Vine entered the office.
+
+"How I do hate the sight of that man's nose!" said the young man; and he
+stared hard, as if forced by some attraction.
+
+The old clerk frowned, and felt annoyed.  "I beg pardon," he said.
+
+"Granted," said Harry, coolly.
+
+"I said I beg pardon, Mr Harry Vine."
+
+"I heard you."
+
+"But I thought you spoke."
+
+"No," grumbled Harry; "I didn't speak."
+
+"Then I will," said old Crampton merrily.  "Good morning, Mr Harry
+Vine," and he rattled the big ruler by his desk.
+
+"Eh? oh, yes, I see.  Didn't say it as I came in.  Good morning, Mr
+Crampton."
+
+"Lesson for the proud young upstart in good behaviour," grumbled old
+Crampton.
+
+"Bother him!" muttered Harry, as he took his place at his desk, opened a
+big account book Crampton placed before him, with some amounts to
+transfer from one that was smaller, and began writing.
+
+But as he wrote, the figures seemed to join hands and dance before him;
+then his pen ceased to form others, and an imaginary picture painted
+itself on the delicately tinted blue paper with its red lines--a
+pleasant landscape in fair France with sunny hill-sides on which ranged
+in rows were carefully cultured vines.  To the north and east were
+softened bosky woods, and dominating all, one of those antique
+castellated chateaus, with pepper-box towers and gilded vanes, such as
+he had seen in pictures or read of in some books.
+
+"If I only had the money," thought Harry, as he entered a sum similar to
+that which Pradelle had named.  "He knows all these things.  He has good
+advice from friends, and if we won--Hah!"
+
+The chateau rose before his eyes again, bathed in sunshine.  Then he
+pictured the terrace overlooking the vineyards--a grey old stone
+terrace, with many seats and sheltering trees, and along that terrace
+walked just such a maiden as Aunt Marguerite had described.
+
+_Scratch! scratch! scratch! scratch_!  His pen and Crampton's pen; and
+he had no money, and Pradelle's project to borrow as he had suggested
+was absurd.
+
+Ah, if he only had eighty-one pounds ten shillings and sixpence! the sum
+he now placed in neat figures in their appropriate columns.
+
+Old Crampton tilted back his tall stool, swung himself round, and
+lowered himself to the ground.  Then crossing the office, he went into
+Van Heldre's private room, and there was the rattle of a key, a creaking
+hinge, as an iron door was swung open; and directly after the old man
+returned.
+
+Harry Vine could not see his hands, and he did not raise his eyes to
+watch the old clerk, but in the imagination which so readily pictured
+the chateau that was not in Spain, he seemed to see as he heard every
+movement of the fat, white fingers, when a canvas bag was clumped down
+on the mahogany desk, the string untied, and a little heap of coins were
+poured out.  Then followed the scratching of those coins upon the
+mahogany, as they were counted, ranged in little piles, and finally,
+after an entry had been checked, they were replaced in the bag, which
+the old man bore back into the safe in the private room.
+
+"Fifty or a hundred pounds," said Harry to himself, as a curious
+sensation of heat came into his cheeks, to balance which there seemed to
+be a peculiarly cold thrill running up his spine, to the nape of his
+neck.  "Anybody at home?"
+
+"Yes, sir; here we are, hard at work."  Harry had looked up sharply to
+see Uncle Luke standing in the opening, a grim-looking grey figure in
+his old Norfolk jacket and straw hat, one hand resting on his heavy
+stick, the other carrying a battered fish-basket.  The old man's face
+was in shadow, for the sunshine streamed in behind him, but there was
+plenty of light to display his grim, sardonic features, as, after a
+short nod to Crampton, he gazed from under his shaggy brows piercingly
+at his nephew.
+
+"Well, quill-driver," he said, sneeringly; "doing something useful at
+last?"
+
+"Morning, uncle," said Harry shortly; and he muttered to himself, "I
+should like to throw the ledger at him."
+
+"Hope he's a good boy, hey?"
+
+"Oh, he's getting on, Mr Luke Vine--slowly," said Crampton unwillingly.
+"He'll do better by and by."
+
+A sharp remark was on Harry's lips, but he checked it for a particular
+reason.  Uncle Luke might have the money he wanted.
+
+"Time he did," said the old man.  "Look here, boy," he continued, with
+galling, sneering tone in his voice.  "Go and tell your master I want to
+see him."
+
+Harry drew a long breath, and his teeth gritted together.
+
+"I caught a splendid conger this morning," continued Uncle Luke, giving
+his basket a swing, "and I've brought your master half."
+
+"My master!" muttered Harry.  "Like conger-pie, boy?"
+
+"No," said Harry, shortly.  "More nice than wise," said Uncle Luke.
+"Always were.  There, be quick.  I want to see your master."
+
+"To see my master," thought Harry, with a strange feeling of
+exasperation in his breast as he looked up at Crampton.
+
+Crampton was looking up at him with eyes which said very clearly, "Well,
+why don't you go?"
+
+"They'll make me an errand-boy next," said the young man to himself, as,
+after twisting his locket round and round like a firework, he swung
+himself down, "and want me to clean the knives and boots and shoes."
+
+"Tell him I'm in a hurry," said Uncle Luke, as Harry reached the door
+which led into the private house along a passage built and covered with
+glass, by one side of what was originally a garden.
+
+"Ah," said Uncle Luke, going closer to old Crampton's desk, and taking
+down from where it rested on two brass hooks, the heavy ebony ruler.
+"Nice bit o' wood that."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the old clerk, in the fidgety way of a workman who
+objects to have his tools touched.
+
+"Pretty weighty," continued Uncle Luke, balancing it in his hand.  "Give
+a man a pretty good topper that, eh?"
+
+"Yes, Mr Luke Vine.--I should like to give him one with it," thought
+Crampton.
+
+"Do for a constable's staff, or to kill burglars, eh?"
+
+"Capitally, sir."
+
+"Hah!  You don't get burglars here, though, do you?"
+
+"No, sir; never had any yet."
+
+"Good job too," said Uncle Luke, putting the ruler back in its place,
+greatly to Crampton's relief.  "Rather an awkward cub to lick into
+shape, my nephew, eh?"
+
+"Rather, sir."
+
+"Well, you must lick away, Crampton--not with that ruler though," he
+chuckled.  "Time something was made of him--not a bad sort of boy; but
+spoiled."
+
+"I shall do my best, Mr Luke Vine," said Crampton dryly; "but I must
+tell you candidly, sir, he's too much of the gentleman for us, and he
+feels it."
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"Not at all the sort of young man I should have selected for a clerk."
+
+"Never mind; make the best of him."
+
+"Mr Van Heldre is coming, sir," said Harry coldly, as he re-entered the
+office.
+
+"Bah!  I didn't tell you to bring him here.  I want to go in there."
+
+As Luke Vine spoke, he rose and moved to the door.
+
+"Be a good boy," he said, turning with a peculiar smile at his nephew.
+"I dare say you'll get on."
+
+"Oh!" muttered Harry, as he retook his place at his desk, "how I should
+like to tell you, Uncle Luke, just what I think."
+
+The door closed behind the old man, who had nearly reached the end of
+the long passage, when he met Van Heldre.
+
+"Ah, Luke Vine, I was just coming."
+
+"Go back," said the visitor, making a stab at the merchant with his
+stick.  "Brought you something.  Where's Mrs Van Heldre?"
+
+"In the breakfast-room.  Come along."
+
+Van Heldre clapped the old man on the shoulder, and led him into the
+room where Mrs Van Heldre was seated at work.
+
+"Ah, Mr Luke Vine," she cried, "who'd have thought of seeing you?"
+
+"Not you.  How are you?  Where's the girl?"
+
+"Gone up to your brother's."
+
+"Humph! to gad about and idle with Louie, I suppose.  Here, I've brought
+you some fish.  Caught it at daylight this morning.  Ring for a dish."
+
+"It's very kind and thoughtful of you, Luke Vine," said Mrs Van Heldre,
+with her pink face dimpling as she rang the bell, and then trotted to
+the door, which she opened, and cried, "Bring in a large dish, Esther!
+I always like to save the servants' legs if I can," she continued as she
+returned to her seat, while Van Heldre stood with his hands in his
+pockets, waiting.  He knew his visitor.
+
+Just then a neat-looking maid-servant entered with a large blue dish,
+and stood holding it by the door, gazing at the quaint-looking old man,
+sitting with the basket between his legs, and his heavy stick resting
+across his knees.
+
+"Put it down and go."
+
+The girl placed the dish on the table hurriedly, and left the room.
+
+"See if she has gone."
+
+"No fear," said Van Heldre, obeying, to humour his visitor.  "I don't
+think my servants listen at doors."
+
+"Don't trust 'em, or anybody else," said Uncle Luke with a grim look, as
+he opened his basket wide.  "Going to trust her?"
+
+"Well, I'm sure, Mr Luke Vine!" cried Mrs Van Heldre, "I believe you
+learn up rude things to say."
+
+"He can't help it," said Van Heldre, laughing.  "Yes," he continued,
+with a droll look at his wife, which took her frown away, "I think we'll
+trust her, Luke, my lad--as far as the fish is concerned."
+
+"Eh!  What?" said Uncle Luke, snatching his hands from his basket.
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That the dish is waiting for the bit of conger."
+
+"Let it wait," said the old man snappishly.  "You're too clever, Van--
+too clever.  Look here; how are you getting on with that boy?"
+
+"Oh, slowly.  Rome was not built in a day."
+
+"No," chuckled the old man, "no.  Work away, and make him a useful
+member of society--like his aunt, eh, Mrs Van."
+
+"Useful!" cried Mrs Van.  "Ah."
+
+Then old Luke chuckled, and drew the fish from the basket.
+
+"Fine one, ain't it?" he said.
+
+"A beauty," cried Mrs Van Heldre ecstatically.
+
+"Pshah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke.  "Ma'am, you don't care for it a bit;
+but there's more than I want, and it will help keep your servants."
+
+"It would, Luke," said Van Heldre, laughing, as the fish was laid in the
+dish, "but they will not touch it.  Well?"
+
+"Eh?  What do you mean by well?" snorted the old man with a suspicious
+look.
+
+"Out with it."
+
+"Out with what?"
+
+"What you have brought."
+
+The two men gazed in each other's faces, the merchant looking half
+amused, the visitor annoyed; but his dry countenance softened into a
+smile, and he turned to Mrs Van Heldre.  "Artful!" he said dryly.
+"Don't you find him too cunning to get on with?"
+
+"I should think not indeed," said Mrs Van Heldre indignantly.
+
+"Might have known you'd say that," sneered Uncle Luke.  "What a weak,
+foolish woman you are!"
+
+"Yes, I am, thank goodness!  I wish you'd have a little more of my
+foolishness in you, Mr Luke Vine.  There, I beg your pardon.  What have
+you got there, shrimps?"
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Luke grimly, as he brought a brown paper parcel from
+the bottom of his basket, where it had lain under the wet piece of
+conger, whose stain was on the cover, "some nice crisp fresh shrimps.
+Here, Van--catch."
+
+He threw the packet to his brother's old friend and comrade, by whom it
+was deftly caught, while Mrs Van Heldre looked on in a puzzled way.
+
+"Put 'em in your safe till I find another investment for 'em.  Came down
+by post this morning, and I don't like having 'em at home.  Out fishing
+so much."
+
+"How much is there?" said Van Heldre, opening the fishy brown paper, and
+taking therefrom sundry crisp new Bank of England notes.
+
+"Five hundred and fifty," said Uncle Luke.  "Count 'em over."
+
+This was already being done, Van Heldre having moistened a finger and
+begun handling the notes in regular bank-clerk style.
+
+"All right; five fifty," he said.
+
+"And he said they were shrimps," said Mrs Van Heldre.
+
+"Eh?  I did?" said Uncle Luke with a grim look and a twinkle of the eye.
+"Nonsense, it must have been you."
+
+"Look here, Luke Vine," said Van Heldre; "is it any use to try and teach
+you at your time of life?"
+
+"Not a bit: so don't try."
+
+"But why expose yourself to all this trouble and risk?  Why didn't your
+broker send you a cheque?"
+
+"Because I wouldn't let him."
+
+"Why not have a banking account, and do all your money transactions in
+an ordinary way?"
+
+"Because I like to do things in my own way.  I don't trust bankers, nor
+anybody else."
+
+"Except my husband," said Mrs Van Heldre, beaming.
+
+"Nonsense, ma'am, I don't trust him a bit.  You do as I tell you, Van.
+Put those notes in your safe till I ask you for them.  I had that bit of
+money in a company I doubted, so I sold out.  I shall put it in
+something else soon."
+
+"You're a queer fellow, Luke."
+
+"Eh?  I'm not the only one of my family, am I?  What's to become of
+brother George when that young scapegrace has ruined him?  What's to
+become of Louie, when we're all dead and buried, and out of all this
+worry and care?  What's to become of my mad sister, who squandered her
+money on a French scamp, and made what she calls her heart bankrupt?"
+
+"Nearly done questioning?" said Van Heldre, doubling the notes longwise.
+
+"No, I haven't, and don't play with that money as if it was your wife's
+curl-papers."
+
+Van Heldre shrugged his shoulders, and placed the notes in his pocket.
+
+"And as I was saying when your husband interrupted me so rudely, Mrs
+Van Heldre, what's to become of that boy by and by?  Money's useful
+sometimes, though I don't want it myself."
+
+"All! you needn't look at me, Mr Luke Vine.  It's of no use for you to
+pretend to be a cynic with me."
+
+"Never pretend anything, ma'am," said Uncle Luke, rising; "and don't be
+rude.  I did mean to come in and have some conger-pie to-night; now I
+won't."
+
+"No, you didn't mean to do anything of the sort, Luke Vine," said Mrs
+Van Heldre tartly; "I know you better than that.  If I've asked you to
+come and have a bit of dinner with us like a Christian once I've asked
+you five hundred times, and one might just as well ask the hard rock."
+
+"Just as well, ma'am; just as well.  There, I'm going.  Take care of
+that money, Van.  I shall think out a decent investment one of these
+days."
+
+"When you want it there it is," said Van Heldre quietly.
+
+"Hope it will be.  And now look here: I want to know a little more about
+the Count."
+
+"The Count?" said Mrs Van Heldre.
+
+"My nephew, ma'am.  And I hope you feel highly honoured at having so
+distinguished a personage in your husband's service."
+
+"What does he mean, dear?"
+
+"Mean, ma'am?  Why, you know how his aunt has stuffed his head full of
+nonsense about French estates."
+
+"Oh! that, and the old title," cried Mrs Van Heldre.  "There, don't say
+any more about it, for if there is anything that worries me, it's all
+that talk about French descents."
+
+"Why, hang it, ma'am, you don't think your husband is a Frenchman, and
+that my sister, who has made it all the study of her life, is wrong?"
+
+"I don't know and I don't care whether my husband's a Dutchman or a
+double Dutchman by birth; all I know is he's a very good husband to me
+and a good father to his child; and I thank God, Mr Luke Vine, every
+night that things are just as they are; so that's all I've got to say."
+
+"Tut--tut! tut--tut!  This is all very dreadful, Van," said Uncle Luke,
+fastening his basket, and examining his old straw hat to see which was
+the best side to wear in front; "I can't stand any more of this.  Here,
+do you want a bit of advice?"
+
+"Yes, if it's good."
+
+"Ah!  I was forgetting: about the Count.  Keep the curb tight and keep
+him in use."
+
+"I shall do both, Luke, for George's sake," said Van Heldre warmly.
+
+"Good, lad!--I mean, more fool you!" said Uncle Luke, stumping out after
+ignoring extended hands and giving each a nod.  "That's all."
+
+He left the room, closing the door after him as loudly as he could
+without the shock being considered a bang; and directly after the front
+door was served in the same way, and they saw him pass the window.
+
+"Odd fish, Luke," said Van Heldre.
+
+"Odd!  I sometimes think he's half mad."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear; no more mad than Hamlet.  Here he is again."
+
+For the old man had come back, and was tapping the window-frame with his
+stick.
+
+"What's the matter?" said Van Heldre, throwing open the window, when
+Uncle Luke thrust in the basket he carried and his stick, resting his
+arms on the window-sill.
+
+"Don't keep that piece of conger in this hot room all the morning," he
+said, pointing with his stick.
+
+"Why, goodness me, Luke Vine, how can you talk like that?" cried Mrs
+Van Heldre indignantly.
+
+"Easy enough, ma'am.  Forgot my bit of advice," said Uncle Luke,
+speaking to his old friend, but talking at Mrs Van Heldre.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Send that girl of yours to a boarding-school."
+
+"Bless my heart, Luke Vine, what for?" cried the lady of the house.
+"Why, she finished two years ago."
+
+"To keep her out of the way of George Vine's stupid boy, and because her
+mother's spoiling her.  Morning."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XIII.
+
+TO REAP THE WIND.
+
+Late dinner was nearly over--at least late according to the ideas of the
+West-country family, who sat down now directly Harry returned from his
+office work.  Aunt Marguerite, after a week in her bedroom, had come
+down that day, the trouble with Liza exciting her; and that maiden had
+rather an unpleasant time as she waited at table, looking red-eyed and
+tearful, for Aunt Marguerite watched her with painful, basilisk-like
+glare all through the meal, the consequence being a series of mishaps
+and blunders, ending with the spilling of a glass dish of clotted cream.
+
+With old-fashioned politeness, Aunt Marguerite tried to take Pradelle's
+attention from the accident.
+
+"Are you going for a walk this evening, Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"Yes," he said; "I dare say we shall smoke a cigar together after the
+labours of the day."
+
+Aunt Marguerite sighed and looked pained.
+
+"Tobacco!  Yes, Mr Pradelle," she sighed; and she continued, in a low
+tone, "Do pray try to use your influence on poor Henri, to coax him from
+these bad pursuits."
+
+Harry was talking cynically to his sister and Madelaine, who had been
+pressed by Vine to stay, a message having been sent down to the Van
+Heldres to that effect.
+
+"The old story," he said to himself; and then, as he caught his sister's
+eye after she had gazed uneasily in the direction of her aunt; "yes,
+she's talking about me.  Surely you don't mind that."
+
+He, too, glanced now in Aunt Marguerite's direction, as Pradelle talked
+to her in a slow, impressive tone.
+
+"Ah! no," said Aunt Marguerite, in a playful whisper, "nothing of the
+kind.  A little boy and girl badinage in the past.  Look for yourself,
+Mr Pradelle; there is no warmth there!  My nephew cannot marry a Dutch
+doll."
+
+"Lovers' tiff, perhaps," said Pradelle.
+
+"No, no," said Aunt Marguerite, shaking her head confidently.  "Harry is
+a little wild and changeable, but he pays great heed to my words and
+advice.  Still I want your help, Mr Pradelle.  Human nature is weak.
+Harry must win back his French estates."
+
+"Hear that, Louie?" said Harry, for Aunt Marguerite had slightly raised
+her voice.
+
+"Yes, I heard," said Louise quietly.
+
+"Aunt is sick of seeing her nephew engaged in a beggarly trade."
+
+"For which Mr Henry Vine seems much too good," said Madelaine to
+herself, as she darted an indignant glance at the young man.  "Oh,
+Harry, what a weak, foolish boy you are!  I don't love you a bit.  It
+was all a mistake."
+
+"I hate business," continued Harry, as he encountered her eyes fixed
+upon him.
+
+"Yes," said Louise coldly, as an angry feeling of annoyance shot through
+her on her friend's behalf.  "Harry has no higher ambition than to lead
+a lap-dog kind of life in attendance upon Aunt Marguerite, and listening
+to her stories of middle-aged chivalry."
+
+"Thank goodness!" said Harry, as they rose from the table.  "_No_, no,
+aunt, I don't want any coffee.  I should stifle if I stopped here much
+longer."
+
+Aunt Marguerite frowned as the young man declined the invitation to come
+to her side.
+
+"Only be called a lap-dog again.  Here, Vic, let's go and have a cigar
+down by the sea."
+
+"Certainly," said Pradelle, smiling at all in turn.
+
+"Yes, the room is warm," said the host, who had hardly spoken all
+through the dinner, being deep in thought upon one of his last
+discoveries.
+
+Harry gave his sister a contemptuous look, which she returned with one
+half sorrowful, half pitying, from which he turned to glance at
+Madelaine, who was standing by her friend.
+
+Aunt Marguerite smiled, for there was certainly the germ of an incurable
+rupture between these two, and she turned away her head to hide her
+triumph.
+
+"She will never forgive him for speaking as he did about the beggarly
+trade."  Then crossing with a graceful old-world carriage, she laid her
+hand on Madelaine's arm.
+
+"Come into the drawing-room, my clear," she said, smiling, and to
+Madelaine it seemed that her bright, malicious-looking eyes were full of
+triumph.  "You and I will have a good hard fight over genealogies, till
+you confess that I am right, and that your father and you have no claim
+to Huguenot descent."
+
+"Oh no, Miss Vine," said the girl, laughing, "my father must fight his
+own battle.  As for me, I give up.  Perhaps you are right, and I am only
+a Dutch girl after all."
+
+"Oh, I wish we were back in London!" cried Harry as they strolled along
+towards the cliff walk.
+
+"Ah, this is a dead-and-alive place, and no mistake," said Pradelle.
+
+"Why don't you leave it, then?" said Harry sulkily.  "You are free."
+
+"_No_, I am not.  I don't like to see a friend going to the bad; and
+besides, I have your aunt's commission to try and save you from sinking
+down into a miserable tradesman."
+
+"Why don't you save me, then?"
+
+"That's just like you.  Look here, sink all cowardice, and go up to the
+old boy like a Trojan.  Plenty of money, hasn't he?"
+
+"I suppose so.  I don't know."
+
+"He's sure to have."
+
+"But he's such an old porcupine."
+
+"Never mind.  Suppose you do get a few pricks, what of that?  Think of
+the future."
+
+"But that venture must be all over now."
+
+"What of that?  You get the money and I can find a dozen ways of
+investing it.  Look here, Harry, you profess to be my friend, and to
+have confidence in my judgment, and yet you won't trust me."
+
+"I trusted you over several things, and see how I lost."
+
+"Come, that's unkind.  A man can't always win.  There, never look back,
+look forward.  Show some fight, and make one good plunge to get out of
+that miserable shop-boy sort of life."
+
+"Come along, then."
+
+"You'll go up and ask him?"
+
+"Yes, if you'll back me up."
+
+"Back you up, lad?  I should think I will.  Lead on, I'll follow thee."
+
+"We'll do it sensibly, then.  If you speak before Uncle Luke in that
+theatrical way we shall come down faster than we go up."
+
+"I'll talk to the old man like a young Solomon, and he shall say that
+never did youth choose more wisely for his friend than Harry Vine,
+otherwise Henri, Comte des Vignes."
+
+"Look here," said Harry peevishly--"`otherwise Comte des Vignes.'  Why
+don't you say _alias_ at once?  Why, if the old man heard that he'd want
+to know how long it was since you were in a police court.  Here, you'd
+better stay down here."
+
+"All right, my dear fellow.  Anything to help you on."
+
+"No; I'd rather you came too."
+
+There was a pause in a niche of the rocks, and then, after the
+scratching of a match, the young men went up the cliff-path, smoking
+furiously, as they prepared themselves for the attack.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XIV.
+
+DIOGENES IN HIS TUB.
+
+Uncle Luke was in very good spirits.  He had rid himself of his incubus,
+as he called the sum of money, and though he would not own it, he always
+felt better when he had had a little converse with his fellow-creatures.
+His lonely life was very miserable, and the more so that he insisted
+upon its being the highest form of happiness to exist in hermit fashion,
+as the old saints proved.
+
+The desolate hut in its rocky niche looked miserable when he climbed up
+back on his return from Van Heldre's, so he stopped by the granite wall
+and smiled.
+
+"Finest prospect in all Cornwall," he said, half aloud; "freshest air.
+Should like to blow up Leslie's works, though."
+
+The door was locked, but it yielded to the heavy key which secured it
+against visitors, though they were very rare upon that rocky shelf.
+
+He was the more surprised then, after his frugal mid-day meal, by a
+sharp rapping at the door, and on going he stared angrily at the two
+sturdy sailor-dressed pedlars, who were resting their packs on the low
+granite wall.
+
+"Can we sell a bit o' 'bacco, or a pound o' tea, master?" said the man
+who had won over Liza to the purchase of his coloured silk.
+
+"Bang!"
+
+That was Uncle Luke's answer as the man spoke to him and his fellow
+swept the interior of the cottage with one quick glance.
+
+"Steal as soon as sell any day," grumbled Uncle Luke.  "Tobacco and tea,
+indeed!"
+
+Outside one of the men gave his companion a wink and a laugh, as he
+shouldered his pack, while the other chuckled and followed his example.
+
+Meanwhile Uncle Luke had seated himself at his rough deal table, and
+written a long business letter to his lawyer in London.
+
+This missive he read over twice, made an addition to the paragraph
+dealing most particularly with the mortgage on which he had been invited
+to lend, and then carefully folded the square post-paper he used in
+old-fashioned letter shape, tucking one end into the other from objects
+of economy, so as to dispense with envelopes, but necessitating all the
+same the use of sealing-wax and a light.
+
+However, it pleased him to think that he was saving, and he lit a very
+thin candle, took the stick of red wax from a drawer, a curious
+old-fashioned signet gold ring bearing the family crest from a nail
+where it hung over the fireplace, and then, sitting down as if to some
+very important piece of business, he burned his wax, laid on a liberal
+quantity, and then impressed the seal.  This done, the ring was hung
+once more upon its nail, and the old man stood gazing at it and
+thinking.  The next minute he took down the ring, and slipped it on one
+of his fingers, and worked it up and down, trying it on another finger,
+and then going back to the first.
+
+"Used to fit too tightly," he said: "now one's fingers are little more
+than bone."
+
+He held up the ring to the light, his white hand looking very thin and
+wasted, and the worn gold glistened and the old engraved blood-stone
+showed its design almost as clearly as when it was first cut.
+
+"`Roy et Foy!'" muttered the old man, reading the motto beneath the
+crest.  "Bit of vanity.  Margaret asked where it was, last time I saw
+her.  Let's see; I lost you twice, once when I wore you as I was fishing
+off the pier, and once on the black rock you slipped off my bony finger,
+and each time the sea washed you into a crack."
+
+He smiled as he gazed at the ring, and there was a pleasant, handsome
+trace of what he had been as a young man in his refined features.
+
+"Please the young dog--old family ring," he muttered.  "Might sell it
+and make a pound.  No, he may have it when I'm gone.  Can't be so very
+long."
+
+He hung the ring upon the nail once more, and spent the rest of the
+afternoon gazing out to sea, sometimes running over the past, but more
+often looking out for the glistening and flashing of the sea beneath
+where a flock of gulls were hovering over some shoal of fish.
+
+It was quite evening when there was a staid, heavy step and the click of
+nailed boots as the old fish-woman came toiling up the cliff-path, her
+basket on her back, and the band which supported it across her brow.
+
+"Any fish to sell, Master Vine?" she said in a sing-song tone.  "I
+looked down the pier, but you weren't there."
+
+"How could I be there when I'm up here, Poll Perrow?"
+
+"Ah, to be sure; how could you?" said the old woman, trying to nod her
+head, but without performing the feat, on account of her basket.  "Got
+any fish to sell?"
+
+"No.  Yes," said the old man.  "That's right.  I want some to-night.
+Will you go and fetch it?"
+
+"Yes.  Stop there," said Uncle Luke sourly, as he saw a chance of making
+a few pence, and wondered whether he would get enough from his customer.
+
+"Mind my sitting down inside, Master Luke Vine, sir?  It's hot, and I'm
+tired; and it's a long way up here."
+
+"Why do you come, then?"
+
+"Wanted to say a few words to you about my gal when we've done our bit
+o' trade."
+
+"Come in and sit down, then," said the old man gruffly.  And his visitor
+slipped the leather band from her forehead, set her basket on the
+granite wall, and went into the kitchen-like room, wiping her brow as
+she seated herself in the old rush-bottomed chair.
+
+"I'll fetch it here," said Uncle Luke, and he went round to the back, to
+return directly with the second half of the conger.
+
+"There," said the old man eagerly, "how much for that?"
+
+"Oh, I can't buy half a conger, Mr Luke Vine, sir; and I don't know as
+I'd have took it if it had been whole."
+
+"Then be off, and don't come bothering me," grunted the old man
+snappishly.
+
+"Don't be cross, master; you've no call to be.  You never have no gashly
+troubles to worry you."
+
+"No, nor don't mean to have.  What's the matter now?"
+
+"My gal!"
+
+"Serve you right.  No business to have married.  You never saw me make
+such a fool of myself."
+
+"No, master, never; but when you've got gals you must do your best for
+'em."
+
+"Humph! what's the matter?"  Poll Perrow looked slowly round the
+ill-furnished, untidy place.
+
+"You want a woman here, Master Luke Vine, sir," she said at last.
+"Don't talk nonsense!"
+
+"It aren't nonsense, Master Luke Vine, and you know it.  You want your
+bed made proper, and your washing done, and your place scrubbed.  Now
+why don't you let my gal come up every morning to do these things?"
+
+"Look here," said Uncle Luke, "what is it you mean?"
+
+"She's got into a scrape at Mr Vine's, sir--something about some money
+being missing--and I suppose she'll have to come home, so I want to get
+her something to do."
+
+"Oh, she isn't honest enough for my brother's house, but she's honest
+enough for mine."
+
+"Oh, the gal's honest enough.  It's all a mistake.  But I can't afford
+to keep her at home, so, seeing as we'd had dealings together, I thought
+you'd oblige me and take her here."
+
+"Seeing as we'd had dealings together!" grumbled Uncle Luke.
+
+"Everything is so untidy-like, sir," said the old fish-dealer, looking
+round.  "Down at your brother's there's everything a gentleman could
+wish for, but as to your place--why, there: it's worse than mine."
+
+"Look here, Poll Perrow," said the old eccentricity fiercely, "this is
+my place, and I do in it just as I like.  I don't want your girl to come
+and tidy my place, and I don't want you to come and bother me, so be
+off.  There's a letter; take it down and post it for me: and there's a
+penny for your trouble."
+
+"Thank ye, master.  Penny saved is a penny got; but Mr George Vine
+would have given me sixpence--I'm not sure he wouldn't have given me a
+shilling.  Miss Louise would."
+
+Uncle Luke was already pointing at the door, towards which the woman
+moved unwillingly.
+
+"Let me come up to-morrow and ask you, Mr Luke, sir.  Perhaps you'll be
+in a better temper then."
+
+"Better temper!" he cried wrathfully.  "I'm always in a better temper.
+Because I refuse to ruin myself by having your great, idle girl to eat
+me out of house and home, I'm not in a good temper, eh?  There, be off!
+or I shall say something unpleasant."
+
+"I'm a-going, sir.  It's all because I wouldn't buy half a fish, as I
+should have had thrown on my hands, and been obliged to eat myself.
+Look here, sir," cried the woman, as she adjusted the strap of her
+basket, "if I buy the bit of fish will you take the poor gal then?"
+
+"No!" cried Uncle Luke, slamming the door, as the woman stood with her
+basket once more upon her back.
+
+"Humph!" exclaimed the old woman, as she thrust the penny in her pocket,
+and then hesitated as to where she should place the letter.
+
+While she was considering, the little window was opened and Uncle Luke's
+head appeared.
+
+"Mind you don't lose that letter."
+
+"Never you fear about that," said the old woman; and as if from a bright
+inspiration she pitched it over her head into her basket, and then
+trudged away.
+
+"She'll lose that letter as sure as fate," grunted Uncle Luke.  "Well,
+there's nothing in it to mind.  Now I suppose I can have a little peace,
+and--Who's this?"
+
+He leaned a little farther out of his window, so as to bring a curve of
+the cliff-path well into view.
+
+"My beautiful nephew and that parasite.  Going up to Leslie, I suppose--
+to smoke.  Waste and debauchery--smoking."
+
+He shut the window sharply, and settled himself down with his back to
+it, determined not to see his nephew pass; but five minutes later there
+was a sharp rapping at the door.
+
+"Uncle Luke!  Uncle!"
+
+The old man made no reply.
+
+"Here, Uncle Luke.  I know you're at home; the old woman said so."
+
+"Hang that old woman!" grumbled Uncle Luke; and in response to a fresh
+call he rose, and opened his door with a snatch.
+
+"Now then, what is it?  I'm just going to bed."
+
+"Bed at this time of the day?" cried Harry cheerfully.  "Why you
+couldn't go to sleep if you did go."
+
+"Why not?" snapped the old man; "you can in the mornings--over the
+ledger."
+
+Harry winced, but he turned off the malicious remark with a laugh.
+
+"Uncle loves his joke, Pradelle," he said.  "Come, uncle, I don't often
+visit you; ask us in."
+
+"No, you don't often visit me, Harry," said the old man, looking at him
+searchingly; "and when you do come it's because you want something."
+
+Harry winced again, for the old man's words cut deeply.
+
+"Oh, nonsense, uncle!  Pradelle and I were having a stroll, and we
+thought we'd drop in here and smoke a cigar with you."
+
+"Very kind," said the old man, looking meaningly from one to the other.
+"Missed meeting the girls, or have they snubbed you and sent you about
+your business?"
+
+"Have a cigar, uncle?" said Harry, holding out his case.  "I tell you we
+came on purpose to see you."
+
+"Humph!" said Uncle Luke, taking the handsome morocco cigar-case, and
+turning it over and over with great interest.  "How much did that cost?"
+
+"Don't remember now: fifteen shillings I think."
+
+"Ah," said Uncle Luke, pressing the snap and opening it.  "One, two,
+three, four; how much do these cigars cost?"
+
+"Only fourpence, uncle; can't afford better ones."
+
+"And a cigar lasts--how long?"
+
+"Oh, I make one last three-quarters of an hour, because I smoke very
+slowly.  Try one one."
+
+"No, thankye; can't afford such luxuries, my boy," said the old man,
+shutting the case with a snap, and returning it.  "That case and the
+cigars there cost nearly a pound.  Your income must be rising fast."
+
+Harry and Pradelle exchanged glances.  The reception did not promise
+well for a loan.  "Cigar does you good sometimes."
+
+"Harry," said the old man, laughing and pointing at the case.
+
+"What's the matter, uncle?" said Harry eagerly; "want one?"
+
+"No, no.  Why didn't you have it put on there?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Crest and motto, and your title--Comte des Vignes.  You might lose it,
+and then people would know where to take it."
+
+"Don't chaff a fellow, uncle," said Harry, colouring.  "Here, we may
+come and sit down, mayn't we?"
+
+"Oh, certainly, if your friend will condescend to take a seat in my
+homely place."
+
+"Only too happy, Mr Luke Vine."
+
+"Are you now?  Shouldn't have thought it," sneered the old man.  "No
+wine to offer you, sir; no brandy and soda; that's the stuff young men
+drink now, isn't it?"
+
+"Don't name it, my dear sir; don't name it," said Pradelle, with an
+attempt at heartiness that made the old man half close his eyes.  "Harry
+and I only came up for a stroll.  Besides, we've just dined."
+
+"Have you?  That's a good job, because I've only a bit of conger in the
+house, and that isn't cooked.  Come in and sit down, sir.  You, Harry,
+you'll have to sit down on that old oak chest."
+
+"Anywhere will do for me, uncle.  May we smoke?"
+
+"Oh, yes, as fast as you like; it's too slow a poison for you to die up
+here."
+
+"Hope so," said Harry, whose mission and the climb had made him very
+warm.
+
+"Now, then," said Uncle Luke, fixing his eyes on Pradelle--like gimlets,
+as that gentleman observed on the way back; "what is it?"
+
+"Eh?  I beg pardon; the business here is Harry's."
+
+"Be fair, Vic," said Harry, shortly; "the business appertains to both."
+
+"Does it really," said Uncle Luke, with a mock display of interest.
+
+"Yes, uncle," said the nephew, uneasily, as he sat twiddling the gold
+locket attached to his chain, and his voice sounded husky; "it relates
+to both."
+
+"Really!" said Uncle Luke, with provoking solemnity, as he looked from
+one to the other.  "Well, I was young myself once.  Now, look here; can
+I make a shrewd guess at what you want!"
+
+"I'll be bound to say you could, sir," said Pradelle, in despite of an
+angry look from Harry, who knew his uncle better, and foresaw a trap.
+
+"Then I'll guess," said the old man, smiling pleasantly; "you want some
+money."
+
+"Yes, uncle, you're right," said Harry, as cautiously as a fencer
+preparing for a thrust from an expert handler of the foils.
+
+"Hah!  I thought I was.  Well, young men always were so.  Want a little
+money to spend, eh?"
+
+"Well, uncle, I--"
+
+"Wait a minute, my boy," said the old man, seriously; "let me see.  I
+don't want to disappoint you and your friend as you've come all this
+way.  Your father wouldn't let you have any, I suppose?"
+
+"Haven't asked him, sir."
+
+"That's right, Harry," said the old man, earnestly; "don't, my boy,
+don't.  George always was close with his money.  Well, I'll see what I
+can do.  How much do you want to spend--a shilling?"
+
+"Hang it all, uncle!" cried Harry angrily, and nearly tearing off his
+locket, "don't talk to me as if I were a little boy.  I want a hundred
+pounds."
+
+"Yes, sir, a hundred pounds," said Pradelle.
+
+"A hundred, eh?  A hundred pounds.  Do you, now?" said Uncle Luke,
+without seeming in the slightest degree surprised.
+
+"The fact is, uncle, my friend Pradelle here is always hearing of
+openings for making a little money by speculations, and we have a chance
+now that would make large returns for our venture."
+
+"Hum! hah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke, as he looked at Pradelle in a quiet,
+almost appealing way.  "Let me see, Mr Pradelle.  You are a man of
+property, are you not!"
+
+"Well, sir, hardly that," said Pradelle nonchalantly; and he rose,
+placed his elbows on the rough chimney-piece, and leaned back with his
+legs crossed as he looked down at Uncle Luke.  "My little bit of an
+estate brings me in a very small income."
+
+"Estate here?"
+
+"No, no; in France, near Marseilles."
+
+"That's awkward; a long way off."
+
+"Go on," said Pradelle with his eyes, as he glanced at Harry.
+
+"No good.  Making fun of us," said Harry's return look; and the old
+man's eyes glistened.
+
+"Hundred pounds.  Speculation, of course?"
+
+"Hardly fair to call it speculation, it is so safe," said Pradelle, in
+face of a frown from his friend.
+
+"Hum!  A hundred pounds--a hundred pounds," said Uncle Luke
+thoughtfully.  "It's a good deal of money."
+
+"Oh, dear me, no, sir," said Pradelle.  "In business matters a mere
+trifle."
+
+"Ah! you see I'm not a business man.  Why don't you lend it to my
+nephew, Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"I--I'm--well--er--really, I--The fact is, sir, every shilling I have is
+locked up."
+
+"Then I should advise you to lose the key, Mr Pradelle," chuckled the
+old man, "or you may be tempted to spend it."
+
+"You're playing with us, uncle," cried Harry.  "Look here, will you lend
+me a hundred?  I promise you faithfully I'll pay it to you back."
+
+"Oh! of course, of course, my dear boy."
+
+"Then you'll lend it to me?"
+
+"Lend you a hundred?  My dear boy, I haven't a hundred pounds to lend
+you.  And see how happy I am without!"
+
+"Well, then, fifty, uncle.  I'll make that do."
+
+"Come, I like that, Harry," cried the old man, fixing Pradelle with his
+eye.  "There's something frank and generous about it.  It's brave, too;
+isn't it, sir?"
+
+"Yes, sir.  Harry's as frank and good-hearted a lad as ever stepped."
+
+"Thank you, Mr Pradelle.  It's very good of you to say so."
+
+"Come along, Vic," said Harry.
+
+"Don't hurry, my dear boy.  So you have an estate in France, have you,
+Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Humph; so has Harry--at least he will have some day, I suppose.  Yes,
+he is going to get it out of the usurper's hands--usurper is the word,
+isn't it, Harry?"
+
+Harry gave a kick out with one leg.
+
+"Yes, usurper is the word.  He's going to get the estate some day, Mr
+Pradelle; and then he is going to be a Count.  Of course he will have to
+give up being Mr Van Heldre's clerk then."
+
+"Look here, uncle," cried the young man hotly; "if you will not lend me
+the money, you needn't insult me before my friend."
+
+"Insult you, my dear boy?  Not I.  What a peppery fellow you are!  Now
+your aunt will tell you that this is your fine old French aristocratic
+blood effervescing; but it can't be good for you."
+
+"Come along, Vic," said Harry.
+
+"Oh, of course," said Pradelle.  "I'm sorry, though.  Fifty pounds isn't
+much, sir; perhaps you'll think it over."
+
+"Eh? think it over.  Of course I shall.  Sorry I can't oblige you,
+gentlemen.  Good evening."
+
+"Grinning at us all the time--a miserable old miser!" said Harry, as
+they began to walk back.  "He'd have done it if you hadn't made such a
+mess of it, Vic, with your free-and-easy way."
+
+"It's precious vexatious, Harry; but take care, or you'll sling that
+locket out to sea," said Pradelle, after they had been walking for about
+ten minutes.  "You'll have to think about my proposal.  You can't go on
+like this."
+
+"No," said Harry fiercely; "I can't go on like this, and I'll have the
+money somehow."
+
+"Bravo!  That's spoken like a man who means business.  Harry, if you
+keep to that tone, we shall make a huge fortune apiece.  How will you
+get the money?"
+
+"I'll ask Duncan Leslie for it.  He can't refuse me.  I should like to
+see him say `No.'  He must and he shall."
+
+"Then have a hundred, dear lad.  Don't be content with fifty."
+
+"I will not, you may depend upon that," cried Harry, "and--"
+
+He stopped short, and turned white, then red, and took half-a-dozen
+strides forward towards where Madelaine Van Heldre was seated upon one
+of the stone resting-places in a niche in the cliff--the very one where
+Duncan Leslie had had his unpleasant conversation with Aunt Marguerite.
+
+The presence of his sister's companion, in spite of their being slightly
+at odds, might have been considered pleasant to Harry Vine; and at any
+other time it would have been, but in this instance she was bending
+slightly forward, and listening to Duncan Leslie, who was standing with
+his back to the young men.
+
+Only a minute before, and Harry Vine had determined that with the power
+given by Leslie's evident attachment to his sister, he would make that
+gentleman open his cash-box or write a cheque on the Penzance bank for a
+hundred pounds.
+
+The scene before him altered Harry Vine's ideas, and sent the blood
+surging up to his brain.
+
+He stepped right up to Madelaine, giving Leslie a furious glance as that
+gentleman turned, and without the slightest preface, exclaimed--
+
+"Look here, Madelaine, it's time you were at home.  Come along with me."
+
+Madelaine flushed as she rose; and her lips parted as if to speak, but
+Leslie interposed.
+
+"Excuse me, Miss Van Heldre, I do not think you need reply to such a
+remark as that."
+
+"Who are you?" roared Harry, bursting into a fit of passion that was
+schoolboy-like in its heat and folly.  "Say another word, sir, and I'll
+pitch you off the cliff into the sea."
+
+"Here, steady, old fellow, steady!" whispered Pradelle; and he laid his
+hand on his companion's arm.
+
+"You mind your own business, Vic; and as for you--"
+
+He stopped, for he could say no more.  Leslie had quite ignored his
+presence, turning his back and offering his arm to Madelaine.
+
+"Shall I walk home with you, Miss Van Heldre?" he said.
+
+For answer, and without so much as looking at Harry Vine, Madelaine took
+the offered arm, and Pradelle tightened his hold as the couple walked
+away.
+
+The grasp was needless, for Harry's rage was evaporating fast, and
+giving place to a desolate sensation of despair.
+
+"Look here," said Pradelle; "you've kicked that over.  You can't ask him
+now."
+
+"No," said Harry, gazing at the departing figures, and trying to call up
+something about the fair daughters of France; "no, I can't ask him now."
+
+"Then look here, old fellow, I can't stand by and see you thrown over by
+everybody like this.  You know what your prospects are on your own
+relative's showing, not mine; and you know what can be done if we have
+the money.  You are not fit for this place, and I say you shall get out
+of it.  Now then, you know how it can be done.  Just a loan for a few
+weeks.  Will you, or will you not?"  Harry turned upon him a face that
+was ghastly pale.  "But if," he whispered hoarsely, "if we should fail?"
+
+"Fail?  You shan't fail."
+
+"One hundred," said Harry, hoarsely.  "Well, I suppose so.  We'll make
+that do.  Now then, I'm not going to waste time.  Is it yes or no?"
+
+Harry Vine felt a peculiar humming in the head, his mouth was hot and
+dry, and his lips felt parched.  He looked Pradelle in the face, as if
+pleading to be let off, but there was only a cunning, insistent smile to
+meet him there, and once more the question came in a sharp whisper,
+
+"Yes or no?"
+
+"Yes," said Harry; and as soon as he had said that word, it was as if a
+black cloud had gathered about his life.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XV.
+
+MY AUNT'S BETE NOIRE.
+
+Duncan Leslie was a sturdy, manly young fellow in his way, but he had
+arrived at a weak period.  He thought over his position, and what life
+would become had he a wife at home he really loved; and in spite of
+various displays of reserve, and the sneers, hints, and lastly the plain
+declaration that Louise was to marry some French gentleman of good
+family and position, Duncan found himself declaring that his ideas were
+folly one hour, and the next he was vowing that he would not give up,
+but that he would win in spite of all the Frenchmen on the face of the
+earth.
+
+"I must have a walk," he used to say.  "If I stop poring over books now,
+I shall be quite thick-headed to-morrow.  A man must study his health."
+
+So Duncan Leslie studied his health, and started off that evening in a
+different direction to the Vines'; and then, in spite of himself, began
+to make a curve, one which grew smaller and smaller as he walked
+thoughtfully on.
+
+"I don't see why I should not call," he said to himself.  "There's no
+harm in that.  Wish I had found some curious sea-anemone; I could go and
+ask the old man what it was--and have her sweet clear eyes reading me
+through and through.  I should feel that I had lowered myself in her
+sight."
+
+"No," he said, emphatically; "I'll be straightforward and manly over it
+if I can."
+
+"Hang that old woman!  She doesn't like me.  There's a peculiarly
+malicious look in her eyes whenever we meet.  Sneering fashion,
+something like her old brother, only he seems honest and she does not.
+I'd give something to know whether Louise cares for that French fellow.
+If she doesn't, why should she be condemned to a life of misery?  Could
+I make her any happier?"
+
+"I'll go home now."
+
+"No, I--I will not; I'll call."
+
+These questions had been scattered over Duncan Leslie's walk, and the
+making up of his mind displayed in the last words was three-quarters of
+an hour after the first.
+
+"I'm no better than a weak boy," he said, as he strode along manfully
+now.  "I make mountains of molehills.  What can he more natural and
+neighbourly than for me to drop in, as I am going to do, for a chat with
+old Vine?"
+
+There was still that peculiar feeling of consciousness, though, to
+trouble him, as he knocked, and was admitted by Liza, whose eyelids were
+nearly as red as the ribbon she had bought.
+
+The next minute he was in the pleasant homely drawing-room, feeling a
+glow of love and pride, and ready to do battle with any De Ligny in
+France for the possession of the prize whose soft warm hand rested for a
+few moments in his.
+
+"Ah, Miss Van Heldre," he said, as he shook hands with her in turn, and
+his face lit up and a feeling of satisfaction thrilled him, for there
+was something in matter-of-fact Madelaine that gave him confidence.
+
+Aunt Marguerite's eyes twinkled with satisfaction, as she saw the
+cordial greeting, and built up a future of her own materials.
+
+"Miss Marguerite," said the young man ceremoniously, as he touched the
+extended hand, manipulated so that he should only grasp the tips; and,
+as he saluted, Leslie could not help thinking philosophically upon the
+different sensations following the touch of a hand.
+
+A growing chill was coming over the visit, and Leslie was beginning to
+feel as awkward as a sturdy well-grown young tree might, if suddenly
+transplanted from a warm corner to a situation facing an iceberg, when
+the old naturalist handed a chair for his visitor.
+
+"Glad to see you, Leslie," he said; "sit down."
+
+"You will take some tea, Mr Leslie?"
+
+Hah!  The moment before the young man had felt ready to beat an
+ignominious retreat, but as soon as the voice of Louise Vine rang in his
+ears with that simple homely question, he looked up manfully, declared
+that he would take some tea, and in spite of himself glanced at Aunt
+Marguerite's tightening lips, his eyes seeming to say, "Now, then, march
+out a brigade of De Lignys if you like."
+
+"And sugar, Mr Leslie?"
+
+"And sugar," he said, for he was ready to accept any sweets she would
+give.
+
+Then he took the cup of tea, looked in the eyes that met his very
+frankly and pleasantly, and then his own rested upon a quaint-looking
+cornelian locket, which was evidently French.
+
+There was nothing to an ordinary looker-on in that piece of jewellery,
+but somehow it troubled Duncan Leslie: and as he turned to speak to Aunt
+Marguerite, he felt that she had read his thoughts, and her lips had
+relaxed into a smile.
+
+"Well, George, if you do not mind Mr Leslie hearing, I do not," said
+Aunt Marguerite.  "I must reiterate that the poor boy is growing every
+day more despondent and unhappy."
+
+"Nonsense, Margaret!"
+
+"Ah, you may say nonsense, my good brother, but I understand his nature
+better than you.  Yes, my dear," she continued, "such a trade as that
+carried on by Mr Van Heldre is not a suitable avocation for your son."
+
+"Hah!" sighed Vine.
+
+"Now, you are a tradesman, Mr Leslie--" continued Aunt Marguerite.
+
+"Eh?  I, a tradesman?" said Leslie, looking at her wonderingly.  "Yes,
+of course: I suppose so; I trade in copper and tin."
+
+"Yes, a tradesman, Mr Leslie: but you have your perceptions, you have
+seen, and you know my nephew.  Now, answer me honestly, is Mr Van
+Heldre's business suitable to a young man with such an ancestry as
+Henri's?"
+
+Louise watched him wonderingly, and her lips parted as she hung upon his
+words.
+
+"Well, really, madam," he began.
+
+"Ah," she said, "you shrink.  His French ancestors would have scorned
+such a pursuit."
+
+"Oh, no," said Leslie, "I do not shrink; and as to that, I think it
+would have been very stupid of his French ancestors.  Trading in tin is
+a very ancient and honourable business.  Let me see, it was the
+Phoenicians, was it not, who used to come to our ports for the metal in
+question?  They were not above trading in tin and Tyrian dye."
+
+Aunt Marguerite turned up her eyes.
+
+"And a metal is a metal.  For my part, it seems quite as good a pursuit
+to trade in tin as in silver or gold."
+
+Aunt Marguerite gave the young man a pitying, contemptuous look, which
+made Louise bite her lip.
+
+"Aunt, clear," she said hurriedly, "let me give you some more tea."
+
+"I was not discussing tea, my dear, but your brother's future; and pray,
+my dear child," she continued, turning suddenly upon Madelaine with an
+irritating smile, "pray do not think I am disparaging your worthy father
+and his business affairs."
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Vine."
+
+"Miss _Marguerite_ Vine, my child, if you will be so good.  Oh, by the
+way, has your father heard any news of his ship?"
+
+"Not yet, Miss Marguerite," said Madelaine quietly.
+
+"Dear me, I am very sorry.  It would be so serious a loss for him, Mr
+Leslie, if the ship did not come safe to port."
+
+"Yes, of course," said Leslie; "but I should suppose, Miss Van Heldre,
+that your father is well insured."
+
+"Yes," said Madelaine quietly.
+
+"There, never mind about Van Heldre's ship," said Vine pleasantly.
+"Don't croak like a Cassandra, Margaret; and as to Harry, a year or two
+in a good solid business will not do him any harm, eh, Leslie?"
+
+"I should say it would do him a world of good."
+
+"My nephew is not to be judged in the same light as a young man who is
+to be brought up as a tradesman," said Aunt Marguerite, with dignity.
+
+"Only a tradesman's son, my dear."
+
+"The descendant of a long line of ennobled gentry, George; a fact you
+always will forget," said Aunt Marguerite, rising and leaving the room,
+giving Leslie, who opened the door, a _Minuet de la Cour_ courtesy on
+the threshold, and then rustling across the hall.
+
+Her brother took it all as a matter of course.  Once that Marguerite had
+ceased speaking the matter dropped, to make way for something far more
+important in the naturalist's eyes--the contents of one of his glass
+aquaria; but Louise, to remove the cloud her aunt had left behind,
+hastily kept the ball rolling.
+
+"Don't think any more about aunt's remarks, Madelaine.  Harry is a good
+fellow, but he would be discontented anywhere sometimes."
+
+"I do not think he would be discontented now," she replied, "if his aunt
+would leave him alone."
+
+"It is very foolish of him to think of what she says."
+
+"Of course it is irksome to him at first," continued Madelaine; "but my
+father is not exacting.  It is the hours at the desk that trouble your
+brother most."
+
+"I wish I could see him contented," sighed Louise.  "I'd give anything
+to see him settle down."
+
+A very simple wish, which went right to Duncan Leslie's heart, and set
+him thinking so deeply that for the rest of his visit he was silent, and
+almost constrained--a state which Madelaine noted as she rose.
+
+"Must you go so soon, dear?" said Louise consciously, for a terrible
+thought crossed her mind, and sent the blood surging to her cheeks--
+Madelaine was scheming to leave her and the visitor alone.
+
+"Yes; they will be expecting me back," said Madelaine, smiling as she
+grasped her friend's thoughts; and then to herself, "Oh, you stupid
+fellow!"  For Leslie rose at once.
+
+"And I must be going too.  Let's see, I am walking your way, Miss Van
+Heldre.  May I see you home?"
+
+"I--"
+
+"Yes, do, Mr Leslie," said Louise quietly.
+
+"Ah!  I will," he said hastily.  "I want a chat with your father, too."
+
+Madelaine would have avoided the escort, but she could only have done
+this at the expense of making a fuss; so merely said "Very well;" and
+went off with Louise to put on her hat and mantle, leaving Leslie alone
+with his host, who was seated by the window with a watchmaker's glass in
+his eye, making use of the remaining light for the study of some
+wonderful marine form.
+
+"She would give anything to see her brother settled down," said Leslie
+to himself, over and over again.  "Well, why not?"
+
+Five minutes later he and Madelaine were going along the main street,
+with Louise watching them from behind her father's chair, and wondering
+why she did not feel so happy as she did half an hour before; and Aunt
+Marguerite gazing from her open window.
+
+"Ah!" said the old lady; "that's better.  Birds of a feather do flock
+together, after all."
+
+But the flocking pair had no such thoughts as those with which they were
+given credit, for directly they were outside, Duncan Leslie set
+Madelaine's heart beating by his first words.
+
+"Look here," he said, "I want to take you into my counsel, Miss Van
+Heldre, because you have so much sound common-sense."
+
+"Is that meant for a compliment, Mr Leslie?"
+
+"No; I never pay compliments.  Look here," he said bluntly, "you take an
+interest in Harry Vine."
+
+Madelaine was silent.
+
+"That means yes," said Leslie.  "Now to be perfectly plain with you,
+Miss Van Heldre, so do I; and I want to serve him if I can."
+
+"Yes?" said Madelaine, growing more deeply interested.
+
+"Yes, it is--as the sailors say.  Now it's very plain that he is not
+contented where he is."
+
+"I'm afraid not."
+
+"What do you say to this?--I will not be a sham--I want to serve him for
+reasons which I dare say you guess; reasons of which I am not in the
+least ashamed.  Now what do you think of this?  How would he be with
+me?"
+
+Madelaine flushed with pleasure.
+
+"I cannot say.  Is this a sudden resolve?"
+
+"Quite.  I never thought of such a thing till I went there."
+
+"Then take time to think it over, Mr Leslie."
+
+"Good advice; but it is a thing that requires very little thought.  I
+cannot say what arrangements I should make--that would require
+consideration--but I should not tie him to a desk.  He would have the
+overlooking of a lot of men, and I should try to make him as happy as I
+could."
+
+"Oh, Mr Leslie!" said Madelaine, rather excitedly.
+
+"Pray do not think I am slighting your father, or looking down upon what
+he has done, which, speaking as a blunt man, is very self-sacrificing."
+
+"As it would be on your part."
+
+"On mine?  Oh, no," said Leslie frankly.  "When a man has such an
+_arriere pensee_ as I have, there is no self-sacrifice.  There, you see
+I am perfectly plain."
+
+"And I esteem you all the more for it."
+
+The conversation extended, and in quite a long discussion everything was
+forgotten but the subject in hand, till Leslie said:--
+
+"There, you had better sit down and rest for a few minutes.  You are
+quite out of breath."
+
+Madelaine looked startled, for she had been so intent upon their
+conversation that she had not heeded their going up the cliff walk.
+
+"Sit down," said Leslie; and she obeyed.  "Get your breath, and we'll
+walk back to your house together; but what do you think of it all?"
+
+"I cannot help thinking that it would for many reasons be better."
+
+"So do I," said Leslie, "in spite of the risk."
+
+"Risk?"
+
+"Yes.  Suppose I get into an imbroglio with Master Harry?  He's as
+peppery as can be.  How then?"
+
+"You will be firm and forbearing," said Madelaine gravely.  "I have no
+fear."
+
+"Well, I have.  I know myself better than you know me," said Leslie,
+placing a foot on the seat and resting his arm on his knee, as he spoke
+thoughtfully.  "I am a very hotheaded kind of Highlander by descent, and
+there's no knowing what might happen.  Now one more question.  Shall I
+open fire on your father to-night?"
+
+"That requires more consideration," said Madelaine.  "We will talk that
+over as we go back.  Here is Harry," she said quickly, as that gentleman
+suddenly burst upon them; and the walk back to Van Heldre's was
+accomplished without the discussion.
+
+"I'm afraid I've made a very great mistake, Miss Van Heldre," said
+Leslie, as they neared the house.
+
+"Don't say that," she replied.  "It was most unfortunate."
+
+"But you will soon set that right?" he added, after a pause.
+
+"I don't know," said Madelaine quietly.  "You will come in?"
+
+"No; not this evening.  We had better both have a grand think before
+anything is said."
+
+"Yes," said Madelaine; and they parted at the door--to think.
+
+"Why, John," said Mrs Van Heldre, turning from the window to gaze in
+her husband's face, "did you see that?"
+
+"Yes," said Van Heldre shortly; "quite plainly."
+
+"But what does it mean?"
+
+"Human nature."
+
+"But I thought, dear--"
+
+"So did I, and now I think quite differently."
+
+"Well, really, I must speak to Madelaine: it is so--"
+
+"Silence!" said Van Heldre sternly.  "Madelaine is not a child now.
+Wait, wife, and she will speak to us."
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XVI.
+
+IN A WEST COAST GALE.
+
+"That project is knocked over as if it were a card house," said Duncan
+Leslie, as he reached home, and sat thinking of Louise and her brother.
+
+He looked out to see that in a very short time the total aspect of the
+sea had changed.  The sky had become overcast, and in the dim light the
+white horses of the Atlantic were displaying their manes.
+
+"Very awkward run for the harbour to-night," he said, as he returned to
+his seat.  "Can't be pleasant to be a ship-owner.  I wonder whether Miss
+Marguerite Vine would consider that a more honourable way of making
+money?"
+
+"Yes, a tradesman, I suppose.  Well, why not?  Better than being a
+descendant of some feudal gentleman whose sole idea of right was might."
+
+"My word!" he exclaimed; "what a sudden gale to have sprung up.  Heavy
+consumption of coal in the furnaces to-night.  How this wind will make
+them roar."
+
+He faced round to the window and sat listening as the wind shrieked, and
+howled, and beat at the panes, every now and then sending the raindrops
+pattering almost as loudly as hail.  "Hope it will not blow down my
+chimney on the top yonder.  Hah!  I ought to be glad that I have no ship
+to trouble me on a night like this."
+
+"No," he said firmly, just as the wind had hurled itself with redoubled
+fury against the house; "no, she does not give me a second thought.  But
+I take heart of grace, for I can feel that she has never had that gentle
+little heart troubled by such thoughts.  The Frenchman has not won her,
+and he never shall if I can help it.  It's a fair race for both of us,
+and only one can win."
+
+"My word!  What a night!"
+
+He walked to the window and looked out at the sombre sky, and listened
+to the roar of the rumbling billows before closing his casement and
+ringing.
+
+"Is all fastened?" he said to the servant.  "You need not sit up.--I
+don't believe a dog would be out to-night, let alone a human being."
+
+He was wrong; for just as he spoke a dark figure encased in oilskins was
+sturdily making its way down the cliff-path to the town.  It was hard
+work, and in places on the exposed cliff-side even dangerous, for the
+wind seemed to pounce upon the figure and try to tear it off; but after
+a few moments' pause the walk was continued, the town reached, and the
+wind-swept streets traversed without a soul being passed.
+
+The figure passed on by the wharves and warehouses, and sheltered now
+from the wind made good way till, some distance ahead, a door was
+opened, a broad patch of light shone out on the wet cobble stones,
+Crampton's voice said, "Good-night," and the figure drew back into a
+deep doorway, and waited.
+
+The old clerk had been to the principal inn, where, once a week, he
+visited his club, and drank one glass of Hollands and water, and smoked
+one pipe, talking mostly to one friend, to whom if urged he would relate
+one old story.
+
+This was his one dissipation; and afterwards he performed one regular
+duty which took him close up to the watching figure which remained there
+almost breathless till Crampton had performed his regular duty and gone
+home.
+
+It was ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before he passed that
+watching figure, which seemed to have sunk away in the darkness that
+grew more dense as the gale increased.
+
+Morning at last, a slowly breaking dawn, and with it the various
+sea-going men slowly leaving their homes, to direct their steps in a
+long procession towards one point where the high cliff face formed a
+shelter from the southwest wind, and the great billows which rolled
+heavily in beneath the leaden sky.  These came on with the regularity of
+machinery, to charge the cliffs at which they leaped with a hiss and a
+roar, and a boom like thunder, followed by a peculiar rattling,
+grumbling sound, as if the peal of thunder had been broken up into heavy
+pieces which were rolling over each other back toward the sea.
+
+They were not pieces of thunder but huge boulders, which had been rolled
+over and over for generations to batter the cliffs, and then fall back
+down an inclined plane.
+
+Quite a crowd had gathered on the broad, glistening patch of rugged
+granite, as soon as the day broke, and this crowd was ever augmenting,
+till quite a phalanx of oilskin coats and tarpaulin hats presented its
+face to the thundering sea, while men shouted to each other, and swept
+the lead-coloured horizon with heavy glasses, or the naked hand-shaded
+eye, in search of some vessel trying to make the harbour, or in
+distress.
+
+"She bites, this morning," said one old fisherman, shaking the spray
+from his dripping face after looking round the corner of a mass of
+sheltering rock.
+
+"Ay, mate, and it aren't in me to tell you how glad I am my boat's up
+the harbour with her nose fast to a buoy," said another.
+
+"There'll be widders and orphans in some ports 'fore nightfall."
+
+"And thank the Lord that won't be in Hakemouth."
+
+"I dunno so much about that," growled a heavy-looking man, with a fringe
+of white hair round his face.  "Every boat that sails out of this
+harbour arn't in port."
+
+"That it is.  Why, what's yer thinking about?"
+
+"'Bout Van Heldre's brig, my lad."
+
+"Ah," chorused half-a-dozen voices, "we didn't think o' she."
+
+"Been doo days and days," said the white-fringed old fisherman; "and if
+she's out yonder, I say, Lord ha' mercy on 'em all, Amen."
+
+"Not had such a storm this time o' year since the Cape mail were wrecked
+off the Long Chain."
+
+"Ah, and that warn't so bad as this.  Bound to say the brig has put into
+Mount's Bay."
+
+"And not a nice place either with the wind this how.  Well, my lads, I
+say there's blessings and blessings, and we ought all to be werry
+thankful as we arn't ship-owners with wessels out yonder."
+
+This was from the first man who had spoken; but his words were not
+received with much favour, and as in a lull of the wind one of the men
+had to use a glass, he growled out,
+
+"Well, I dunno 'bout sending one's ship to sea in such a storm, but I
+don't see as it's such a very great blessing not to have one of your
+own, speshly if she happened to be a brig like Mast' Van Heldre's!"
+
+"Hold your row," said a man beside him, as he drove his elbow into his
+ribs, and gave a side jerk of his head.
+
+The man thus adjured turned sharply, and saw close to him a
+sturdy-looking figure clothed from head to foot in black mackintosh,
+which glistened as it dripped with the showery spray.
+
+"Ugly day, my lads."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir; much snugger in port than out yonder."
+
+_Boom_! came a heavy blow from a wave, and the offing seemed to be
+obscured now by the drifting spray.
+
+Van Heldre focussed a heavy binocular, and gazed out to sea long and
+carefully.
+
+"Any one been up to the look-out?" he said, as he lowered his glass.
+
+"Two on us tried it, sir," said one of the men, "but the wind's offle up
+yonder, and you can't see nothing."
+
+"Going to try it, sir?" said another of the group.
+
+Van Heldre nodded; and he was on his way to a roughly-formed flight of
+granite steps which led up to the ruins of the old castle which had once
+defended the mouth of the harbour, when another mackintosh-clothed
+figure came up.
+
+"Ah, Mr Leslie," said Van Heldre, looking at the new-comer searchingly.
+
+"Good morning," was the reply, "or I should say bad morning.  There'll
+be some mischief after this."
+
+Van Heldre nodded, for conversation was painful, and passed on.
+
+"Going up yonder?" shouted Leslie.
+
+There was another nod, and under the circumstances, not pausing to ask
+permission, Leslie followed the old merchant, climbing the rough stone
+steps, and holding on tightly by the rail.
+
+"Best look out, master," shouted one of the group.  "Soon as you get
+atop roosh acrost and kneel down behind the old parry-putt."
+
+It was a difficult climb and full of risk, for as they went higher they
+were more exposed, till as they reached the rough top which formed a
+platform, the wind seemed to rush at them as interlopers which it strove
+to sweep off and out to sea.
+
+Van Heldre stood, glass in hand, holding on by a block of granite, his
+mackintosh tightly pressed to his figure in front, and filling out
+behind till it had a balloon-like aspect that seemed grotesque.
+
+"I dare say I look as bad," Leslie muttered, as, taking the rough
+fisherman's advice, he bent down and crept under the shelter of the
+ancient parapet, a dwarf breastwork, with traces of the old crude
+bastions just visible, and here, to some extent, he was screened from
+the violence of the wind, and signed to Van Heldre to join him.
+
+Leslie placed his hands to his mouth, and shouted through them,
+
+"Hadn't you better come here, sir?"  For the position seemed terribly
+insecure.  They were on the summit of the rocky headland, with the sides
+going on three sides sheer down to the shore, on two of which sides the
+sea kept hurling huge waves of water, which seemed to make the rock
+quiver to its foundations.  One side of the platform was protected by
+the old breastwork; on the opposite the stones had crumbled away or
+fallen, and here there was a swift slope of about thirty feet to the
+cliff edge.
+
+It was at the top of this slope that Van Heldre stood gazing out to sea.
+
+Leslie, as he watched him, felt a curious premonition of danger, and
+gathered himself together involuntarily, ready for a spring.
+
+The danger he anticipated was not long in making its demand upon him,
+for all at once there was a tremendous gust, as if an atmospheric wave
+had risen up to spring at the man standing on high as if daring the fury
+of the tempest; and in spite of Van Heldre's sturdy frame he completely
+lost his balance.  He staggered for a moment, and, but for his presence
+of mind in throwing himself down, he would have been swept headlong down
+the swift slope to destruction.
+
+As it was he managed to cling to the rocks, as the wind swept furiously
+over, and checked his downward progress for the moment.  This would have
+been of little avail, for, buffeted by the wind, he was gliding slowly
+down, and but for Leslie's quickly rendered aid, it would only have been
+a matter of moments before he had been hurled down upon the rocks below.
+
+Even as he staggered, Leslie mastered the peculiar feeling of inertia
+which attacked him, and, creeping rapidly over the intervening space,
+made a dash at the fluttering overcoat, caught it, twisted it rapidly,
+and held on.
+
+Then for a space neither moved, for it was as if the storm was raging
+with redoubled fury at the chance of its victim being snatched away.
+
+The lull seemed as if it would never come; and when it did Leslie felt
+afraid to stir lest the fragile material by which he supported his
+companion should give way.  In a few moments, however, he was himself,
+and shouting so as to make his voice plainly heard--for, close as he
+was, his words seemed to be swept away as uttered--he uttered a few
+short clear orders, which were not obeyed.
+
+"Do you hear?" he cried again, "Mr Van Heldre--quick!"
+
+Still there was no reply by voice or action, and it seemed as if the
+weight upon Leslie's wrists was growing heavier moment by moment.  He
+yelled to him now, to act; and what seemed to be a terrible time elapsed
+before Van Heldre said hoarsely--
+
+"One moment: better now.  I felt paralysed."
+
+There was another terrible pause, during which the storm beat upon them,
+the waves thundered at the base of the rock, and even at that height
+there came a rain of spray which had run up the face of the rock and
+swept over to where they lay.
+
+"Now, quick!" said Van Heldre, as he lay face downward, spread-eagled,
+as a sailor would term it, against the face of the sloping granite.
+
+What followed seemed to be a struggling scramble, a tremendous effort,
+and then with the wind shrieking round them, Van Heldre reached the
+level, and crept slowly to the shelter of the parapet.
+
+"Great heavens!" panted Leslie, as he lay there exhausted, and gazed
+wildly at his companion.  "What an escape!"
+
+There was no reply.  Leslie thought that Van Heldre had fainted, for his
+eyes were nearly closed, and his face seemed to be drawn.  Then he
+realised that his lips were moving slowly, as if in prayer.
+
+"Hah!" the rescued man said at last, his words faintly heard in the
+tempest's din.  "Thank God!  For their sake--for their sake."
+
+Then, holding out his hand, he pressed Leslie's in a firm strong grip.
+
+"Leslie," he said, with his lips close to his companion's ear, "you have
+saved my life."
+
+Neither spoke much after that, but they crouched there--in turn using
+the glass.
+
+Once Van Heldre grasped his companion's arm, and pointed out to sea.
+
+"A ship?" cried Leslie.
+
+"No.  Come down now."
+
+Waiting till the wind had dropped for the moment, they reached the rough
+flight of steps, and on returning to the level found that the crowd had
+greatly increased; and among them Leslie saw Harry Vine and his
+companion.
+
+"Can't see un, sir, can you?" shouted one of the men.
+
+Van Heldre shook his head.
+
+"I thought you wouldn't, sir," shouted another.  "Capt'n Muskerry's too
+good a sailor to try and make this port in such a storm."
+
+"Ay," shouted another.  "She's safe behind the harbour wall at
+Penzaunce."
+
+"I pray she may be," said Van Heldre.  "Come up to my place and have
+some breakfast, Leslie, but not a word, mind, about the slip.  I'll tell
+that my way."
+
+"Then I decline to come," said Leslie, and after a hearty grip of the
+hand they parted.
+
+"I thought he meant Vine's girl," said Van Heldre, as he walked along
+the wharves street, "but there is no accounting for these things."
+
+"I ought to explain to him how it was I came to be walking with Miss Van
+Heldre," said Leslie to himself.  "Good morning."
+
+He had suddenly found himself face to face with Harry, who walked by,
+arm in arm with Pradelle, frowning and without a word, when just as they
+passed a corner the wind came with a tremendous burst, and but for
+Leslie's hand Harry Vine must have gone over into the harbour.
+
+It was but the business of a moment, and Harry seemed to shake off the
+hand which held him with a tremendous grip and passed on.
+
+"Might have said thank you," said Leslie, smiling.  "I seem to be doing
+quite a business in saving people this morning, only they are of the
+wrong sex--there is no heroism.  Hallo, Mr Luke Vine.  Come down to
+look at the storm?"
+
+"Couldn't I have seen it better up at home?" shouted the old man.  "Ugh!
+what a wind.  Thought I was going to be blown off the cliff.  I see your
+chimney still stands, worse luck.  Going home?"
+
+"No, no.  One feels so much unsettled at such a time."
+
+"Don't go home then.  Stop with me."
+
+Leslie looked at the quaint old man in rather an amused way, and then
+stopped with him to watch the tumbling billows off the point where his
+companion so often fished.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XVII.
+
+THE NEWS.
+
+The day wore on with the storm now lulling slightly, now increasing in
+violence till it seemed as if the great rolling banks of green water
+must end by conquering in their attack, and sweeping away first the
+rough pier, and then the little twin towns on either side of the
+estuary.  Nothing was visible seawards, but in a maritime place the
+attention of all is centred upon the expected, and in the full belief
+that sooner or later there would be a wreck, all masculine Hakemouth
+gathered in sheltered places to be on the watch.
+
+Van Heldre and Leslie came into contact again that afternoon, and after
+a long look seaward, the merchant took the young man's arm.
+
+"Come on to my place," he said quietly.  "You'll come too, Luke Vine?"
+
+"I?  No, no," said the old fellow, shaking his head.  "I want to stop
+and watch the sea go down."
+
+His refusal was loud and demonstrative, but somehow there was a
+suggestion in it of a request to be asked again.
+
+"Nonsense!" said Van Heldre.  "You may as well come and take shelter for
+a while.  You will not refuse, Leslie?"
+
+"Thanks all the same, but I hope you will excuse me too," replied Leslie
+with his lips, but with an intense desire to go, for there was a
+possibility of Louise being at the house with Madelaine.
+
+"I shall feel vexed if you refuse," said Van Heldre quietly.  "Come
+along, Luke, and dine with us.  I'm depressed and worried to-day; be a
+bit neighbourly if you can."
+
+"Oh, I'll come," said the old man; "but it serves you right.  Why can't
+you be content as I am, instead of venturing hundreds and hundreds of
+pounds in ships on the sea?  Here, come along, Leslie, and let's eat and
+drink all we can to help him, the extravagant spendthrift."
+
+Van Heldre smiled, and they went along to the house together.
+
+"The boy in yonder at work?" said Uncle Luke, giving a wag of his head
+toward the office.
+
+"Yes," said Van Heldre, and ushered his visitors in, the closed door
+seeming directly after to shut out the din and confusion of the
+wind-swept street.
+
+"There, throw your mackintoshes on that chair," said Van Heldre; and
+hardly had Leslie got rid of his than Mrs Van Heldre was in the hall,
+her short plump arms were round Leslie's neck, and she kissed him
+heartily.
+
+"God bless you!" she whispered with a sob; and before Leslie had well
+recovered from his surprise and confusion, Madelaine was holding one of
+his hands in both of hers, and looking tearfully in his face in a way
+which spoke volumes.
+
+"Ah, it's nice to be young and good-looking, and well off," said Uncle
+Luke.  "Nobody gives me such a welcome."
+
+"How can you say that!" said Madelaine, with a laugh.  "Come, Uncle
+Luke, and we're very glad to see you."
+
+As she spoke she put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his wrinkled
+cheek.
+
+"Hah! that's like old times, Maddy," said the grim-looking visitor,
+softening a little.
+
+"Why didn't you keep a nice plump little girl, same as you used to be?"
+
+Madelaine gave him a smile and nod but left the old man with her father,
+and followed her mother and Leslie into the dining-room.
+
+"So that's to be it, is it, Van, eh?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply.  "It's all very sudden and a surprise to
+me."
+
+"Angled for it, haven't you?"
+
+"Angled?  No."
+
+"She has then.  My dear boy, son of my heart, the very man for my
+darling, eh?" chuckled Uncle Luke.
+
+"Be quiet, you sham cynic," said Van Heldre dreamily.  "Don't banter me,
+Luke, I'm sorely ill at ease."
+
+"About money, eh?" cried Uncle Luke eagerly.
+
+"Money?  No!  I was thinking about those poor fellows out at sea."
+
+"In your brig, eh?  Ah, 'tis sad.  But that money--quite safe, eh?"
+
+"Oh yes, safe enough."
+
+"Oh, do come, papa dear," said Madelaine, reappearing at the door.
+"Dinner is waiting."
+
+"Yes, yes, we're coming, my dear," said Van Heldre, laying his hand
+affectionately on Uncle Luke's shoulder, and they were soon after seated
+round the table, with the elder visitor showing at times quite another
+side of his character.
+
+No allusion was made to the adventure of the morning, but Leslie felt in
+the gentle tenderness displayed towards him by mother and daughter that
+much had been said, and that he had won a very warm place in their
+regard.  In fact, in word and look, Mrs Van Heldre seemed to be giving
+him a home in her motherly heart, which was rather embarrassing, and
+would have been more so, but for Madelaine's frank, pleasant way of
+meeting his gaze, every action seemed to be sisterly and affectionate
+but nothing more.
+
+So Leslie read them, but so did not the ciders at the table.
+
+By mutual consent no allusion was made to the missing brig, and it
+seemed to Leslie that the thoughts of mother and daughter were directed
+principally to one point, that of diverting Van Heldre from his
+troublesome thoughts.
+
+"Ah, I was hungry," said Uncle Luke, when the repast was about half
+over.  "Very pleasant meal, only wanted one thing to make it perfect."
+
+"Why, my dear Luke Vine, why didn't you speak?  What is it? oh, pray
+say."
+
+"Society," said Uncle Luke, after pausing for a moment to turn towards
+the window, a gust having given it a tremendous shake.  "I say, if I
+find my place blown away, can you find me a dry shed or a dog kennel or
+something, Leslie?"
+
+"Don't talk such stuff, Luke Vine," cried Mrs Van Heldre.  "Don't take
+any notice of him, Mr Leslie, he's a rich old miser and nothing else.
+Now, Luke Vine, what do you mean?"
+
+"Said what I meant, society.  Why didn't you ask my sister to dinner?
+She'd have set us all right, eh, Madelaine?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Madelaine, smiling.
+
+"But I do," cried her mother; "she'd have set us all by the ears with
+her nonsense.  You are a strange pair."
+
+"We are--we are.  Nice sherry this, Van."
+
+"Glad you like it," said Van Heldre, with his eyes turned towards the
+window, as if he expected news.
+
+"How a woman can be so full of pride and so useless puzzles me."
+
+"Mamma!" whispered Madelaine, with an imploring look.
+
+"Let her talk, my clear," said Uncle Luke, "it doesn't hurt any one.
+Don't talk nonsense, Van's wife.  What use could you make of her?  She
+is like the thistle that grows up behind my place, a good-looking
+prickly plant, with a ball of down for a head.  Let her be; you always
+get the worst of it.  The more you excite her the more that head of hers
+sends out floating downy seeds to settle here and there and do mischief.
+She has spoiled my nephew Harry, and nearly spoiled my niece."
+
+"Don't you believe it, Mr Leslie," cried Madelaine, with a long earnest
+look in her eyes.
+
+"Quite true, Miss Impudence," continued Uncle Luke.  "Always was a war
+between me and the useless plants."
+
+"Well, I can't sit here silent and listen to such heresy," cried Mrs
+Van Heldre, shaking her head.  "Surely, Luke Vine, you don't call
+yourself a useful plant."
+
+"Bless my soul, ma'am, then I suppose I'm a weed?"
+
+"Not you," said Van Heldre, forcing a show of interest in the
+conversation.
+
+"Yes, old fellow, I am," said Uncle Luke, holding his sherry up to the
+light, and sipping it as if he found real enjoyment therein.  "I suppose
+I am only a weed, not a thistle, like Margaret up yonder, but a
+tough-rooted, stringy, matter-of-fact old nettle, who comes up quietly
+in his own corner, and injures no one so long as people let him alone."
+
+"No, no, no, no!" said Madelaine emphatically.
+
+"Quite right, Miss Van Heldre," said Leslie.
+
+"Hear, hear!" cried Van Heldre.  "Stir me up, then, and see," cried the
+old man grimly.  "More than one person has found out before now how I
+can sting, and--Hallo! what's wrong?  You here?"
+
+There had been a quick step in the long passage, and, without ceremony,
+the door was thrown open, Harry Vine entering, to stand in the gathering
+gloom hatless and excited.
+
+He was about to speak, Van Heldre having sprung to his feet, when the
+young man's eyes alighted on Leslie and Madelaine seated side by side at
+the table, and the flash of anger which mounted to his brain drove
+everything else away.
+
+"What is it?" cried Van Heldre hoarsely.  "Do you hear?--speak!"
+
+"There is a brig on the Conger Rock," said Harry quickly, as if roused
+to a recollection of that which he had come to say.
+
+"Yes, sir," cried another voice, as old Crampton suddenly appeared.
+"And the man has just run up to the office with the news, for--"
+
+"Well, man, speak out," said Van Heldre, whose florid face was mottled
+with patches of ghastly white.
+
+"They think it's ours."
+
+"I felt it coming," groaned Van Heldre, as he rushed into the hall,
+Leslie following quickly.
+
+As he hurriedly threw on his waterproof a hand caught his, and turning,
+it was to see Madelaine looking up imploringly in his eyes.
+
+"My father, Mr Leslie.  Keep him out of danger, pray!"
+
+"Trust me.  I'll do my best," said the young man quickly; and then he
+awoke to the fact that Harry Vine was beside him, white with anger, an
+anger which seemed to make him dumb.
+
+The next minute the whole party were struggling down the street against
+the hurricane-like wind, to learn from a dozen voices, eager to tender
+the bad news, that the mist of spray had been so thick that in the early
+gloom of evening the vessel had approached quite unseen till she was
+close in, and directly after she had struck on the dangerous rock, in a
+wild attempt to reach the harbour, a task next to impossible in such a
+storm.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XVIII.
+
+HARRY VINE SHOWS HIS BRIGHT SIDE.
+
+The wreck of a ship on the threshold of the home where every occupant is
+known, is a scene of excitement beyond the reach of pen to adequately
+describe; and as the two young men reached the mouth of the harbour,
+following closely upon Van Heldre, their own petty animosity was
+forgotten in the face of the terrible disaster.
+
+The night was coming fast, and a light had been hoisted in the rigging
+of the vessel, now hard on the dangerous rock--the long arc of a circle
+described by the dim star showing plainly to those on shore the
+precarious position of the unfortunate crew.
+
+The sides of the harbour were crowded, in spite of the tremendous storm
+of wind and spray; and, as Leslie followed the ship-owner, he noted the
+horror and despair in many a spray-wet face.
+
+As Van Heldre approached and was recognised there was a cheer given by
+those who seemed to take it for granted that the owner would at once
+devise a way to save the vessel from her perilous position; and rescue
+the crew whose lives were clear to many gathered in agony around, to
+see, as it were, their dear ones die.
+
+Steps had already been taken, however, and as the little party from Van
+Heldre's reached the harbour it was to see the life-boat launched, and a
+crew of sturdy fellows in their places, ready to do battle with the
+waves.
+
+It seemed to be a terrible task to row right out from the comparatively
+calm harbour, whose long rocky point acted as a breakwater, to where the
+great billows came rolling in, each looking as if it would engulf a
+score of such frail craft as that which, after a little of the
+hesitation of preparation, and amidst a tremendous burst of cheering,
+was rowed out into the middle of the estuary, and then straight away for
+the mouth.
+
+But they were not all cheers which followed the boat.  Close by where
+Leslie stood, with a choking sensation of emotion in his breast, a woman
+uttered a wild shriek as the boat went off, and her hands were
+outstretched towards one of the oilskin-cased men, who sat in his place
+tugging stolidly at his oar.
+
+That one cry, heard above the roaring of the wind, the hiss of the
+spray, and the heavy thunder of the waves, acted like a signal to let
+loose the pent-up agony of a score of hearts; and wives, mothers,
+sisters, all joined in that one wild cry, "Come back!"
+
+The answer was a hoarse "Give way!" from the coxswain; and the crew
+turned their eyes determinedly from the harbour wall and tugged at their
+oars.
+
+The progress of the boat was followed as far as was possible by the
+crowd; and when they could go no farther, every sheltered spot was
+seized upon as a coign of vantage from which to watch the saving of the
+doomed crew.
+
+Leslie was standing close to the harbour wall, sheltering his face with
+his hands as he watched the life-boat fast nearing the mouth of the
+harbour, where the tug of war would commence, when he felt a hand laid
+upon his arm.
+
+He turned sharply, to find Madelaine at his elbow, her hood drawn over
+her head and tightly secured beneath her chin.
+
+He hardly saw her face, though, for close beside her stood another
+closely-hooded figure, whose face was streaming with the spray, while
+strand after strand of her dark hair had been torn from its place by the
+wind, and refused to be controlled.
+
+"Miss Van Heldre!  Miss Vine!"
+
+"Yes.  Where is my father?"
+
+"Here; talking to this coastguardsman."
+
+"And I thought we had lost him," murmured Madelaine.
+
+"But is it wise of you two ladies?" said Leslie, as he grasped Louise's
+hand for a moment.  "The storm is too terrible."
+
+"We could not rest indoors," said Louise.  "My father is down here, is
+he not?"
+
+"I have not seen him.  You want some better shelter."
+
+"No, no; don't think of us," said Louise excitedly; "but if you can help
+in any way."
+
+"You know I will," said Leslie earnestly.
+
+"Here, what are you two girls doing?" said a quick, angry voice.
+"Louie, I'm sure this is no place for you."
+
+Harry spoke to his sister, but his eyes were fixed upon those of Leslie,
+who, however, declined his challenge, as it seemed, to quarrel, and
+glanced at the young man's companion.
+
+At that moment the brothers Vine came up, and there was no farther
+excuse for Harry's fault-finding objections.
+
+"Can't you young fellows do anything to help?" said Uncle Luke.
+
+"I wish you would tell us what to do, Mr Vine," said Leslie coldly.
+
+Just then Van Heldre turned to, and joined them.
+
+"He is afraid the distance is too far," he said dreamily, as if in
+answer to a question.
+
+"For the boat, Mr Van Heldre?" cried Louise.
+
+"No, no; for the rocket apparatus.  Ah!  Vine," he continued, as he saw
+his old friend, "how helpless we are in such a storm!"
+
+No more was said.  It was no time for words.  The members of the two
+families stood together in a group watching the progress of the boat,
+and even Aunt Marguerite's cold and sluggish blood was moved enough to
+draw her to the window, through whose spray and salt-blurred panes she
+could dimly see the tossing light of the brig.
+
+It was indeed no time for words, and even the very breath was held, to
+be allowed to escape in a low hiss of exultation as the life-boat was
+seen to rise suddenly and swiftly up a great bank of water, stand out
+upon its summit for a few moments, and then plunge down out of sight as
+the wave came on, deluged the point, and roared and tumbled over in the
+mouth of the harbour.
+
+It was plain enough now; the life-boat was beyond the protection of the
+point; and its progress was watched as it rose and fell, slowly growing
+more distant, and at times invisible for minutes together.
+
+At such times the excitement seemed beyond bearing.  The boat, all felt,
+must have been swamped, and those on board left tossing in the boiling
+sea.  The catastrophe of the wreck of the brig seemed to be swallowed up
+now in one that was greater; and as Leslie glanced round once, it was to
+see Louise and Madelaine clinging together, wild-eyed and pale.
+
+"There she is!" shouted a voice; and the life-boat was seen to slowly
+rise again, as a hoarse cheer arose--the pent-up excitement of the
+moment.
+
+It seemed an interminable length of time before the life-saving vessel
+reached the brig, and what followed during the next half-hour could only
+be guessed at.  So dark had it become that now only the tossing light on
+board the doomed merchantman could be seen, rising and falling slowly
+with rhythmical regularity, as if those on board were waving to those
+they loved a sad farewell.
+
+Then at last a faint spark was seen for a few moments before it
+disappeared.  Again it shone for a while and again disappeared.
+
+"One of the lanthorns in the life-boat."
+
+"Coming back," said Van Heldre hoarsely.
+
+"With the crew, sir?" cried Leslie.
+
+"Hah!" exclaimed Van Heldre slowly; "that we must see."
+
+Another long time of suspense and horror.  A dozen times over that
+boat's light seemed to have gone for ever, but only to reappear; and at
+last, in the darkness it was seen, after a few minutes' tremendous
+tossing, to become steady.
+
+The life-boat was in the harbour once again, and a ringing burst of
+cheers, that seemed smothered directly after by the roar of the storm,
+greeted the crew as they rowed up to the landing-place, utterly
+exhausted, but bringing with them two half-dead members of the brig's
+crew.
+
+"All we could get to stir," said the sturdy coxswain, "and we could not
+get aboard."
+
+"How many are there?"
+
+"Seven, sir--in main-top.  Half-dead."
+
+"You should have stayed and brought them off," cried Leslie frantically,
+for he did not realise the difficulties of the task the men had had to
+fulfil.
+
+"Who goes next?" cried Van Heldre, as the half-drowned men were borne,
+under the direction of the doctor, to the nearest inn.
+
+"No one can't go again, sir," said the old coxswain sternly.  "It arn't
+to be done."
+
+"A crew must go again," cried Van Heldre.  "We cannot stand here and let
+them perish before our eyes.  Here, my lads!" he roared.  "Volunteers!"
+
+"Mr Leslie!  My father," whispered Madelaine; but the young mine-owner
+was already on his way to where Van Heldre stood.
+
+"Do you hear?" roared the latter.  "Do as you would be done by.
+Volunteers!"
+
+Not a man stirred, the peril was too great.
+
+"It's no good, master," said the old coxswain; "they're gone, poor lads,
+by now."
+
+"No," cried Leslie excitedly; "the light is there still."
+
+"Ay," said the coxswain, "a lamp 'll burn some time longer than a man's
+life.  Here, master, I'll go again, if you can get a crew."
+
+"Volunteers!" shouted Van Heldre, but there was only a confused babble
+of voices, as women clung to their men and held back those who would
+have yielded.
+
+"Are you men!" roared Leslie excitedly; and Madelaine felt her arm
+grasped tightly.  "I say, are you men, to stand there and see those poor
+fellows perish before your eyes!"
+
+"It's throwing lives away," cried a shrill woman's voice.
+
+"Ay, go yoursen," shouted a man angrily.  "I'm going," roared Leslie.
+"Only a landsman.  Now then, is there never a sailor who will come?"
+
+There was a panting, spasmodic cry at Madelaine's ear, one which she
+echoed, as Harry Vine stepped up to Leslie's side.
+
+"Here's another landsman," he cried excitedly.  "Now, Pradelle, come
+on!"
+
+There was no response from his companion, who drew back.
+
+"No, no," panted Madelaine.  "Louie--help me--they must not go."
+
+Her words were drowned in a tremendous cheer, for Van Heldre, without a
+word, had stepped into the life-boat, followed by the two young men.
+
+Example is said to be better than precept.  It was so here, for, with a
+rush, twenty of the sturdy Hakemouth fishers made for the boat, and the
+crew was not only made up, but a dozen men begged Van Heldre and the two
+young men to come out and let others take their places.
+
+"_No_," said Leslie through his set teeth; "not if I never see shore
+again, Henry Vine."
+
+"Is that brag to Hector over me, or British pluck?" said Harry.
+
+"Don't know, my lad.  Are you going ashore?"
+
+"Let's wait and see," muttered Harry, as he tied on the life-preserver
+handed to him.
+
+"Harry, my boy!"
+
+The young man looked up and saw his father on the harbour wall.
+
+"Hallo!  Father!" he said sadly.
+
+"You are too young and weak.  Let some strong man go."
+
+"I can pull an oar as well as most of them, father," he shouted; and
+then to himself: "And if I don't get back--well--I suppose I'm not much
+good."
+
+"Let him go," said Uncle Luke, as he held back his brother.  "Hang the
+boy, he has stuff in him after all."
+
+A busy scene of confusion for a few minutes, and then once more a cheer
+arose, as the life-boat, well manned, parted the waters of the harbour,
+and the lanthorns forward and astern shone with a dull glare as that
+first great wave was reached, up which the boat glided, and then plunged
+down and disappeared.
+
+One long hour of intense agony, but not for those in the boat.  The
+energy called forth, the tremendous struggle, the excitement to which
+every spirit was wrought, kept off agony or fear.  It was like being in
+the supreme moments of a battle-charge, when in the wild whirl there is
+no room for dread, and a man's spirit carries him through to the end.
+
+The agony was on shore, where women clung together no longer weeping,
+but straining their eyes seaward for the dancing lights which dimly
+crept up each billow, and then disappeared, as if never to appear again.
+
+"Madelaine!"
+
+"Louise!"
+
+All that was said as the two girls clasped each other and watched the
+dim lanthorns far at sea.  "Ah!"
+
+Then a loud groan.
+
+"I knowed it couldn't be long."
+
+Then another deep murmur, whose strange intensity had made it dominate
+the shrieks, roars, and thunder of the storm.
+
+The light, which had been slowly waving up and down in the rigging of
+the brig, had disappeared, and it told to all the sad tale--that the
+mast had gone, and with it those who had been clinging in the top.
+
+But the two dim lanthorns in the life-boat went on and on, the thunder
+of the surf on the wreck guiding them.  As the crew toiled away, the
+landsmen sufficiently accustomed to the use of the oar could pretty well
+hold their own, till, in utter despair and hopelessness, after hovering
+hours about the place where the wreck should have been, the life-boat's
+head was laid for the harbour lights; and after a fierce battle to avoid
+being driven beyond, the gallant little crew reached the shelter given
+by the long low point, but several had almost to be lifted to the wharf.
+
+A few jagged and torn timbers, and a couple of bodies cast up among the
+rocks, a couple of miles to the east, were all the traces of Van
+Heldre's handsome brig, which had gone to pieces in the darkness before
+the life-boat, on its second journey, was half-way there.
+
+Volume 1, Chapter XIX.
+
+A BAD NIGHT'S WORK.
+
+"Oh, yes, you're a very brave fellow, no doubt," said Pradelle.
+"Everybody says so.  Perhaps if I could have handled an oar as well as
+you did I should have come too.  But look here, Harry Vine; all these
+find words butter no parsnips.  You are no better off than you were
+before, and you gave me your promise."
+
+It was quite true: fine words buttered no parsnips.  Aunt Marguerite had
+called him her gallant young hero; Louise had kissed him affectionately;
+his father had shaken hands very warmly; Uncle Luke had given him a nod,
+and Van Heldre had said a few kindly words, while there was always a
+smile for him among the fishermen who hung about the harbour.  But that
+was all; he was still Van Heldre's clerk, and with a dislike to his
+position, which had become intensified since Madelaine had grown cold,
+and her intimacy with Leslie had seemed to increase.
+
+"Look here," said Pradelle; "it's time I was off."
+
+"Why?  What for?" said Harry, as they sat among the rocks.
+
+"Because I feel as if I were being made a fool."
+
+"Why, every one is as civil to you as can be.  My father--"
+
+"Oh, yes; the old man's right enough."
+
+"My aunt."
+
+"Yes, wish she wasn't so old, Harry, and had some money; I'd marry her."
+
+"Don't be a fool."
+
+"Not going to be; so I tell you I'm off."
+
+"No, no, don't go.  This place will be unbearable when you are gone."
+
+"Can't help it, dear boy.  I must do something to increase my income,
+and if you will not join in and make a fortune, why I must go and find
+some one who will."
+
+"But I dare not, Vic."
+
+"You gave me your word--the word of a gentleman.  I ask you to borrow
+the money for a week or two, and then we would replace it, and nobody be
+a bit the wiser, while we shall be on the high-road to fortune and fair
+France."
+
+"I tell you I dare not."
+
+"Then I shall do it myself."
+
+"No, that you shall not."
+
+"Then you shall."
+
+"I daren't."
+
+"Bah! what a milksop you are; you have nothing to care for here.  Miss
+Van Heldre has pitched you over because you are now her father's clerk."
+
+"Let that be, please."
+
+"And taken up with Mr Bagpipes."
+
+"Do you want to quarrel, Pradelle?"
+
+"Not I, dear boy; I'm dumb."
+
+He said no more on that subject, but he had said enough.  That was the
+truth then.  Madelaine had given him up on that account, and the sting
+rankled in Harry's breast.
+
+"Money goes to the bank every day, you say?" said Pradelle.
+
+"Yes.  Crampton takes it."
+
+"But that sum of money in notes?  How much is there of that?"
+
+"Five hundred."
+
+"Why don't that go to the bank?"
+
+"I don't know.  A deposit, I think; likely to be called for."
+
+"May be; but that's our game, Harry.  The other could not be managed
+without being missed; this, you see, is not in use."
+
+"Pradelle, it's madness."
+
+"Say Vic, dear boy."
+
+"Well, Vic, I say it's madness."
+
+"Nothing of the kind.  It's making use of a little coin that you can get
+at easily.  Why, hang it, old fellow, you talk as if I were asking you
+to steal the money."
+
+"Hush!  Don't talk like that."
+
+"Well, you aggravate me so.  Now, am I trying to serve you, or am I
+not?"
+
+"To serve me, of course."
+
+"Yes, and you behave like a child."
+
+"I want to behave like an honourable man to my father's friend."
+
+"Oh, if you are going to preach I'm off."
+
+"I'm not going to preach."
+
+"Then do act like a man.  Here is your opportunity.  You know what the
+old chap said about the tide in the affairs of men?"
+
+Harry nodded.
+
+"Well, your tide is at its height.  You are going to seize your
+opportunity, and then you can do as you like.  Why you might turn the
+tables on Miss Madelaine."
+
+"If you don't want to quarrel just leave her name alone," said Harry,
+with a bulldog-like growl.
+
+"Oh, I'll never mention it again if you like.  Now, then, once for all,
+is it business?"
+
+Harry was silent for a few minutes, and then replied--
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Your hand on it."
+
+Harry stretched out his hand unwillingly, and it was taken and held.
+
+"I shall hold you to it now, my lad.  Now, then, when is it to be?"
+
+"Oh, first opportunity."
+
+"No: it's going to be now--to-night--as soon as it's dark."
+
+"Nonsense, it must be some day--when Crampton is not there."
+
+"That means it will not be done at all, for Crampton never leaves; you
+told me so.  Look here, Harry Vine, if you borrow the amount then, and
+it's missed, of course you are asked directly, and there you are.  No,
+my lad, you'll have to go to-night."
+
+"But it will be like housebreaking."
+
+"Bah!  You'll go quietly in by the back way, make your way along the
+passage to Van Heldre's room, take the keys down from the hook--"
+
+"How did you know that the keys hung there?"
+
+"Because, my dear little man, I have wormed it all out of you by
+degrees.  To continue; you will go down the glass passage, open the
+office door, go to the safe, open that, get the two hundred--"
+
+"Two hundred!  You said fifty would do."
+
+"Yes, but then I said a hundred, and now I think two will be better.
+Easier paid back.  You can work more spiritedly with large sums than
+with small.  You've got to do this, Harry Vine, so no nonsense."
+
+Harry was silent.
+
+"When you have the notes, you will lock all up as before, and then if
+they are missing before we return them, which is not likely, who can say
+that you have been there?  Bah! don't be so squeamish.  You've got to do
+that to-night.  You have promised, and you shall.  It is for your good,
+my lad."
+
+"Yes, and yours," said Harry gloomily.
+
+"Of course.  Emancipation for us both."
+
+Harry was silent, and soon after they rose and strolled back to the old
+house, where through the open window came the strains of music, and the
+voices of Madelainc and Louise harmonised in a duet.
+
+"One less at Van Heldre's, lad.  The old man will be having his evening
+pipe, and the doors open.  Nothing could be better.  Half-past nine,
+mind, while they are at tea.  It will be quite dark then."
+
+Harry was silent, and the two young men entered and sat down, their
+coming seeming to cast a damp on the little party, for the music was put
+aside and work taken up, Vine being busy with some notes of his day's
+observations of the actions of a newly-found mollusc.
+
+Tea was brought in at about a quarter past nine, and Pradelle rose and
+went to the window.
+
+"What a beautiful night, Harry," he said.  "Coming for half an hour's
+stroll before bed?"
+
+"Don't you want some tea?" said Harry, loudly.
+
+"No.  Do you?"
+
+"No," said Harry shortly; and he rose and went out, followed by his
+friend.
+
+"You mean this then," he said, as soon as they were out on the cliff.
+
+"No; but you do.  There is just time for it, so now go."
+
+Harry hesitated for a few minutes, and then strode off down toward the
+town, Pradelle keeping step with him, till they reached the street where
+a lane branched off, going round by the back of Van Heldre's house, but
+on a higher level, a flight of steps leading down into the half garden,
+half yard, overlooked by the houses at the back, whose basements were
+level with Van Heldre's first floor.
+
+The time selected by Pradelle for the carrying out of his scheme
+happened to be Crampton's club night, and, according to his weekly
+custom, he had gone to the old-fashioned inn where it was kept, passing
+a muffled-up figure as he went along, the said figure turning in at one
+of the low entrances leading to dock premises as the old clerk came out,
+so that he did not see the face.
+
+It was a trifling matter, but it was not the first time Crampton had
+seen this figure loitering about at night, and it somehow impressed him
+so that he did not enjoy his one glass of spirits and water and his
+pipe.  But the matter seemed to have slipped his memory for the time
+that he was transacting his club business, making entries and the like.
+Later on it came back with renewed force.
+
+Harry and Pradelle parted in the dark lane with very few more words
+spoken, the understanding being that they should meet at home at
+half-past nine.
+
+As soon as the former was alone, he walked slowly on round the front of
+Van Heldre's house, and there, according to custom, sat the merchant,
+smoking his nightly pipe, resting one arm upon the table, with the
+shaded lamp shining down on his bald forehead, and a thoughtful, dreamy
+look in his eyes.  Mrs Van Heldre was seated opposite, working and
+respecting her husband's thoughtful mood, for he was in low spirits
+respecting the wreck of his ship.  Insurance made up the monetary loss,
+but nothing could restore the poor fellows who had gone down.
+
+Harry stood on the opposite side, watching thoughtfully.
+
+"It would be very easy," he said to himself.  "Just as we planned, I can
+slip round to the back, drop in the garden, go in, take the keys, get
+the money, lock up again, and go and hang up the keys.  Yes; how easy
+for any one who knows, and how risky it seems for him to leave his place
+like that.  But then it is people's want of knowledge which forms the
+safest lock."
+
+"Yes," he said, after a pause, as he stood there in profound ignorance
+of the fact that the muffled-up figure which had taken Crampton's
+attention was in a low dark doorway, watching his every movement.  "Yes;
+it would be very easy; and in spite of all your precious gloss, Master
+Victor Pradelle, I should feel the next moment that I had been a thief;
+and I'll drudge as a clerk till I'm ninety-nine before I'll do anything
+of the kind."
+
+He thrust his hands into his pockets and turned off down by the harbour
+side, and hardly had he reached the water when Pradelle walked slowly up
+to the front of the house, noted the positions of those within by taking
+his stand just beneath the arched doorway opposite, and so close to the
+watcher that they nearly touched.
+
+The next moment Pradelle had passed on.
+
+"I knew he hadn't the pluck," he muttered bitterly.  "A contemptible
+hound!  Well, he shall see."
+
+Without a moment's hesitation, and as if he were quite at home about the
+place, Pradelle went round to the narrow back lane and stood by the gate
+leading down the steps into the yard.  As he pressed the gate it gave
+way, and he could see that the doorway into the glazed passage was open,
+for the light in the hall shone through.
+
+There was no difficulty at all; and after a moment's hesitation he
+stepped lightly down, ready with an excuse that he was seeking Harry, if
+he should meet any one; but the excuse was not needed.  He walked softly
+and boldly into the passage, turned to his right, and entered the back
+room, which acted as Van Heldre's private office and study.  The keys
+lay where he knew them to be--in a drawer, which he opened and took them
+out, and then walked straight along the glazed passage to the office.
+The door yielded to the key, and he entered.  The inner office was
+locked, but that was opened by a second key, and the safe showed dimly
+by the reflected lights which shone through the barred window.
+
+"How easy these things are!" said Pradelle to himself, as he unlocked
+the safe; "enough to tempt a man to be a burglar."
+
+The iron door creaked faintly as he drew it open, and then began to feel
+about hastily, and with the perspiration streaming from his forehead.
+Books in plenty, but no notes.
+
+With an exclamation of impatience, he drew out a little match-box,
+struck a light, and saw that there was an iron drawer low down.  The
+flame went out, but he had seen enough, and stooping he dragged out the
+drawer, thrust in his hand, which came in contact with a leaden paper
+weight, beneath which, tied round with tape, was a bundle of notes.
+
+"Hah!" he muttered with a half laugh, "I can't stop to count you.  Yes,
+I must, or they'll miss 'em.  It's tempting though.  Humph! tied both--"
+
+_Thud_!
+
+One heavy blow on the back of Victor Pradelle's head which sent him
+staggering forward against the door of the safe: then he felt in a
+confused, half-stunned way that something had been snatched from his
+hand.  A dead silence followed, during which his head swam, but he had
+sufficient sense left to totter across the outer office, and along the
+passage to the garden yard.
+
+How he got outside into the little lane he could not afterwards
+remember, his next recollection being of sitting down on the steps by
+the water-side bathing his face.
+
+Five minutes before Harry Vine had been in that very spot, from which he
+turned to go home.
+
+"Let him say what he likes," muttered the young man; "I must have been
+mad to listen to him.  Why--"
+
+Harry Vine stopped short, for a thought had struck him like a flash.
+
+How it was--why he should have such a suspicion he could not tell; but a
+terrible thought had seemed to burn into his brain.  Then he felt
+paralysed as he shivered, and uttering an ejaculation full of rage and
+anger, he started off at a run towards Van Heldre's place.
+
+"Nonsense!" he said to himself, and he checked his headlong speed.
+"What folly!"
+
+He walked on past a group of seamen, who had just quitted a
+public-house, and was about to turn up the lane which led to his home,
+when the thought came once more.
+
+"Curse him!" he said, half aloud, "I'd sooner kill him," and hurrying
+back, he made straight for the lane behind Van Heldre's.
+
+The gate yielded, he stepped down quickly into the yard, walked to the
+open door, looked to the right toward the hall, and then to the left
+toward the office.  A dim light shone down the passage, and his heart
+seemed to stand still.  The office door was open, and without hesitation
+he turned down the passage panting with horror, as he felt that his
+suspicions were confirmed.  He crossed the outer room, the inner door
+was shut, and entering he paused for a moment.
+
+"Vic!" he whispered harshly.
+
+All was still.
+
+Trembling now with agitation, he was rapidly crossing to the safe when
+he stepped on something which gave beneath his feet, and he nearly fell
+headlong.
+
+Recovering himself, he stooped down to pick up the heavy ebony ruler
+used by old Crampton, and polished by rubs of his coat-tail till it
+shone.
+
+Harry felt giddy now with excitement, but he went to the safe door, felt
+that it was swung open, and groaning to himself, "Too late, too late!"
+he bent his head and felt for the drawer.
+
+Empty!
+
+"You scoundrel!" he groaned; "but he shall give up every note, and--"
+
+Once more he felt as if paralysed, for as he turned from the safe he
+knew that he was not alone in the office.
+
+Caught in the act!  Burglary--the open safe--the notes gone, who would
+believe in his innocence?
+
+He could think of nothing else, as he heard Van Heldre's voice in the
+darkness--one fierce angry utterance--"Who's there?"
+
+"He does not know me," flashed through Harry Vine's brain.
+
+"You villain!" cried Van Heldre, springing at him.
+
+It was the instinctive act of one smitten by terror, despair, shame, and
+the desire to escape--a mad act, but prompted by the terrible position.
+As Van Heldre sprang at him and grasped at his breast, Harry Vine struck
+with all his might, the heavy ruler fell with a sickening crash upon the
+unguarded head, he felt a sudden tug, and with a groan his father's
+friend sank senseless on the floor.
+
+For one moment Harry Vine stood bending over his victim; then uttering a
+hoarse sigh, he leaped over the body and fled.
+
+END OF VOLUME ONE.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter I.
+
+IN THE BLACK SHADOW.
+
+Mrs Van Heldre let her work fall in her lap and gazed across at her
+husband.
+
+"I suppose Harry Vine will walk home with Madelaine?" she said.
+
+"Eh?  Maddy?  I'd forgotten her," said Van Heldre, laying down his pipe.
+"No; I'll go up and fetch her myself."
+
+"Do, dear, but don't stay."
+
+"Not I," was the reply; and going out of the dining-room, where he
+always sat when he had his evening pipe, the merchant went into the
+study, where by the dim light he saw that his writing-table drawer was
+open,
+
+"How's that?" he thought.  "Did I--No."
+
+He ran out into the passage, saw that his office door was open, and
+entered to receive the blow which laid him senseless before the safe.
+
+Van Heldre did not lie there long.
+
+Crampton came away from the old inn, stick in hand, conscious of having
+done a good evening's work over the business of the Fishermen's Benefit
+Club, the men having paid up with unusual regularity; but all the same,
+he did not feel satisfied.  Those pedlar sailor men troubled him.  They
+had been hanging about the town for some time, and though he knew
+nothing against them, he had, as a respectable householder, a confirmed
+dislike to all nomadic trading gentry.  To him they were, whether Jew or
+Gentile, French or German, all gipsies, and belonging to a class who, to
+use his words, never took anything out of their reach.
+
+He felt sure that the man he had seen in the darkness was one of these,
+and warning himself now for not having taken further notice of the
+matter, he determined to call at his employer's on his way home to
+mention the fact.
+
+"Better late than never," he said, and he stumped steadily down the main
+street as a man walks who is possessed of a firm determination to do his
+duty.
+
+As he went on he peered down every one of the dark, narrow alleys which
+led to the waterside places, all reeking of tar and old cordage, and
+creosoted nets, and with more than a suspicion of the celebrated ancient
+and fish-like smell so often quoted.
+
+"If I had my way," said Crampton, "I'd have a lamp at each end of those
+places.  They're too dark--too dark."
+
+But though he scanned each place carefully, he did not see any lurking
+figure, and he went on till he reached his employer's house, where,
+through the well-lit window, he could see Mrs Van Heldre looking plump,
+rosy, and smiling, as she busied herself in putting away her work.
+
+Crampton stopped at the opposite side, took off his hat and scratched
+his head.
+
+"Now if I go and tell him what I think, he'll call me a nervous old
+fool, and abuse me for frightening his wife."
+
+He hesitated, and instead of going to the front door, feeling that
+perhaps, after all, he had taken an exaggerated view of things, he went
+on to the corner of the house and lane, with the intention of having a
+look round and then going on home.
+
+He had just gone about half-way, when there was a loud rap given by the
+gate leading down into Van Heldre's yard.  Some one had thrown it
+violently back against the wooden stop, and that somebody had sprung out
+and run down the lane in the opposite direction to that by which the old
+clerk had come.
+
+"Hah!" he ejaculated, and hurrying on he hastily descended the steps,
+entered the passage, and trembling now in every limb, made his way into
+the office, where, with all the regular method of the man of business,
+he quickly took a box of matches from the chimney-piece, and turned on
+and lit one of the gas-burners.
+
+The soft light from the ground-glass globe showed nothing wrong as he
+glanced round.
+
+Yes: something was missing--the heavy ebony ruler which always reposed
+on the two brass hooks like a weapon of war at the end of his desk.
+That was gone.
+
+Crampton's brow knitted, and his hands shook so that he could hardly
+strike a second match, as he pushed open the door and entered the inner
+office, where, forcing himself not to look round, he lit another gas-jet
+before taking in the scene at a glance.
+
+There lay Van Heldre, bleeding profusely from a terrible cut on the
+forehead, the safe was open, and in a very few minutes the old clerk
+knew that the packet of bank-notes was gone.
+
+"But I've got all their numbers entered," he said to himself, as he went
+down on his knee by his master's side, and now, knowing the worst,
+growing moment by moment more calm and self-contained.
+
+His first act was to take his voluminous white cravat from his neck, and
+bind it tightly round Van Heldre's temples to staunch the bleeding.
+
+"I knew no good would come of it," he muttered.  "I felt it from the
+first.  Are you much hurt, sir?" he said aloud, with his lips close to
+the injured man's ear.
+
+There was no reply: just a spasm and a twitching of the hands.
+
+"What shall I do?" thought Crampton.  "Give the alarm?  No: only
+frighten those poor women into fits.  Fetch the doctor."
+
+He hurried out by the back way as quietly as he could, and caught the
+principal medical man just as he was going up to bed for a quiet night.
+
+"Eh?  Van Heldre?" he said.  "Bless my soul!  On directly.  Back way?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Crampton hurried out, displaying wonderful activity for so old a man,
+and took the police station on his way back.
+
+The force in Hakemouth was represented by a sergeant and two men, the
+former residing at the cottage which bore the words "Police Station"
+over the door.
+
+"Where is your husband?" said Crampton to a brisk-looking woman.
+
+"On his rounds, sir."
+
+"I want him at our office.  Can I find him?  Can you?"
+
+"I know where he'll be in about ten minutes, sir," said the woman
+promptly, as if she were a doctor's helpmate.
+
+"Very well," said Crampton.  "Get him and send him on."
+
+The divergence had taken so long that he had hardly reached the office
+and poured out some water from a table filter, to bathe the injured
+man's face, when he heard the doctor's step.
+
+"Hah!" said the latter, after a brief examination, "we must get him to
+bed, Mr Crampton."
+
+"Is he much hurt, sir?"
+
+"Badly.  There is a fracture of the skull.  It must have been a terrible
+blow.  Thieves, of course?"
+
+"Or thief, sir," said the old clerk, with his lip quivering.  "My dear
+master! what would his poor father have said?"
+
+"Hush!  Be firm, man," said the doctor, who was busy readjusting the
+bandage.  "Does Mrs Van Heldre know?"  Crampton shook his head.  "I
+found him like this, sir, and came over to fetch you at once."
+
+"But she must be told."
+
+"John, John dear, are you there?  I thought you had gone on to fetch
+Madelaine."
+
+Crampton rose hastily to try and bar the way; but he was too late.  Mrs
+Van Heldre was at the door, and had caught a glimpse of the prostrate
+man.
+
+"Doctor Knatchbull! what is the matter--a fit?"
+
+The trouble was culminating, for another voice was heard in the glass
+corridor.
+
+"Papa! papa! here is Mr Vine.  He walked home with me.  I made him come
+in.  Oh, what a shame to be at work so late!"
+
+"Keep her--keep her back," gasped Mrs Van Heldre, and then with a
+piteous sob she sank down by Van Heldre's side.
+
+"John, my husband! speak to me, oh, speak," she moaned as she raised his
+head to her lap.
+
+"Ah, you want Brother Luke to you, John Van," cried Vine, as with
+Madelaine on his arm he came to the door of the inner room.
+
+There was a moment's silence, and then Madelaine uttered a wild cry, and
+ran to her father's side.
+
+"Good heavens!  Crampton, what is it?" cried Vine excitedly,--"a fit?"
+
+"No, sir, struck down by a villain--a thief--and that thief--"
+
+Crampton stopped short in the midst of his excitement, for there was a
+heavy step now in the passage, and the sergeant of police and one of his
+men came in.
+
+"Yes.  I've had my eye on a couple of strangers lately," he said, as he
+took out a book and gave a sharp look round.  "P'r'aps Mr Crampton,
+sir, you'll give me the information I want."
+
+"Mr Crampton will give you no information at all," said the
+keen-looking doctor angrily.  "The first thing is to save the man's
+life.  Here, sergeant, and you, my man, help me to carry him up to his
+bed--or no--well, yes, he'll be better in his own room.  Pray, ladies,
+pray stand aside."
+
+"Yes, yes," cried Madelaine excitedly, as she rose.  "Mother, dear, we
+must be calm and helpful."
+
+"Yes; but--but--" moaned the poor woman.
+
+"Yes, dearest," cried Madelaine, "afterwards.  Dr Knatchbull wants our
+help."
+
+"Good girl," said the doctor, nodding.  "Get the scissors, some old
+linen, and basin, sponge and water, in the bedroom."
+
+"Yes, doctor," said Madelaine, perfectly calm and self-contained now.
+"Mother, dear, I want your help."
+
+She knelt down and pressed her lips for a moment to her father's cheek,
+and then placed her arm round her mother, and led her away.
+
+An hour later, when everything possible had been done, and Mrs Van
+Heldre was seated by her husband's pillow, Vine being on the other side
+holding his friend's hand, Madelaine showed the doctor into the next
+room.
+
+"Tell me," she said firmly.  "I want to know the truth."
+
+"My dear child," said the doctor, "you know all that I know.  Some
+scoundrel must have been surprised by your father, and--"
+
+"Doctor," said Madelaine quietly, and with her clear matter-of-fact eyes
+gazing into his, "I have been praying for strength to help my mother and
+my poor father in this terrible affliction.  I feel as if the strength
+had been given to me, so speak now as if I were a woman whom you could
+trust.  Tell me the whole truth."
+
+The doctor gazed at her with a look full of admiration, and taking her
+hand, he said kindly:
+
+"I was treating you as if you were a girl, but I will tell you the
+truth.  I am going to telegraph to town for Mr Reston; there is a
+fracture and pressure on the brain."
+
+"And great danger, doctor?"
+
+"Yes," he said, after a pause, "and great danger.  But, please God, my
+child, we will save his life.  He is a fine, strong, healthy man.
+There: I can say no more."
+
+"Thank you," said Madelaine calmly, and she quietly left the room.
+
+"Any one might think that she did not feel it," said the doctor slowly;
+"but I know better than that.  It's wonderful what a woman will suffer
+without making a sign.  I cannot telegraph till eight o'clock, but I may
+as well write my message," he muttered, as he went down-stairs.  "Humph!
+the news is spreading.  Somebody come."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter II.
+
+HARRY LOOKS THE FACT IN THE FACE.
+
+Harry Vine checked his headlong pace as soon as he was out of the lane,
+and walked swiftly along by the harbour till he reached the sea.  Here,
+in the shelter of a rock, he stooped down and lit a cigar, before
+throwing himself on a patch of shingle, and holding his temples with his
+hands, as he tried to quell the tumult in his brain and to think calmly.
+
+But it was in vain.  He felt half mad, and as if the best way out of his
+difficulty was to go and leap into the sea.
+
+"Curse Pradelle!" he groaned.  "I wish I had never seen him--coward,
+thief, cheat!  Oh, what am I talking about?  Why didn't I face it, and
+tell Van Heldre the honest truth?  I was innocent.  No, no: I was as bad
+as Pradelle, and he shall disgorge.  Every penny shall go back.  If he
+says no, come what may, I'll out with the whole truth."
+
+"I couldn't help it," he groaned after a pause.  "I'd give anything to
+have frankly told the truth."
+
+He walked quickly home, and assuming a calmness he did not feel, entered
+the drawing-room, where Louise was seated reading.
+
+"Your company gone?" he said roughly.
+
+"Yes, dear.  Papa has walked home with Madelaine."
+
+Harry turned sharply round, for he mentally pictured in one agonising
+thought the scene at Van Heldre's home.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked Louise.
+
+"Matter?  No.  It's very dark outside, and the light makes one's eyes
+ache.  Seen Pradelle?"
+
+"No, dear," said Louise gravely.  "I thought he went out with you."
+
+"Yes, of course, but he likes to go wandering about the town.  I wanted
+a quiet smoke by the waterside.  I'm tired.  I think I shall go up to
+bed."
+
+"Do, dear.  I'll wait till papa comes."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, Harry dear," she said, rising, and, putting her arms round
+his neck, she laid her cheek to his.  "Good-night, dear.  Harry darling,
+don't worry about the work.  Do it like a brave, true man; it will make
+father so happy."
+
+There was a sudden catching sob in Harry Vine's throat, as, like a
+flash, the memory of old happy boy and girl days came back.  He caught
+his sister to his breast, and held her tightly there as he kissed her
+passionately again and again.
+
+"My darling brother!" cried Louise as she tightened her grasp about his
+neck.  "And you will try for all our sakes?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he said in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Never mind what poor aunt says.  Be a man--a frank, honourable man,
+Harry.  It is the order of the true _haute noblesse_ after all.  You
+will try?"
+
+"Please God, yes, Lou--so hard--ah, so hard."
+
+"That's like my dear brother once again," she cried, fondling him.
+"There, darling, I'm speaking to you like our mother would.  Let me be
+young mother to you as well as sister.  You will begin again?"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," he whispered hoarsely; "from this moment, Lou, I will."
+
+"May I say more?" she said gently, as her hand played about his brow.
+
+"Yes, anything, Lou; anything.  I've been a fool, but that's all over
+now."
+
+"Then about Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"Curse Mr Pradelle," he cried passionately.  "I wish I had never
+brought him here."
+
+"Don't curse, dear," said Louise, with a sigh of relief.  "Yes, there
+has been an ugly cloud over this house, but it is lifting fast, Harry
+dear, and we are all going to be very happy once again.  Good-night."
+
+He could not speak; something seemed to choke him; but he strained her
+to his heart, and ran out of the room.
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated Louise; and throwing herself into a chair, she burst
+into a passion of weeping; but her tears were those of joy, and a relief
+to her overburdened heart.
+
+"Is it too late?" said Harry to himself, as a cold chilly hand seemed to
+grasp his heart.  "No; I can keep my own secret, and I will turn over a
+new leaf now, and old Crampton shall rule it for me.  What an idiot I
+have been!"
+
+He shuddered as he recalled the scene in Van Heldre's office, and
+involuntarily held his hands close to the landing-lamp.
+
+"Poor old fellow!" he said, as his hand involuntarily went towards his
+vest; "but he'll soon get over that.  He couldn't have known me in the
+dark.  I--My locket!"
+
+He turned like ice as he gazed down to see that the gold locket he wore
+at his watch-chain had been torn off.
+
+"No, no; I lost it when I threw myself down on the shingle," he
+muttered, as he fingered the broken link.  "I could not have lost it
+there."
+
+Just then he started, for there was a faint cough on his left.
+
+"Then he has come back," he cried hastily; and going a few steps along
+the passage he tapped sharply, and entered Pradelle's room.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter III.
+
+THE PUNISHMENT BEGINS.
+
+Pradelle was seated in a low chair with his head resting on his hand.
+He looked up curiously at Harry as the young man hastily closed and
+locked the door.
+
+"You've come at last, then," said Pradelle sourly, as he winced from the
+pain he was in.
+
+"Yes, I've come at last," replied Harry.  "Now, Pradelle, no nonsense!
+There has been enough of this.  Where is the money?"
+
+"Where's what?"
+
+"The money--those notes."
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Then I'll tell you plainly.  I want five hundred pounds in Bank of
+England notes, stolen by you from Mr Van Heldre's safe."
+
+Pradelle sank back in his chair.
+
+"I like that," he said, with a low, sneering laugh.
+
+"No nonsense.  Give me those notes."
+
+"You mean you want to give me the notes."
+
+"I mean what I say," cried Harry, in a low, angry voice.
+
+"Why, you went and got them, as we agreed."
+
+"I did not go and get them as we agreed."
+
+"Yes, you did, for I saw you."
+
+"How dare you, you lying cur!" cried Harry, seizing him by the throat
+and holding him back against the chair.  "Give me the notes."
+
+"Don't! don't!  You've hurt me enough once to-night.  Look! my head's
+bleeding now."
+
+Harry loosened his grasp, for the fact was patent.
+
+"I--I hurt you?"
+
+"Yes, with that ruler.  What made you hit me like that?  Take me for old
+Van Heldre?"
+
+Harry's jaw dropped, and he stared wildly at his companion.
+
+"I--I hit you!" he faltered, as he struggled with his memory and asked
+himself whether he had stricken Pradelle down and not the old merchant.
+
+"Well, I've got a cut two inches long and my head all swollen up.  What
+made you do it?"
+
+"I--do it!  Here, what do you mean?"
+
+"Mean?  Why, that you were so long getting the loan--"
+
+"Say stealing the notes.  It would be more like the truth," said Harry
+shortly.
+
+"I won't.  I say you were so long getting the loan that I came to see
+what you were about, and you flew at me and knocked me down with the big
+ruler.  Took me for a watchman, I suppose."
+
+"But when?--where?" cried Harry excitedly.
+
+"Where?  By the safe; inner office.  What a fool you were!"
+
+"Impossible!" thought Harry, as his confusion wore off.  "Look here," he
+cried aloud, "this is a mean, contemptible lie.  You have the money;
+give it me, I say."
+
+"Supposing I had it," snarled Pradelle, "what for?"
+
+"To restore it to its owner."
+
+"Well, seeing that I haven't got the money, I say you shall not give it
+back.  If I had got it I'd say the same."
+
+"You have got it.  Come, no excuses."
+
+"I tell you I haven't got a penny.  You struck me down after you had
+taken it from the safe."
+
+"It's a lie!" cried Harry fiercely.  "I was not going to do the accursed
+work, and I did not strike you down."
+
+"Then look here," cried Pradelle, pointing to his injured head.
+
+"I know nothing about that.  You have the money, and I'll have it before
+I leave this room."
+
+"You'll be clever, then," sneered Pradelle.
+
+"Will you give it me?"
+
+"No.  How can I?"
+
+"Don't make me wild, Pradelle, for I'm desperate enough without that.
+Give me those notes, or, by all that's holy, I'll go straight to the
+police and charge you with the theft."
+
+"Do," said Pradelle, "if you dare."
+
+The man's coolness staggered Harry for the moment.
+
+"If I'd got the money do you think I should be fool enough to make all
+this fuss?  What do you mean?  What game are you playing?  Come, honour
+among--I mean, be square with me.  You've got the notes."
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated Harry, with a look of disgust.  "I tell you I have
+not."
+
+"Harry!  Harry!"
+
+It was his sister's voice, and he heard her knocking sharply at his
+door.
+
+"Look here, Pradelle, you've got those notes, and I tell you once more,
+you have to give them up or it's a case of police."
+
+He had been moving towards the door, which he unfastened and threw open.
+
+"I'm here, Louie," he said.
+
+"Quick, dear!  A message from papa.  We are to go to Mr Van Heldre's at
+once."
+
+"Van Heldre's?" faltered Harry, whose legs seemed to give way beneath
+him.
+
+"Yes, dear; a policeman brought the message."
+
+"A policeman?"
+
+"Something is wrong.  No, no, don't turn like that.  It is not father,
+but Mr Van Heldre, so the man said.  I think it is a fall."
+
+Harry Vine's breath came thick and short.  What should he do?  Fly at
+once?  No; that meant being taken and brought ignominiously back.
+
+"Don't hesitate, dear," said Louise; "pray come quickly."
+
+"Yes," said Harry huskily.  "Of course, I'll come on.  Will you--you go
+first?"
+
+"Harry, what are you thinking, dear?  Why do you look so shocked?
+Indeed I am not deceiving you."
+
+"Deceiving me?"
+
+"No, dear: I am sure it is not papa who is hurt.  There, come along, and
+see--for Madelaine's sake."
+
+She said these last words very softly, almost in a whisper; but the only
+effect they had upon him was to make him shudder.
+
+What should he do--face the danger or go?  He must face it; he knew he
+must.  It was his only hope, and already his sister was hurrying him to
+the door--his sister, perhaps unconsciously to hand him over to the
+police.
+
+"No," he said to himself, with an attempt to be firm, "he could not have
+seen me; but was it after all Pradelle I struck down?"
+
+A chill shot through him.
+
+The locket torn from his watch-chain?
+
+"Why, Harry dear, you seem quite upset."
+
+"Upset--I--yes, it is so sudden.  I am a bit--there, I'm all right now."
+
+"Poor Madelaine! she must be in sad trouble."
+
+Greater than the speaker realised.
+
+She was in the dining-room with the elder Vine, and hung for a few
+moments on Louise's neck to sob forth her troubles when she entered.
+Then, without a word or look at Harry, she hurried up-stairs.
+
+"Why did you not speak to her, Harry?" whispered Louise.
+
+He made no reply, but sat listening to his father, his eyes dilated and
+throat dry.
+
+"And--and do they suspect any one?" whispered the young man in a voice
+he did not know for his own.
+
+"No: the police have been away since, and they think they have a clue--
+two pedlars, who have been about the place lately."
+
+"And Mr Van Heldre--is--is he badly hurt?"
+
+"Very badly.  It is doubtful whether he can recover."
+
+The young man's breath came and went in a strange labouring way as he
+sat rigidly upon his seat, while his father went on telling him fact
+after fact that the son knew only too well.
+
+"Poor Van Heldre!  First the ship, then this terrible calamity.
+Crampton tells me that there was a sum of money deposited in the safe--
+five hundred pounds in notes, and all gone--every penny--all gone.  Poor
+old Crampton! he almost worshipped Van Heldre.  He is nearly wild with
+grief.  One minute he scowled at me savagely; the next minute he was
+apologetic.  It's a terrible business, children.  I thought you had
+better both come on, for, of course, I could not leave now."
+
+Just then Mrs Van Heldre came down, looking red-eyed and pale, to take
+Louise to her breast.
+
+"Thank you, my dear, thank you," she sobbed; "it was like you to come.
+And you too, Harry Vine."  She took and pressed the young man's hand,
+which was dank and cold.  Then, in a quick access of gratitude, she laid
+her hands upon his shoulders, and kissed him.
+
+"Thank you, my dear," she said in a voice broken with sobs.  "You seem
+always to have been like Maddy's brother.  I might have known that you
+would come."
+
+If ever man suffered agony, that man was Harry Vine as he listened to
+the poor simple-hearted woman's thanks.  His punishment had commenced,
+and every time the door opened he gave a guilty start, and turned white
+as ash.
+
+"Don't take it like that, Harry," said Louise tenderly.  "There is
+always hope, dear."
+
+She looked lovingly in his eyes, and pressed his hand, as their father
+went on talking in a low voice, and giving utterance to his thoughts.
+
+"The scoundrels, as far as I can make out, Harry, my boy, seem to have
+got in by the back.  The door was unfastened, and they must have known a
+good deal about the place--by watching I suppose, for they knew where to
+find the keys, and how to open the safe."
+
+Harry's breath came in a spasmodic way, as he sat there chained, as it
+were, to his place.
+
+"Five hundred pounds.  A very heavy sum.  I must not blame him, poor
+fellow, but I should have thought it a mistake to have so large a sum in
+the house."
+
+At last the doctor descended looking very grave.
+
+"Ah, Knatchbull," said Vine in an excited whisper as he rose and caught
+the doctor's hand; "how is he?"
+
+The doctor shook his head.
+
+"Has he recovered his senses?"
+
+"_No_."
+
+"Nor said a word about who his assailants were?"
+
+"No, sir, nor is he likely to for some time to come."
+
+Harry Vine sat with his eyes closed, not daring to look; and, as the
+doctor's words came, a terrible weight of dread seemed to be lifted from
+his brain.
+
+"I may go up now, may I not?"
+
+"No, sir, certainly not," said the doctor.
+
+"But we are such old friends; we were boys together, Knatchbull."
+
+"If you were twin-brothers, sir, I should say the same.  Why, do you
+know, sir, I've forbidden Mrs Van Heldre to go into the room.  She
+could not control her feelings, and absolute silence is indispensable."
+
+"Then he is alone?"
+
+"No, no; his daughter is with him.  By George!  Mr Vine, if I had been
+a married man instead of a surly old soured bachelor, I should be so
+proud and jealous of such a girl as Miss Van Heldre that I should have
+been ready to poison the first young fellow who dared to think about
+her."
+
+"We are all very proud of Madelaine," said Vine slowly.  "I love her as
+if she were my own child."
+
+"Humph! your sister is not," said the doctor dryly.
+
+"No, my sister is not," said the old man slowly.
+
+"Then, now, Mr Vine, if you please, I am going to ask you people to
+go."
+
+"Go?" said Vine, in angry remonstrance.
+
+"Yes; you can do nothing.  No change is likely to take place perhaps for
+days, and with Miss Van Heldre for nurse and Crampton to act as my help
+if necessary, there will be plenty of assistance here.  What I want most
+is quiet."
+
+"Harry, take Louise home," said the old man quickly.
+
+"And you will go with them, sir."
+
+"No," said Vine quietly.  "If I lay in my room stricken down, John Van
+Heldre would not leave me, Knatchbull, and I am not going to leave him.
+Good-night, my children.  Go at once."
+
+"But Madelaine, father."
+
+"I shall tell her when she comes down that you were driven away, but I
+shall send for you to relieve her as soon as I may."
+
+Louise stifled a sob, and the old doctor took and patted her hand.
+
+"You shall be sent for, my dear, as soon as you can be of use.  You are
+helping me in going.  There, good-night."
+
+A minute later, hanging heavily on her brother's arm, Louise Vine was
+walking slowly homeward through the silent night.  Her heart was too
+full for words, and Harry uttered a low hoarse sigh from time to time,
+his lips never once parting to speak till they reached the house.
+
+To the surprise of both, on entering they were confronted by Aunt
+Marguerite.
+
+"What does all this mean?" she said angrily.  "Why did every one go out
+without telling me a word?"
+
+Louise gently explained to her what had befallen her father's friend.
+
+"Oh," said Aunt Marguerite, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
+"Well, it might have been worse.  There, I am very tired.  Take me up,
+child, to bed."
+
+"Good-night, Harry; you will go and lie down," whispered Louise.
+"Good-night, dear."
+
+She clung to him as if the trouble had drawn them closer, and then went
+into the hall to light a candle.
+
+"Good-night, Henri," said Aunt Marguerite, holding her cheek for the
+young man's mechanical kiss.  "This is very sad, of course, but it seems
+to me like emancipation for you.  If it is, I shall not look upon it as
+a calamity, but as a blessing for us all.  Good-night."
+
+The door closed upon her, and Harry Vine sat alone in the dining-room
+with his hands clasped before him, gazing straight away into his future,
+and trying to see the road.
+
+"If I had but thrown myself upon his mercy," he groaned; but he knew
+that it was impossible all through his regret.
+
+What to do now?  Where to go?  Money?  Yes; he had a little, thanks to
+his regular work as Van Heldre's clerk--his money that he had received,
+and he was about to use it to escape--where?
+
+"God help me!" groaned the unhappy man at last; "what shall I do?"
+
+He started up in horror, for the door-handle turned.  Had they found out
+so soon?  Was he to be arrested now?
+
+"Harry--Harry!"
+
+A quick husky whisper, but he could not speak.
+
+"Harry, why don't you answer?  What are you staring at?"
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"Look here, old fellow; I've been waiting for you to come up--all these
+hours.  What have you found out?"
+
+"That John Van Heldre was robbed to-night of five hundred pounds in
+notes, and you have that money."
+
+"I haven't, I tell you again, not a shilling of it.  Look here, what
+about the police?  Have they put it in their hands?"
+
+"The police are trying to trace the money and the man who struck Van
+Heldre down.  Where is that money?  It must be restored."
+
+"Then you must restore it, for I swear I haven't a single note.  Hang
+it, man, have I ever played you false?"
+
+Harry was silent.  His old companion's persistence staggered him.
+
+"I tell you once more, I went to the office to see if you had got the
+loan, and was knocked down.  Curse it all! is this true or is it not?"
+
+He placed his head close to the light, and Harry shuddered.
+
+"Don't believe me unless you like.  I wish I had never come near the
+place."
+
+"I wish so too," said Harry coldly.  "There, don't talk like that, man.
+It has turned out a failure, unless you have got the coin--have you?"
+
+"Have I?" said Harry with utter loathing in his voice.  "No!"
+
+"You can believe me or not, as you like, but I always was your friend,
+and always will be, come what may.  Now, look here; we are safe to get
+the credit of this.  If you didn't fell me, some one else did.  Van
+Heldre, I suppose; and now some one must have knocked him down.  Of
+course you'll say it wasn't you."
+
+"No," said Harry coldly.  "I shall not say it.  I was by the safe, and
+he caught hold of me.  In my horror I hit at him.  I wish he had struck
+me dead instead."
+
+"Don't talk like a fool.  Now look here; the game's up and the world's
+wide.  We can start at once, and get to St Dree's station in time to
+catch the up train; let's go and start afresh somewhere.  You and I are
+safe to get on.  Come."
+
+Harry made no reply.
+
+"I've packed up my bag, and I'm ready.  Get a few things together, and
+let's go at once."
+
+"Go--with you?"
+
+"Yes.  Look sharp.  Every minute now is worth an hour."
+
+Go with Pradelle! the man who had been his evil genius ever since they
+had first met.  A feeling of revulsion, such as he had never felt
+before, came over Harry Vine, and with a voice full of repressed rage he
+cried:--
+
+"I'd sooner give myself up to the police."
+
+"Don't be a fool.  I tell you to come at once.  It's now half-past two.
+Plenty of time."
+
+"Then in Heaven's name go!" said Harry; "and never let me see your face
+again."
+
+"You'll talk differently to-morrow.  Will you; once more?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I'm off.  What do you mean to do?"
+
+"Wait."
+
+"Wait?"
+
+"Yes.  I shall not try to escape.  If they suspect me, let them take me.
+I shall face it all."
+
+"You'll soon alter your tune.  Look here: I've been true to you; now you
+be true to me.  Don't set the police on to me.  No, you will not do
+that.  You'll come after me; and mind this, you will always hear of me
+at the old lodgings, Great Ormond Street."
+
+Harry stood gazing straight at him, believing, in spite of his doubts,
+that Pradelle had not taken the money.
+
+The idea was strengthened.
+
+"Look here; I've only three half-crowns.  I can't go with that.  How
+much have you?"
+
+"Thirty shillings."
+
+"Then come, and we'll share."
+
+"No."
+
+"Lend me half then.  I'll manage with that."
+
+For answer Harry thrust his hand into his pocket and took out all he
+had.
+
+"What, all?" said Pradelle, as he took the money.
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"Once more.  Will you come?"
+
+Silence!
+
+"Then I'm off."
+
+Harry Vine stood gazing at vacancy, and once more tried to see his own
+path in the future, but all was dark.
+
+One thing he did know, and that was that his path did not run side by
+side with Victor Pradelle's.  His sister's words still rang in his ears;
+her kisses seemed yet to be clinging to his lips.
+
+"No," he said at last, moodily; "I'll face what there is to come alone.
+No," he groaned, "I could not face it, I dare not."
+
+He started guiltily and scared, for there was the sound of a door
+closing softly.
+
+He listened, and there was a step, but it was not inside the house, it
+was on the shingle path; and as he darted to the old bay window, he
+could see a shadowy figure hurrying down the path.
+
+"Gone!" he said in a low voice, "gone!  Yes, I'll keep my word--if I
+can."
+
+He opened the casement window, and stood there leaning against the heavy
+stone mullion, listening to the low soft beating of the waves far below.
+The cool air fanned his fevered cheek, and once more the power to think
+seemed to be coming back.
+
+He had had no idea of the lapse of time, and a flash of broad sunlight
+came upon him like a shock, making him start away from the window; now
+lit up with the old family shield and crest a blaze of brilliant colour.
+
+"_Roy et Foy_," he read silently; and the words seemed to mock him.
+
+Henri Comte des Vignes, the plotter in a robbery of the man who had been
+his benefactor.  Perhaps his murderer.
+
+"Comte des Vignes!" he said, with a curious laugh.  "Boy! vain, weak,
+empty-headed boy!  What have I done--what have I done?"
+
+"Harry!"
+
+He started round with a cry to face his sister.
+
+"Not been to bed?"
+
+"No," he said wearily.  "I could not sleep."
+
+She laid her hands upon his shoulders and kissed him.
+
+"Neither could I," she said, "for thinking of it all.  Harry, if he
+should die!"
+
+He looked down into the eyes gazing so questioningly into his, but his
+lips framed no answer.
+
+He was listening to the echoing of his sister's words, which seemed to
+go and on thrilling through the mazes of his brain, an infinitesimally
+keen and piercing sound at last, but still so plain and clear--
+
+"_If he should die_!"
+
+Volume 2, Chapter IV.
+
+UNCLE LUKE GROWS HARDER.
+
+"I would not stop over these, my dears," said Vine, as they sat at
+breakfast, which was hardly tasted, "but if I neglect them they will
+die."
+
+He had a glass globe on the table, and from time to time he went on
+feeding with scraps of mussel the beautiful specimens of actiniae
+attached to a fragment of rock.
+
+"We'll all go directly and see if we can be of any use.  I'm glad
+Knatchbull called as he went by."
+
+"But what news!" said Louise sadly.  "It seems so terrible.  Only
+yesterday evening so well, and now--"
+
+She finished her remark with a sob.
+
+"It is very terrible," said her father; "but I hope we shall soon hear
+that the villains are caught."
+
+Harry sat holding the handle of his teacup firmly, and gazing straight
+before him.
+
+"You'll go up to the office, of course, my boy?" said Vine.
+
+"Eh?  Go up to the office?" cried Harry, starting.
+
+"Yes, as if nothing had happened.  Do all you can to assist Crampton."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"He was very quiet and reserved when I went in at seven; quite snappish,
+I might say.  But he was too much occupied and troubled, I suppose, to
+be very courteous to such an old idler as I am.  Ah!" he continued, as a
+figure passed the window, "here's Uncle Luke."
+
+A cold chill had run through Harry at the mention of Crampton--a chill
+of horror lest he should suspect anything; and now, at the announcement
+of his uncle's approach, he felt a flush run up to his temples, and as
+if the room had suddenly become hot.
+
+"Morning," said Uncle Luke, entering without ceremony, a rush basket in
+one hand, his strapped-together rod in the other.  "Breakfast?  Late for
+breakfast, isn't it?"
+
+"No, Luke, no; our usual time," said his brother mildly.
+
+"You will sit down and have some, uncle?"
+
+"_No_, Louie, no," he replied, nodding his head and looking a little
+less hard at her.  "I've had some bread and skim milk, and I'm just off
+to catch my dinner.  The idiot know?"
+
+"My dear Luke!" said his brother mildly, as Uncle Luke made a gesture
+upward towards Aunt Marguerite's room; "why will you strive to increase
+the breach between you and our sister?"
+
+"Well, she tells every one that I'm mad.  Why shouldn't I call her an
+idiot?  But nice goings on, these.  Wonder you're all alive."
+
+"Then you have heard?"
+
+"Heard?  Of course.  If I hadn't I could have read it in your faces.
+Look here, sir," he cried, turning sharply on his nephew, "where were
+you last night?"
+
+Harry clutched the table-cloth that hung into his lap.
+
+"I?  Last night?" he faltered.  "Yes; didn't I speak plainly?  Where
+were you last night?  Why weren't you down at Van Heldre's, behaving
+like a man, and fighting for your master along with your henchman?"
+
+"Uncle, dear, don't be so unreasonable," said Louise, leaning back and
+looking up in the old man's face--for he had thrown his basket and rod
+on a chair, and gone behind her to stand stroking her cheek--"Harry was
+at home with Mr Pradelle."
+
+"Pradelle, eh?" said the old man sharply.  "Not up?"
+
+"Mr Pradelle has gone," said Louise.
+
+"Gone, eh?" said Uncle Luke sharply.
+
+"Yes," said his brother.  "Mr Pradelle behaved very nicely.  He left
+this note for me."
+
+"Note, eh?  Bank-note--"
+
+Harry winced and set his teeth.
+
+"No, no, Luke.  Nonsense!"
+
+"Nonsense?  I mean to pay for his board and lodging: all the time he has
+been here."
+
+"Absurd, Luke!" said his brother, taking up a liberal meal for a
+sea-anemone on the end of a thin glass rod.  "He said that under the
+circumstances he felt that he should be an encumbrance to us, and
+therefore he had gone by the earliest train."
+
+"Like the sneak he is, eh, Harry?"
+
+The young man met his uncle's eyes for the moment, and then dropped his
+own.
+
+"You'll kill those things with kindness, George.  Any one would think
+you were fattening them for market.  So Master Pradelle has gone, eh?
+Don't cry, Louie; perhaps we can coax him back."
+
+He chuckled, and patted her cheek.
+
+"Uncle, dear, don't talk like that.  We are in such trouble."
+
+"About Van Heldre, that boy's master.  Yes, of course.  Very sad for
+Mrs Van and little Madelaine.  Leslie was down there as soon as one of
+the miners brought up the news, trying to comfort them."
+
+Harry's teeth gritted slightly, but he relapsed into his former
+semi-cataleptic state, as if forced to listen, and unable to move.
+
+"I like Leslie," said Vine sadly.
+
+"So do I.  At least, I don't dislike him so much as I do some folks.
+Now if he had been there, he'd have behaved better than you did, Master
+Harry."
+
+"Uncle, dear, don't be so hard on poor Harry."
+
+"Poor Harry!  Good job he is poor.  What's the good of being rich for
+thieves to break through and steal?"
+
+"Ah! what indeed!" said his brother sadly.
+
+"Look at Van Heldre, knocked on the head and going to die."
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+"Well, I dare say he will, and be at rest.  Knocked on the head, and
+robbed of five hundred pounds.  My money, every penny."
+
+"Yours, Luke?" said his brother, pointing at him with the glass rod.
+
+"Thanks, no, George; give it to the sea-anemone.  I don't like raw
+winkle."
+
+"But you said that money was yours?"
+
+"_Yes_; a deposit; all in new crisp Bank of England notes, Harry.
+Taking care of it for me till I got a fresh investment."
+
+"You surprise me, Luke."
+
+"Always did.  Surprised you more if Margaret had had five hundred pounds
+to invest, eh?"
+
+"Then the loss will fall upon you, uncle," said Louise sympathetically,
+as she took the old man's hand.
+
+"Yes, my dear.  But better have the loss fall upon me than Crampton's
+heavy ebony ruler, eh, Harry?"
+
+The young man looked once more in the searching malicious eyes, and
+nodded.
+
+"Bad job though, Louie.  I'd left poor Harry that money in my will."
+
+"Oh, uncle!" cried Louise, holding his hand to her cheek.
+
+"Yes; but not a penny for you, pussy.  There, it don't matter.  I shan't
+miss the money.  If I run short, George, you'll give me a crust, same as
+you do Margaret?"
+
+"My dear Luke, I've told you a hundred times, I should be glad if you
+would give up that--that--"
+
+"Dog kennel?" sneered the old cynic.  "That hut on the cliff, and come
+and share my home."
+
+"Yes, two hundred times, I'll swear," said Uncle Luke.  "You always were
+weak, George.  One idiot's enough for you to keep, and very little does
+for me.  There's my larder," he continued, pointing toward the sea; "and
+as to Harry here, he won't miss the money.  He's going to be the Count
+des Vignes, and take Aunt Marguerite over to Auvergne, to live in his
+grand chateau.  Five hundred pound's nothing to him."
+
+The perspiration stood on Harry's brow, cold and damp, and he sat
+enduring all this torture.  One moment he felt that his uncle suspected
+him, the next that it was impossible.  At times a fierce sensation of
+rage bubbled up in his breast, and he felt as if he would have liked to
+strangle the keen-eyed old man; but directly after he felt that this was
+his punishment called down by his weakness and folly, and that he must
+bear it.
+
+"Going, Harry?" said his father, as the young man rose.
+
+"Yes; it is time I went on to the office."
+
+"Good boy.  Punctuality's the soul of business," said Uncle Luke.  "Pity
+we have no corporation here.  You might rise to be mayor.  Here, I don't
+think I shall go fishing to-day.  I'll stop, and go with you two, to see
+old Van.  Louie, dear, go and tell your aunt I'm here.  She might like
+to come down and have a snarl."
+
+"Uncle, dear," said Louise, rising and kissing him, "you can't deceive
+me."
+
+She went out after Harry.
+
+"Not a pair, George," said Uncle Luke, grimly.  "Louie's worth five
+hundred of the boy."
+
+"He'd drive me mad, Lou, he'd drive me mad," cried Harry, tearing his
+hand from his sister's grasp, and hurrying away; but only to run back
+repentant and kiss her fondly before going.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter V.
+
+THE TRIFLE THAT TELLS TALES.
+
+As Harry Vine left his father's house, and hurried down the slope, he
+gazed wildly out to sea.  There were no thoughts of old Huguenot
+estates, or ancient titles, but France lay yonder over that glistening
+sea, and as he watched a cinnamon-sailed lugger gliding rapidly south
+and east, he longed to be aboard.
+
+Why should he not do as Pradelle had done--escape from the dangers which
+surrounded and hemmed him in?  It was the easiest way out of his
+difficulties.
+
+There were several reasons.
+
+To go would stamp him with the crime, and so invite pursuit.  To do this
+was to disgrace father and sister, and perhaps be taken and dragged
+back.
+
+When he reached the harbour, instead of turning down to the left, by the
+estuary, he made his way at once on to the shore, and after a little
+hesitation, picked out the spot where on the previous night he had
+thrown himself down, half mad with the course he had been called upon to
+take.
+
+The engraved gold locket, with which his nervous fingers had often
+played, would be lying somewhere among the stones; perhaps caught and
+wedged in a crevice.  It was so easy when lying prone to catch such an
+ornament and snap it off without knowing.  He looked carefully over the
+heap of stones, and then around in every direction; but the locket was
+not there.
+
+"It must be somewhere about," he said angrily, as if he willed that it
+should; but there was no sign of the glittering piece of well-polished
+gold, and a suspicion that had for a long time been growing, increased
+rapidly in force, till he could bear it no longer, and once more
+something seemed to urge him to fly.
+
+He had clung so to that hope, shutting his eyes to the truth, and going
+down to the beach to search for the locket.  Even when he had not found
+it, he said that perhaps some child had picked it up; but there was the
+truth now refusing to be smothered longer, and he walked on hastily to
+reach Van Heldre's office, so as to search for the locket there.  For it
+was the truth he had felt that sudden snatch, that tug when the old
+merchant dashed at him, and then fell.  The locket was torn off then.
+He might not be too late.  In the hurry and confusion it might not have
+been seen.
+
+The ordinary door of entrance to the offices was closed, and at the
+house the blinds were half drawn down.  He felt that he could not go to
+the front door.  So after a little hesitation, he went round into the
+back lane, and with a strange sensation of dread, passed through the
+gateway and down the steps into the neatly-kept garden yard.
+
+Everything was very still; and Harry Vine, with an attempt to look as if
+entirely bent upon his ordinary task, went up to the door, entered the
+glass corridor, as he had entered it the night before, and by a
+tremendous effort of will walked quickly into the outer office.
+
+The inner door was open, and after a hasty glance round, he was in the
+act of crossing to it when he found himself face to face with the old
+clerk.  For some moments neither spoke--the old man gazing straight at
+Harry with a peculiar, stony glare, and the latter, so thrown off his
+balance that no words would come.
+
+"Good morning," he said at last.
+
+The old man continued to stare as if looking him through and through.
+
+"What do you want?" he said at last.
+
+"Want?  It is past nine o'clock, and--"
+
+"Go back.  The office is closed."
+
+"Go back?" said Harry, troubled by the old man's manner more than by the
+announcement; for it seemed natural that the office should be closed.
+
+"Yes, young man; you can go back."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I said, go back, sir--go back!  The office is closed," said the old man
+fiercely; and there was something menacing in the manner of his
+approach, as he backed his junior to the closed door, and unlocked it
+and pointed to the street.
+
+"Mr Crampton--" began Harry.
+
+The old man looked at him as if he could have struck him down, waved him
+aside, and closed and locked the door.
+
+Harry stood for a few moments thinking.  What could he do to gain an
+entrance there, and have a quiet search of the place?  The only plan
+open seemed to be to wait until Crampton had gone away.
+
+He had just come to this conclusion, after walking a short distance
+along the street and returning, when a fresh shock awaited him.  Van
+Heldre's front door was open, and Duncan Leslie came out, walking
+quickly towards him, but not noticing whom he approached till they were
+face to face.
+
+"Ah, Mr Vine," he said, holding out his hand; "I had some thought of
+coming up to you."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"What for?  Surely at a time like this there ought not to be a gap
+between friends.  I am afraid you misunderstood me the other night.  I
+am very sorry.  There is my hand."
+
+But trembling with that other anxiety, Harry Vine had still the old
+sting of jealousy festering in his breast.  Leslie had just come from
+Van Heldre's; perhaps he had been talking with Madelaine even there;
+and, ignoring the proffer, Harry bowed coldly and was passing on, but
+Leslie laid his hand upon his arm.
+
+"If I have been more in the wrong than I think, pray tell me," said
+Leslie.  "Come, Vine, you and I ought not to be ill friends."
+
+For a moment the desire was upon him to grasp the extended hand.  It was
+a time when he was ready to cling to any one for help and support, and
+the look in his eyes changed.
+
+"Ah, that's better!" said Leslie frankly.  "I want to talk to you."
+
+Why not go with him?  Why not tell Leslie all, and ask his help and
+advice?  He needed both sorely.  It was but a moment's fancy, which he
+cast aside as mad.  What would Leslie say to such a one as he?  And how
+could he take the hand of a man who was taking the place which should be
+his?
+
+Leslie stood still in the narrow seaport street for a few moments,
+looking after Harry, who had turned off suddenly and walked away.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter VI.
+
+ON THE RACK.
+
+How was he to pass that day?  At home in a state of agony, starting at
+every word, trembling at every knock which came to the door?  He felt
+that he could not do that, and that he must be engaged in some way to
+crush down the thoughts which were fermenting in his brain.
+
+Certain now that he had lost the locket in the slight struggle in the
+office, he literally determined to leave no stone unturned, and walked
+once more down to the beach, where he went on searching, till glancing
+up he saw Poll Perrow, the old fish-woman, resting her arm on the rail
+at the edge of the cliff, looking down at him, and apparently watching
+him.
+
+That was sufficient to turn him from his quest, and he went off hastily,
+and without intent, to find himself upon the long, narrow, pier-like
+point which acted as a breakwater to the harbour.
+
+He went on and on, till he reached the end, where with the sea on three
+sides, and the waves washing at his feet, he sat down on one of the
+masses of rock as his uncle often took up his position to fish, and
+watched the swirling current that ran so swiftly by the end of the
+point.
+
+"How easy it would be," he thought, "to step down off the end of the
+rock into the sea, and be carried right away."
+
+"And disgrace them by acting like a coward," he said half aloud; and
+leaping up he walked swiftly back to the cliff, and then went up the
+path that led to home.
+
+At the door he met Louise and his father.
+
+"Back again, Harry?" said the latter, wonderingly.
+
+"Yes; the place is shut up.  No business to-day," he said hastily.
+
+"Did you see Madelaine?" asked Louise, anxiously.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"Or poor Mrs Van Heldre?" said his father.
+
+"No; I thought it would worry them."
+
+"But you asked how Van Heldre was?"
+
+"_No_," said Harry, confusedly.  "I--it seemed a pity to disturb them."
+
+"Come back and make amends," said Vine rather sternly.  "They must not
+think we desert them in their trouble."
+
+"But both you and Louise have been on this morning."
+
+"Yes, and would have stayed if it would have helped them," said Vine.
+"Come."
+
+Harry hung back for a moment, and then, in the hope that he might be
+able to slip away from them, and search the office in Crampton's
+absence, he went on by their side.
+
+To the surprise of all, as they reached the house the door was opened by
+Crampton, who stood scowling in the doorway, and barred the way.
+
+"How is he now, Crampton?" said Vine, as Harry's heart began to
+palpitate with the fear that all this was intended for him.
+
+"Dying," said the old man, shortly.
+
+"No, no, not so bad as that," cried Louise and her father in a breath.
+"Doctor Knatchbull said--"
+
+"What doctors always say, Miss Louise, that while there's life, there's
+hope.  'Tisn't true.  There's often life and no hope, and it's so here."
+
+"Crampton, you are taking too black a view of the matter," said Vine,
+quickly.  "It's very good of you to be so much moved as his old and
+faithful servant, but let's all, as a duty, look on the best side of
+things."
+
+"There is no best side," said Crampton bitterly.  "The whole world's
+corrupt.  Well: what do you people want to say?"
+
+"To say!  We have come to be of help if we can.  Come, Louise, my dear."
+
+He took a step forward, but the old man stood fast.
+
+"You know all there is to know," said the old clerk sourly, as he looked
+half angrily at Vine, and then, totally ignoring Harry, he turned his
+eyes on Louise, when the hard look softened a little.  "Send in by and
+by if you want to hear, or I'll send to you--if he dies."
+
+"Dies!" cried Vine, with a start of horror.  "No, no; he is not so bad
+as that."
+
+"As bad as a man can be to live."
+
+"You forget yourself, Crampton," said Vine, with dignity.  "You forget
+yourself.  But there, I can look over it all now.  I know what you must
+feel.  Go and tell Mrs Van Heldre or Miss Madelaine that we are here."
+
+The old man hesitated for a few moments, and then drew back to allow
+Louise and her father to pass; but as Harry stepped forward hastily to
+follow, the old man interposed, and fiercely raised his hand.
+
+"No!" he said.  "I'm master now.  Go back!  Go back!"
+
+Harry shrank from him as Crampton stood pointing down the street, and
+then strove hard to master the abject sensation of dread which made him
+feel that all the old man said was true.  He was master now; and with an
+angry gesture he turned and walked swiftly away, to turn as he reached
+the end of the street and see Crampton watching him from the doorstep,
+and with his hand still raised.
+
+"Am I such an abject coward that I am frightened of that old man?" he
+muttered, as he recalled how only a few hours back he used to treat him
+with a flippant condescending contempt.  "Yes, he's master now, and
+means to show it.  Why did I not go in boldly?"
+
+He knew why, and writhed in his impotence and dread.  The task of
+keeping a bold face on the matter was harder than he thought.  He
+wandered about the town in an objectless way hour after hour, and then
+went home.  His father and sister had not returned, but Aunt Marguerite
+was down, ready to rise in her artificial manner and extend her hand.
+
+"Ah, Henri, my child," she said; "how pale and careworn you look!  Where
+are they all?"
+
+"Van Heldre's," said Harry shortly.
+
+"Ah, poor man!  Very bad, I hear.  Yes, it's very sad, but I do not see
+why his accident should so reverse our regular lives at home.  Henri,
+dear, you must break with Mr Van Heldre after this."
+
+"I have broken with him, aunt," cried the young man fiercely.
+
+"Ah! that's right; that is spoken as one of our race should speak.  Good
+boy.  And, Henri, my darling, of course there will be no more silly
+flirtings with your sister's friend.  Remember what I have told you of
+the fair daughters of France, and let the fraulein marry that man
+Leslie."
+
+"Aunt, you'll drive me mad," exclaimed Harry, grinding his teeth; and
+without another word he dashed out of the house.  His first thought was
+to go up the cliff-path on to the wild granite plain and moors which
+overlooked the town, but he could not stir in that direction.  There was
+the haunting dread of that locket being found, and he went on down again
+into the town, and looked about the shore for hours.
+
+The afternoon was growing old, and his mind was becoming better able to
+bear the brunt of all that was to come.
+
+He raised his eyes, and was on the point of going back home to see if
+his father and sister had returned, when he caught sight of old Crampton
+coming out of the post-office, after which the old man walked on in the
+direction of his home.
+
+The opportunity at last!  The office would be unguarded; and, walking
+swiftly in the direction of Van Heldre's, he turned round into the back
+lane, and, strung up to act firmly and determinedly, he pressed the back
+gate.
+
+It was fast.
+
+Desperate and determined now, he went round to the principal office
+door, but it was locked.  Harry drew a long breath, and walked straight
+to the front door and rang.
+
+The maid who opened drew back to let him pass.
+
+"My father--sister here?"
+
+"In the drawing-room; in with my mistress."
+
+"No, no," said Harry hastily, as the maid moved towards the door; "never
+mind me; I'll go in soon."
+
+The woman left him in the hall, and he waited till he heard the kitchen
+door close, when he walked swiftly and softly to the glass window, and
+hurried into the office.
+
+The inner office door was open, and he darted in, to hastily look all
+round, under table, chairs, beneath the book-shelves, among the
+newspapers that lay in places in a heap; but there was no sign of the
+missing trinket, and an icy feeling of dread began to grow upon him.
+
+The waste-paper basket!
+
+It was half full, and the locket might easily have dropped in there, but
+a hasty examination was without avail.
+
+The fireplace!
+
+He looked there, in the ready-laid fire, beneath the grate, in the
+fender; he even raised it, but without avail.
+
+"It must be here somewhere," he muttered fiercely; and he looked round
+again, and in amongst the papers on the table.
+
+Still without avail.
+
+"It is in the waste-paper basket," he said, with a feeling of conviction
+upon him, as, trembling in every limb, he went to the other side of the
+table where it stood.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+A faint sound.  Was it Crampton returning?
+
+He stood listening, his brow glistening with the cold perspiration; and
+as he remained breathless and intent, he seemed to see again the office
+as it was on the previous night, almost totally dark, the safe opened,
+and the shadowy figure of Van Heldre dashing at him.
+
+Was it fancy, or was the place really dark?  A curious mist was before
+his eyes, but all was silent; and he went down on his knees, turned the
+waste-paper basket upside down--the torn letters, envelopes, and
+circulars forming a heap on the well-worn Turkey carpet; but no piece of
+metal fell out with a low pat.
+
+"It is here; it is here; it shall be here," he panted; and then he
+sprang to his feet shivering with shame and dread, face to face with
+Madelaine Van Heldre, who, pale with emotion, heavy-eyed with weeping,
+but erect and stern, flashed upon him a look full of anger and contempt.
+
+"Ah, Madelaine!" he stammered, "have you seen a half-written letter--
+must be here somewhere--left on my desk?"
+
+"Henri des Vignes--the soul of honour!" she said bitterly.  "Have you
+fallen so low as this?"
+
+"I--I don't understand you."
+
+"You coward!  And you can lie to me--the woman you professed to love!"
+
+"Madelaine, for pity's sake."
+
+"Let me tell you what you are looking for."
+
+"I--looking for?"
+
+"Yes: you are looking for something for fear it should fall into the
+hands of the police."
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Oh! is it possible that a man can be so base?  Let me tell you, then.
+You are looking for the locket snapped from your chain when my poor
+father was stricken down."
+
+"Madelaine! what are you saying?"
+
+"Stricken down by the wretch whom, in my pity and love, I had asked him
+to receive into his house, that he might redeem his character, and prove
+to the world that he had only been weak."
+
+"You--you did this!" he gasped.
+
+"I did this; and found that in his love for his old friend my father had
+already determined to be a second father to his son."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And for what?  To bring him where he might play the part of serpent on
+the hearth, and sting him to the quick."
+
+"Madelaine, for God's sake, mercy!"
+
+She could have none then.
+
+"To give shelter, ah! and, some day, the hand of the weak, trusting girl
+who loved him, and said, `Give him time, father, and he will change'--to
+give him some day her hand and love, and welcome him as a son."
+
+"Madelaine!" he cried, throwing himself on his knees to clasp the hem of
+her dress and literally grovel at her feet.
+
+"To the man who could stoop to be a vile contemptible thief!"
+
+"No, no, no!" cried Harry, springing to his feet; "not that--not that."
+
+"And rob him."
+
+"No; anything but that.  I swear I did not do that."
+
+"And when detected in the act did not scruple to play the would-be
+murderer."
+
+"Madelaine, have pity!"
+
+"And cruelly struck him down."
+
+"Madelaine.  All you say is not true."
+
+"Not true?  Go up to where he lies hovering between life and death, and
+see your work.  Coward!  Villain!  Oh, that I should ever have been so
+weak as to think I loved such a wretch as you!"  He drew himself up.
+
+"It is not true," he said.  "I did not commit that theft; and it was in
+my agony and shame at being found before the safe that I struck him
+down."
+
+"You confess you were there--that you were a partner in the crime?"
+
+"Yes, I was there," said Harry, slowly; "and I sinned.  Well, I am
+ready.  Take your revenge.  I am in your hands.  You have the evidence
+of my crime.  Denounce me, and let me out of your sight for ever."
+
+"And my father's old friend--my second father?  And Louise, my more than
+sister?  What of them?"
+
+He quailed before her as she stood, her eyes flashing, a hectic flush on
+either cheek; and he felt that he had never known Madelaine Van Heldre
+till then.
+
+"Oh!" he groaned as he covered his face with his hands, "I am guilty.
+Let me suffer," he said slowly.  "They will soon forget, for I shall be
+as one who is dead."
+
+"_No_," she said; "I cannot speak.  If he who is hovering between life
+and death could advise, he would say, `Be silent; let his conscience be
+his judge.'  I say the same.  Go.  The locket is not there."
+
+"The police?" he cried in a questioning tone.
+
+"No," she said; "the secret was mine.  I found it tightly clasped in my
+poor father's hand."
+
+"Then the secret is safe."
+
+"Safe?" she said scornfully.  "Safe?  Yes, it is my secret.  You asked
+for mercy.  I give it you, for the sake of all who are dear to me; and
+because, if he lives, my poor father would not prosecute the son of his
+old friend.  There is your locket.  Take it, and I pray Heaven we may
+never meet again.  Crampton!"
+
+"Yes, Miss Maddy, Crampton--old Crampton, who held you in his arms when
+you were one hour old."
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+"Watching my master's interests--watching over you."
+
+"Then you have heard?"
+
+"Every word, my child."
+
+"You cursed spy!" cried Harry fiercely, as he seized the old man by the
+throat.
+
+"You've done enough, Master Harry Vine, enough to transport you, sir;
+and if he dies to send you to your death."
+
+"Crampton!" shrieked Madelaine, as Harry drew back trembling.
+
+"Be merciful, like you, my dear?  No, I cannot."
+
+"Then you'll go and tell--"
+
+"What I've heard now, my dear?  No; there is no need."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"To watch over you, whether my poor master lives or dies.  I know you!
+You'd forgive him if he asked."
+
+"Never!  But, Crampton, it is our secret.  He must go--to repent.  Dear
+Crampton," she cried, throwing her arms about his neck, "you must be
+merciful too!"
+
+"Too late, my dear," said the old man sternly; "too late."
+
+He placed his arm round her and drew her to his breast, as if to defend
+her from Harry.
+
+"When I went home that night," he continued in a slow, solemn voice, "I
+felt that something was not right, and I came on here--in time to see--"
+
+"Oh!" cried Madelaine.  "In time to see that shivering, guilty wretch
+flee from where he had struck my poor master down; and if I had been a
+young man and strong I could have killed him for his crime."
+
+"You saw him?"
+
+"Yes, my dear.  No need for the locket to bear witness.  I had my duty
+to do, and it is done."
+
+"Done?"
+
+"Yes; to punish him for his crime."
+
+"Crampton, what have you said?  Harry! before it is too late!"
+
+"It is too late, my child.  See here."  He held out a scrap of reddish
+paper.  "From the London police.  I could not trust those bunglers
+here."
+
+Madelaine snatched the paper from his hand and read it.
+
+"Oh!" she moaned, and the paper dropped from her hand.
+
+Harry snatched it from the floor, read it, let it fall, and reeled
+against the table, whose edge he grasped.
+
+Madelaine struggled and freed herself from the old man's detaining arm.
+
+"Harry!" she panted--"it would be my father's wish--escape!  There may
+yet be time."
+
+He leaned back against the table, gazing at her wildly, as if he did not
+grasp her words.  Then he started as if stung by a sudden lash as old
+Crampton said:
+
+"I have done my duty.  It is too late."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter VII.
+
+LESLIE MAKES A DECLARATION.
+
+"Where is Harry?" said George Vine that same evening, as he sat in his
+study, surrounded by his living specimens of natural history, and with
+the paper before him that he had vainly tried to fill.
+
+"He must be waiting about down in the town--for news," said Louise,
+looking up from her work.
+
+"He ought to have been here to dinner, my dear," said the naturalist
+querulously; "it would have been some comfort.  Tut--tut--tut!  I cannot
+collect my thoughts; everything seems to slip from me."
+
+"Then why not leave it, dear, for the present?  This terrible trouble
+has unhinged you."
+
+She had risen and gone to the back of his chair, to pass her arm
+lovingly about his neck, and he leaned back, dropping his pen to take
+her hand and play with it, pressing it to his lips from time to time.
+
+"I suppose I had better," he said sadly; "but I am dreadfully
+behindhand--four letters from the Society unanswered.  I wish they did
+not expect so much from me, my darling."
+
+"I do not," said Louise, smiling.  "Why should you wish to be less
+learned than you are?"
+
+"Had we not better go again to Van Heldre's now?"
+
+"I think I would leave it till quite the last thing."
+
+"Ye-es," said Vine, hesitating, "perhaps so; but I don't like it, my
+child.  Van Heldre has always been to me like a brother, and it seems so
+strange and hard to be almost driven from his side.  Doctor's like a
+tyrant, and as for Crampton--there, wait till the poor fellow is well
+again, and if we together do not give Master Crampton a severe setting
+down my name is not what it is."
+
+"You must forgive it, dear; he is so anxious about his master."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," said Vine pettishly; "but the man is so
+insolently overbearing.  Really, my dear, if he has been in the habit of
+behaving to Harry as he has conducted himself towards us, I do not
+wonder at the poor boy's intense dislike to the office routine."
+
+"It is not fair to judge him now," said Louise.
+
+"No, my dear, I suppose not; but it is very painful, when I feel as if
+you and I have quite a right in that poor fellow's bedroom, to be
+literally expelled, Madelaine siding with the doctor, and poor Mrs Van
+Heldre really utterly broken down."
+
+"We should only make matters more painful by interfering.  Let us go and
+ask how Mr Van Heldre is about ten, and I will get Madelaine to let me
+sit up with her and help."
+
+"No," said Vine, rising and pacing the room, "I shall not sit down
+quietly.  I feel that it is my duty to insist upon being there.  I shall
+go up at once."
+
+"Wait till I put on my things, dear."
+
+"No; I shall only go for an hour now, and I will come back and fetch you
+later on."
+
+"But, papa dear!"
+
+"There, there, there! don't be alarmed, I shall not get out of temper
+with Crampton now.  That will keep."
+
+"Then you will go--now?"
+
+"Yes," he said decidedly; "I cannot sit here."
+
+"But you hardly tasted your dinner.  Let me get you some tea first."
+
+"My dear child, I can touch nothing; and pray don't oppose me.  I am in
+such a state of nervous irritation that if you do I am sure I shall say
+something unkind, and then I shall be more upset than I am now."
+
+"I am not afraid," said Louise, hanging on his shoulder for a few
+moments, and then kissing his wrinkled, careworn brow.
+
+"Thank you, my darling, thank you.  You will not mind being left?  Harry
+ought to be here."
+
+"Oh, no, dear; but you will come back soon and tell me all.  Harry will
+be here before then."
+
+"Of course, my dear, of course."
+
+"And you will give my dear love to Madelaine," Louise cried, as her
+father moved away from the door.
+
+He nodded, and with bended head went off down the path, while, after
+watching till he had disappeared, Louise stood gazing out to sea as the
+evening began to close in, and a soft, melancholy breeze came whispering
+among the trees.
+
+She could not tell why it was, but everything seemed to wear a different
+aspect, and a profound sense of dejection came upon her, which brought
+the tears to her eyes.
+
+Where could Harry be?  It was hours since she had seen him, and as she
+felt how much she required help and counsel at that time; her thoughts
+strayed to Duncan Leslie, and she looked across an intervening
+depression to the steep cliff-path, which led up past Uncle Luke's den
+to the Mine House, where a faint light twinkled, and away beyond, like a
+giant finger pointing upward, the great chimney shaft towered.
+
+She stood gazing at that faint light for some minutes, with her eyes
+growing dim, and the troubled feelings which had often assailed her in
+secret increasing till, with cheeks burning and an angry ejaculation,
+she turned into the house, where she fetched her work from the study,
+and was soon after seated by the window trying to sew.  At the end of a
+few minutes she rose and rang for the lamp, which was brought in by the
+cook.
+
+"Where's Liza?" said Louise.
+
+"Gone down into the town, ma'am," said the cook, looking at her
+uneasily.
+
+"What for?  She did not ask leave."
+
+"She said she would not be long, ma'am," said the woman evasively.
+
+"Tell her to bring in the tea the moment my father returns.  Let
+everything be ready."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+The woman hurried out, and Louise sat gazing at the door, thinking that
+the woman's manner was strange.
+
+"I am upset," she said with a sigh, "and that makes things seem
+different."
+
+She had been dreaming over her work for a few minutes when she started,
+for she heard voices talking loudly.  She sat up in her chair with her
+senses on the strain, trembling lest there should be bad news from the
+Van Heldres'.  She was not kept long in suspense, for there was a quick
+step in the hall, a sharp rap at the door, and Liza entered, scarlet
+with excitement and exertion, her shawl over one arm, her hat hanging by
+its strings from the other.
+
+"Liza!"
+
+"Yes, miss, it's me.  Can I speak to you a minute?"
+
+"Have you brought news from Mr Van Heldre's?"
+
+"Which I have, miss, and I haven't."
+
+"How is he?" cried Louise, paying no heed to Liza's paradoxical
+declaration.
+
+"No better, and no worse, miss; but it wasn't about that.  I leaves you
+this day month, miss; and as much sooner as you can suit yourself."
+
+"Very well, Liza.  That will do."
+
+"No, miss!" cried the girl excitedly, "it won't do.  'Cusing people o'
+being thiefs when it was nothing but a bit of a bundle o' old rags and
+things I saved, as might ha' been burnt, and they bought 'em of me, and
+I bought the ribbons o' them."
+
+"I do not wish to hear any more about that transaction, Liza; but I am
+glad to hear you can explain it away.  You should have been frank at
+first."
+
+"So ought other people, miss, if you'll excuse me; and not go taking
+away a poor servant's character by alluding to money left on no
+chimley-pieces as I never took."
+
+"Liza!"
+
+"Yes, miss; I know, and thinking o' sending for the police."
+
+"I had too much feeling for you, Liza, and for your future character.  I
+did not even send you away."
+
+"I should think not indeed, miss.  Mother and me's as honest as the day;
+and if you want police, send for 'em for them as has been picking and
+stealing."
+
+"My good girl, what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, you don't know o' course, miss; but you very soon will.  And him
+with his fine airs, and his boots never shiny enough.  He'll find out
+the difference now; and as to me staying in a home like this where one
+of us is a thief, I've got my character to look after, and--"
+
+There was a sharp knock and ring, and from force of habit, Liza turned.
+
+"In a month, miss, if you please; and now you're going to hear what come
+an hour ago, and is all over the town by now."
+
+Louise caught at the table to steady herself, and her lips parted to
+question the girl, but she had hurried out of the room.  The door was
+opened, a deep male voice was heard, and directly after Duncan Leslie
+hurried in.
+
+"It is no time for ceremony," he gasped, breathlessly.  "Where is your
+father?"
+
+"At--Mr Van Heldre's," panted Louise, as she turned to him with
+extended hands.  "Mr Leslie, pray--pray tell me--what is wrong?"
+
+"Tell you?" he cried, catching her almost in his arms, and holding her
+firmly; and his voice sounded deep, hoarse, and full of commiseration.
+"How am I to dare to tell you, Louise?"
+
+"Mr Leslie!"
+
+She half struggled from him, but he retained her hands.
+
+"Tell me," he cried; "what shall I say?  Am I to speak out?"
+
+"Yes, quick!  You torture me."
+
+"Torture you, whom I would die to save from pain!"
+
+She trembled and flushed, and turned pale by turns.
+
+"I must tell you," he said; "there is no time to spare.  I have--try and
+bear it, my child, like the true, brave heart you are.  Your brother--"
+
+"Yes; quick! what do you mean?"  Leslie stood looking at her for a few
+moments, his mind dragged two ways, and shrinking from giving his news
+as he gazed into her dilated eyes.
+
+"Why do you not speak?" she said passionately.  "Do you not see the pain
+you give me?"
+
+"I must speak," he groaned.  "Where is your brother?  There is a
+horrible rumour in the town.  Mr Crampton--"
+
+"Crampton!"
+
+"Accuses your brother of having robbed and struck down Mr Van Heldre."
+
+"It is a lie!" she cried fiercely, as she snatched away her hands,
+gazing at him with flashing eyes and burning cheeks.  "My brother a
+thief--almost a murderer!  Oh!"
+
+"It cannot be true," said Leslie; "but--"
+
+"Weak and reckless and foolish; but--oh, why have you come up to say
+these things?"
+
+"Because I love you!" he cried passionately; and he caught her hands in
+his, and held them tightly.  "Because I knew that the horrible charge
+must soon reach your ears, and that it would be better that it should
+come from me--when you were in trouble--when you wanted help."
+
+"It is not true--it is not true!" cried Louise, excitedly.
+
+"Where is he?  Let me see him.  I may be able to advise and help.
+Louise, dear Louise, let this terrible time of trial be that which
+brings us together.  Let me prove to you how I love you by being your
+counsellor, your aid in this time of need."
+
+She heard his words, uttered with an earnestness which told their truth;
+but their effect was merely to arouse her indignation.  How dared he
+take advantage of her agony and weakness at a time like this, and insult
+her with his professions!  It was an outrage.
+
+"Don't shrink from me," he whispered.  "I will say no more now.  Forgive
+my clumsy blundering out of the words I have for months been longing to
+speak.  Only let me feel that you understand me--that I may love; and
+then you will turn to me for help in this time of trouble."
+
+For answer she pointed to the door.
+
+"It is false," she cried; "my brother a common thief!"
+
+"It must be false," he echoed, against his own belief; "but the charge
+has been made, and he must be warned in time."
+
+"Warned in time?" she cried.  "And you, who profess to be our friend,
+stood by and heard this charge made, and did not strike down the villain
+who made it."
+
+"Miss Vine--Louise, you are hasty.  The shock I know is terrible, but we
+must be prepared to meet it.  He must not be taken unawares."
+
+"My brother can meet such a charge as a gentleman should.  It is not the
+first time that so foul an attack has been made against an innocent
+man."
+
+"You are too hard upon me," he pleaded.  "How could I, loving you as I
+do--"
+
+"Loving!" she cried, scornfully.
+
+"What have I done?" he groaned.  "I ran up here directly to try and be
+of service.  In my excitement, I spoke words that I should have kept
+back for a time, but they would have vent, and--No, I am not ashamed of
+what I have said," he cried, drawing himself up.  "Louise Vine, I love
+you, and I must help you and your brother in this terrible strait."
+
+"Then go back to the town, and tell all who have dared to say my brother
+committed this crime that what they say is false, and that his father,
+his sister will prove his innocence.  Go!"
+
+"Yes, go!" said a shrill, harsh voice.  "Louise, go to your room and let
+me speak to this man."
+
+"Aunt, you have heard?"
+
+"Yes, from the servants.  And I heard his last insulting words.  Go to
+your room, child."
+
+She threw open the door, and, accustomed to obey from her childhood,
+Louise moved slowly towards the hall; but as she turned slightly to dart
+a last indignant look at the man who had set her heart beating wildly as
+he at the same time roused her indignation, she saw such a look of agony
+that her courage failed, a strange sense of pity stole through her, and
+she stepped back and took her aunt's arm.
+
+"Hush, aunt dear," she said, "there is no need to say more.  Mr Leslie
+has made a great mistake in bringing up that cruel report, and he will
+go now and contradict it for my brother's sake."
+
+"And apologise for his insult," cried Aunt Marguerite fiercely.  "Child,
+I bade you go to your room."
+
+"Yes, aunt, I am going."
+
+"I must speak to this man alone."
+
+"Aunt, dear--"
+
+"Pray go, Miss Vine," said Leslie, approaching and taking her hand.
+
+She yielded, and he led her to the door.
+
+"Nothing your aunt can say will change my feelings towards you.  When
+you are calm you will forgive me.  Believe me, I will do everything to
+clear your brother from this charge."
+
+She looked at him wildly, and still hesitated to obey her aunt's words.
+Finally, she gave way, Leslie held the door open till she was on the
+stairs, and then closed it, his manner completely changing as he turned
+and faced Aunt Marguerite, who stood with her head thrown back, and an
+indignant look of anger in her keen eyes.
+
+"So, sir," she exclaimed, "you in your common ignorance of everything
+connected with the social life of such a family as ours, dare to come up
+as a tale-bearer--as one of our servants did a few minutes back--and
+tell this pitiful story about my nephew."
+
+"I grieved greatly, Miss Vine," said Leslie in quiet businesslike tones.
+
+"You grieved!" she cried.  "A theft!  Do you know that a Des Vignes
+would prefer death to dishonour?"
+
+"No, madam; but I am very glad to hear it, for that being the case Henry
+Vine must be innocent."
+
+"Innocent!" she cried scornfully.  "My nephew Henri!  As if it could be
+for a moment in doubt!"
+
+"I shall strive hard to help Mr Vine, your brother, to clear him from
+this disgrace."
+
+"Disgrace, sir?  It is no disgrace.  If the _canaille_ cast mud at one
+of noble lineage, does it disgrace him?  No.  The disgrace is where some
+plebeian--some trading person--is mad enough to advance his pretensions,
+and dares to address a lady as I heard you address my niece.  Let me
+see, sir, did I not once give you to understand that Miss Louise des
+Vignes would in all probability be soon married to a gentleman of
+Auvergne--a gentleman whose lineage is as noble as her own?"
+
+"I did understand something of the kind, madam, but until I see Miss
+Louise Vine another's wife I shall boldly advance my pretensions, hoping
+to the last."
+
+"Even supposing that her brother has committed some _faux pas_?"
+
+"That would be the greater inducement to me to stand by her in her time
+of need."
+
+"Most gratifying, I am sure, Mr Leslie, and highly creditable to one of
+your nationality," said Aunt Marguerite sneeringly, as she raised her
+glass to her eye, and gazed at him in an amused way.  "Now may I ask you
+to leave me?  My brother and my nephew are from home, and I cannot
+entertain you as I am sure you would wish.  Good evening, Mr Leslie--
+good evening."
+
+She bowed him out with a sneering smile upon her thin lips, and Leslie
+hurried back towards the town.
+
+"What shall I do?" he muttered.  "Oh, that sneering old woman, how she
+does raise one's gall!  Poor Louise! she did look more gentle toward the
+last; and I don't believe in the Frenchman of great lineage.  If there
+is one, let's do battle as they did of old, if he likes.  What a fool I
+was to speak as I did just when she was so full of trouble!  I must have
+been mad--a declaration of love, and an announcement that the poor
+girl's brother was in trouble.  The young idiot!  The scoundrel!  How I
+should like to have his drilling for the next five years!  What shall I
+do?  I must help him.  It's true enough, I'm afraid; and he must have
+the best legal help.  If I had only some one to consult with.  Van
+Heldre would have been the man."
+
+There was a pause as the young man thought deeply of what steps he ought
+to take next.
+
+"Yes, with all his sham cynicism and silly whims, the old man is shrewd,
+and can help when he likes.  Uncle Luke!"
+
+Volume 2, Chapter VIII.
+
+A BROTHER'S APPEAL.
+
+Louise Vine stood trembling in her own room, listening till she heard
+the door close, and Duncan Leslie's step on the gravel.  Her agitation
+was terrible, and in place of being clear-headed and ready to act in
+this emergency, she felt as if her brain was in a turmoil of contending
+emotions.  Indignation on her brother's behalf, anger against Leslie for
+his announcement, and another form of anger which she could not define,
+struggled with a desire to go to her brother's help, and at last she
+placed her hands to her head and pressed them there.
+
+"What shall I do?" she panted.
+
+"Louise, Louise, my child!"
+
+It was Aunt Marguerite's voice, and there was a sharp tapping on the
+panel of the door after the handle had been turned.
+
+"Louise, my child, unlock this door."
+
+She made no reply, but stood with her hands clasped together, listening
+to the sharp voice and the quick tapping repeated on the panel.  Both
+ceased after a few minutes, and Aunt Marguerite's door was heard to
+close loudly.
+
+"I could not talk to her now," muttered the girl.  "She makes me so
+angry.  She was so insulting to Mr Leslie.  But he deserved it," she
+said aloud, with her cheeks burning once more, and her eyes flashing, as
+she drew herself up.  "My brother--a common thief--the man who injured
+Mr Van Heldre!  It is not true."
+
+She started violently and began to tremble, for there was a sharp
+pattering on her window-panes, as if some one had thrown a few small
+shot.  Would Duncan Leslie dare to summon her like that?  The pattering
+was repeated, and she went cautiously to the window, to make out in the
+gloom a figure that certainly was not that of Leslie.
+
+She opened the casement with nervous anxiety now.
+
+"Asleep?" cried a hasty voice.  "There, stand aside--I'm coming up."
+
+There was a rustling noise--a sharp crack or two, a hand was thrown over
+the window-sill, and, panting with exertion, Harry clambered in.
+
+"Harry!" cried Louise in alarm, for his acts, his furtive way of coming
+to the house, and his manifest agitation did not suggest innocence.
+
+"Hush!  Don't talk aloud.  Where's the governor?"
+
+"Father is at Mr Van Heldre's."  Harry drew in a quick spasmodic
+breath.  "And Aunt Marguerite?"
+
+"In her room.  But, Harry!"
+
+"Be quiet.  Don't talk.  Let me get my breath."
+
+Louise stood before him with her hands clasped, and a flow of agonising
+thoughts seeming to sweep her reason away.  All was confusion, but above
+the flood there was one thing to which she clung--Harry was innocent.
+In spite of everything in the way of appearance, he was innocent;
+nothing should turn her from that.
+
+"Well," he said suddenly, "haven't you anything to say?"
+
+There was a savage vindictive tone in his voice which startled her more
+than his previous threatening way.
+
+"Yes; where have you been?  Why do you come back like this?"
+
+"Where have I been?  Up on the cliffs, wandering about among the rocks,
+and hiding till it grew dark and I could come home.  And why did I come
+home like this?  You know.  Of course you have heard."
+
+"Mr Leslie came, and--"
+
+"Mr Leslie!" cried Harry with a mocking laugh.  "Save us from our
+friends."
+
+Louise's sympathy swung round on the instant to the side of the
+attacked; and, hardly knowing what she said--
+
+"Mr Leslie came to bear some terrible news, and to offer to help you."
+
+"To help me!" cried Harry, with the eagerness of him who catches at
+straws.  "And you--what did you say?"
+
+"I said the information was false--a miserable invention.  And I repeat
+it.  Harry, it is not true?"
+
+He made no reply for a few moments, while, sobbing and terrified, Louise
+clung to him.
+
+"Harry," she said excitedly, "why do you not speak?"
+
+"Don't talk to me," he said hoarsely, "I'm thinking."
+
+"But, Harry, I laugh at Aunt Marguerite's follies about descent and our
+degradation; but it is your duty to make a stand for our father's sake.
+Who has dared to accuse you of all this?"
+
+"Don't talk to me," he said in an angry whisper, as he ran to the window
+and listened, crossing the room directly after to try the door.
+
+Louise gazed at him in a horrified way, and her heart sank down, down,
+as her brother's acts suggested the possibility of his guilt.  Then,
+like a flash of light, a thought irradiated her darkening soul, and she
+caught her brother's arm.
+
+"I know!" she cried.
+
+"You--you know?"
+
+"Yes, I see it all now; and why this charge has been made.  It was Mr
+Pradelle."
+
+"Pradelle!"
+
+"And that is why he left so suddenly.  Harry, my poor brother!"
+
+"Let Pradelle be," he said huskily.  "I'm not going to hide behind
+another man."
+
+"Oh!  But, Harry!"
+
+"Look here," he said uneasily; "I want your help, and you do nothing but
+talk."
+
+"I will be silent; but tell me it is not true."
+
+"Do you want me to make matters worse by telling some paltry lie?" he
+said.  "Yes; it is true."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"No: not all true.  I did not steal that money."
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated Louise; and she reeled to her bed, and would have
+fallen but for the post she grasped.
+
+"I've no time to explain, but you must know.  Yes; I did knock old Van
+Heldre down."
+
+"Harry!" she groaned.
+
+"And Crampton saw me come away; he has sent for the London police; and,
+unless I can get off, I shall be taken and tried."
+
+Louise literally tottered towards him.
+
+"No, no," he said angrily.  "You are going to talk and preach.  You
+don't want to see me disgracing you all by being cast in gaol?"
+
+Disgracing them!  Louise's first thought was of Duncan Leslie, and a
+pang of agony shot through her.  How could she ever look him in the face
+again?  A chill that seemed to paralyse shot through her.  The hope that
+she had nursed was cast out, and her brother's word seemed to open out a
+future so desolate and blank that she turned upon him angrily.
+
+"Harry!" she cried, "this is not--cannot be true."  He paid no heed to
+her words, but stood biting his nails, evidently thinking, and at last
+he turned upon her like one at bay, as she said, after a painful pause,
+"You do not answer.  Am I to believe all this?  No, I cannot--will not
+believe it, Harry.  It can't--it can't be true."
+
+"Yes," he said, as if waking from a dream.  "One of the lads would take
+me over in his lugger.  St Malo; that would do.  Louie, what money have
+you?"
+
+"Then it is true?" she said.
+
+"True?  Yes; it's true enough."
+
+"Then you--oh, Harry, for pity's sake--Harry!"
+
+She burst into a wild fit of sobbing.
+
+"That's right," he cried savagely.  "I came to you for help and you go
+into hysterics.  There, unlock that door, and get me something to eat,
+and while I'm enjoying myself, you can send Liza for the police."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"Then why don't you act like a sensible girl?  Listen; nobody must know
+that I have been here; not even the governor.  I'm going to steal down
+to the harbour by and by; and I shall get Joe Lennen or Dick Paul to
+take me over to France.  If I stay here I shall be arrested, and
+disgrace you all.  There never was such an unlucky fellow as I am.
+Here, once more, what money have you?"
+
+"Very little, Harry," she said; "about three sovereigns."
+
+"Has aunt any?  No; she must not know that I'm here.  Louie, you must
+let me have your watch."
+
+"Yes, Harry," she said, as she stood before him, cold and striving hard
+to master her emotion as a mute feeling of despair attacked her.
+
+"And you'll help me, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, Harry," she said, in the same cold mechanical way.
+
+"Let me have your chain and rings, and any other trinket that will fetch
+money.  Must have something to live upon till this trouble has blown
+over.  You see I am penniless; I am not a thief.  I shall soon get right
+again, and you shall have all these things a dozen times over."  She
+suppressed a sigh.  "Be quick then--there's a good girl!  I've no time
+to waste."
+
+Louise moved across the room to the drawers, and took from the top a
+small rosewood box, which she placed upon the table.  Then taking her
+watch from her waist, she was in the act of unfastening the chain, when
+there was the sound of a closing door below, and her father's voice,
+sounding loud and excited, as it called her by name.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter IX.
+
+IN DEFENCE OF HIS YOUNG.
+
+"Louise!  Where is Louise?"  The step on the stairs sounded like that of
+a younger man; and as the door was tried, Harry had reached the window,
+from whence he was about to climb, when he fancied he saw some one
+below, and he hastily closed the casement, and drew back trembling.
+"Louise! open this door."
+
+"No, no," whispered Harry.  "He must not know I am here."
+
+"Not know?"
+
+"Am I to break this door?" was thundered from the other side.
+
+Harry glanced once more at the window.  It was fancy.  Nne was below now
+that he could see; and he was in the act of unfastening it when there
+was a crash, the door flew open, and his father strode into the room.
+It did not seem to be the same man, and Harry shrank from the fierce,
+erect, angry figure which approached.
+
+"As I might have guessed.  You coward!  So you would strip your sister
+of what money and jewels she has and then escape!"  Harry stood before
+him silent and with his head averted.  "You did not counsel this flight,
+Louise?"
+
+"No, father," she said, in a low voice full of pain; and she looked from
+one to the other, as if mentally stunned, and unable to realise the
+force of all that was taking place.
+
+"I thought not.  You abject, miserable wretch!"
+
+Harry started, and gazed half in fear, half in wonder, at the stern,
+commanding figure before him.
+
+"It--it was to save you all from disgrace."
+
+Vine burst into a discordant laugh.
+
+"From disgrace--to save us from disgrace?  And is this part of your
+childish aunt's teaching?"
+
+"Father!  Pray!" whispered Louise, rousing herself and clinging to his
+arm.
+
+"Silence, my child!" he cried.  "I am not angry with you.  I blame
+myself.  Weak and indulgent.  Tolerating that foolish woman's whims,
+that her old age might pass peacefully away, I have allowed all her
+follies to go; but I did not believe these seeds could strike so deep a
+root.  To save us from disgrace!  So this is being the aristocratic
+gentleman of French descent!  The man who would prefer death to
+dishonour--the man who scorns to sully his hands by embarking in some
+honest trade!  And I, wrapped in my pursuits, riding my weak hobby, have
+let things go till they have ended thus!"
+
+"But, father, think!  Be merciful."
+
+"Think?  I dare not, girl.  Merciful?  No.  He is no longer my son.  We
+must bear the disgrace as best we can; hide our shame elsewhere.  You
+and I, father and sister of a miserable convict, who in the pursuit of
+money and title could stoop to rob."
+
+"No, no, father; not rob."
+
+"Scoundrel! don't speak, or I may forget myself, and strike you down as
+you struck down your benefactor, the man who stretched out his hand to
+save you from the ruin that dogged your heels."
+
+"It was a miserable accident, father.  I did not steal."
+
+"Bah!  Lies come easily to such as you; but I have no words to waste,
+there is no time for that."
+
+"No, father; quick, before it is too late," whispered Louise.  "Let him
+go; let him escape to France--to repent, father.  He is your son."
+
+"No.  I disown him.  And you counsel this--you, girl?"
+
+"Yes, father, you will spare him," sobbed Louise; "he is my brother."
+
+"He has broken those ties; neither son nor brother to us, my child.  He
+has blasted your future by branding you as a convict's sister, and
+embittered the few years left to me, so that I would gladly end them
+now."
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Hush, my child!  I am rightly punished for my weakness.  I hoped that
+he would change.  I was not blind, only patient, for I said that these
+follies would soon pass, and now I am awakened to this.  My son in the
+hands of the police!" he laughed in a wild, discordant tone.  "Monsieur
+Le Comte des Vignes, I must have been mad."
+
+"Go!" said Harry, fiercely.  "Trample me down.  There, let me pass.
+Better in the hands of the police than here."
+
+"No, no!" cried Louise excitedly.  "Father, he must escape.  It is one
+great horror, do not make it worse by letting him go there."
+
+"Worse, girl? there is no worse!" cried Vine, sternly.  "I thank my God
+that we are living in a land where stern good laws are pre-eminent, and
+where justice rules with unswerving hand.  You know not what you say."
+
+"Yes, father--dearest father, help him to go and repent the evil he has
+done."
+
+"Go and repent?  Yes, that is the only hope; but it shall be as the
+honest repentant man, ready to acknowledge and bear the punishment of
+his crime."
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Yes; look at him--look at the base, cowering wretch, ready to go and
+hide his face in any shelter to escape the fate he has earned!  Look at
+his guilty conscience, branding him even now!  And you say, let him go!"
+
+"Yes, father.  What could I say?"
+
+"Nothing!" cried Harry, turning round, as the trampled worm turns
+beneath the boot that crushes it into the earth.  "It is true; I struck
+poor old Van Heldre down; but whatever I may have thought before, I did
+not go to steal that money.  I did not steal it.  And now what do you
+want me to do?"
+
+"Go: act as a man who claims such descent as ours should do, in the
+country which opened to him its arms, and whose laws he has
+transgressed.  The police are here from London.  Go and give yourself
+up; suffer your punishment as one who would atone, and years hence in
+the future, when you are freed, come to me and ask my pardon--kneeling
+humbly by my grave."
+
+"Father!"
+
+"No more.  The way is open now.  Go at once, before you are dragged
+through the streets handcuffed like some common felon.  To save us from
+disgrace you say--that is the only way."
+
+He stood erect, with his eyes flashing, knit brows, and nostrils
+quivering, pointing to the door, while with his left arm he supported
+Louise, whose face gazed wildly into his, no mean representative of that
+_Haute Noblesse_ which had sought refuge here when persecution drove
+them from their land.
+
+"Father!  Harry!" cried Louise, but only the latter spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said, drawing himself up.  "You are right, I'll go."
+
+He strode quickly toward the door; but before he reached it, Liza threw
+it back.
+
+"Miss Louise," she cried, "the police!"
+
+With hasty stride the old man rushed to the door and thrust it to.
+
+"Oh!" he gasped, and then after a pause there was one low, hoarse appeal
+to heaven for aid, "My God!"
+
+The adjuration spoke volumes, and for a few moments the old man stood
+there as if in a cataleptic state.  Then a change came over him, his
+pale face flushed, the veins in his forehead stood out and throbbed, and
+he dashed to his son.
+
+"Quick, Harry!  France!"
+
+As he spoke Harry broke from him and dashed to the window, threw it
+open, and was about to spring out, but he drew back.  There was no fancy
+this time; two policemen could be dimly seen below.
+
+"Too late, father," he said calmly.
+
+"No, my boy! this way, hush!"
+
+He snatched open the door, and a quick-looking, well-knit man stood
+framed in the entry.
+
+"Ah!" he said sharply, as he fixed Harry with his eye, "Mr Henry Vine,
+I arrest you on a warrant.  Robbery and attempt to murder."
+
+"No," roared the father frantically, and he flung himself upon the
+officer.  "Run, Harry, run!"
+
+Louise stood clinging to the ironwork of her bedstead, sick with horror,
+as a terrible struggle ensued.  It only lasted a few moments; and as she
+saw her father and the detective officer wrestling together, her brother
+clenched his fists, set his teeth, and dashed at them.
+
+"_No_, no; run!" roared the father in a voice she did not know; and in
+obedience, Harry dashed through the doorway and was gone.
+
+"You're mad, old man!" cried the detective, tearing himself free,
+drawing back, and then rushing towards the door.
+
+But with a wonderful display of activity and vigour, the old naturalist
+sprang at him once more, and with clenched fist struck him so fierce a
+blow full on the cheek that the man swerved sideways, and would have
+fallen but for the wall.
+
+"When I come back!" he roared savagely, as he recovered himself; and,
+springing through the door, he bounded down the stairs after Harry Vine,
+father and sister staggering to the landing just as the door across the
+hall swung to with a heavy bang, and the sounds of feet rapidly beating
+the shingle rose loudly on the silence of the night.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter X.
+
+ON HIS BEHALF.
+
+"What have I done? what have I done?" groaned Vine.  "I might have
+forgiven him and let him escape, and then--Louise, Louise, my child,
+come with me.  We must find him and help."
+
+Louise hurried back into her room to get hat and scarf, and returned to
+the landing to find her father and Aunt Margaret face to face.
+
+"It is a judgment upon you, George--a judgment!" cried the old lady
+excitedly.  "Yes; you dragged the poor boy down to that wretched life,
+and in his madness and misery he made one bold stroke for freedom."
+
+"Louise, my child, quick!" cried Vine.  "I cannot answer her now.
+Quick! get me away, or I shall say words to her that I shall repent as
+long as I live."
+
+"I say it is a judgment!" cried Aunt Margaret.  "Poor boy! if you had
+taken my advice--"
+
+The door closed.  They were out in the clear, starry night, hurrying
+down the path toward the town, but Aunt Margaret's words were ringing in
+Vine's ears.  A judgment.  Why?  What had he done?  "Have I been to
+blame?  Is she right?  Have I been to blame?" he muttered, as they
+hurried down, the words being the secret communing of his heart, but
+they were loud enough for Louise to hear, and as she clung to his arm
+she whispered emphatically--"No, father, no!"
+
+"No?  Louise, what are you saying?"
+
+"That you have not been to blame.  My dear, patient, indulgent father."
+
+"Indulgent?" he said hoarsely.  "Yes; indulgent.  I have been indulgent,
+and yet Heaven knows how I have striven to make ours a happy home for
+all."
+
+"And you have, father," sobbed Louise, "till Harry proved so wilful and
+went astray."
+
+"Yes; went astray.  But he must go, my child; he must not be taken.  I
+have a little money with me, and will send him more.  I want to do that
+which is just and right, but I could not bear to see him taken off to
+gaol."
+
+Louise uttered a low moan as they hurried on down the path.
+
+"Where will he go?  Where will he hide?" whispered Vine, excitedly.  "He
+could not escape by the road, the railway station is certain to be
+watched, and there is the telegraph."
+
+"Stop!" said Louise, holding one hand to her head, as in the terrible
+confusion of conflicting thought she tried to recall something her
+brother had said.
+
+"Yes, I recollect now," she said.  "He told me he meant to escape across
+to France, and that he would ask one of the fishermen to sail with him
+to St Malo."
+
+"Hah! yes.  Then he will escape.  Whom did he say?"
+
+"I cannot recollect the name, and yet it is familiar."
+
+"Try, my child, try."
+
+"I am trying hard, father," said Louise sadly, "but I cannot recollect."
+
+"Oh!" groaned her father, as they hurried on down the path, "for pity's
+sake, try, my child, try."
+
+"Yes, I remember," she cried at last--"Paul."
+
+"Dick Paul--the man who sailed with us to the rocks near Scilly?"
+
+"Yes, yes!"
+
+"Ha! then if he has escaped so far he will be there."
+
+"Do you know which is his cottage?"
+
+"Yes, I know.  Quick, girl, quick!"
+
+They almost ran down the rest of the way, each looking excitedly about
+in the expectation of there being a hue and cry, and of seeing the
+fugitive rush by, hunted by a senseless crowd, eager to see him caught.
+
+But all was perfectly still, the great stars shone down on the sleepy
+place, the lights burned in windows here and there, and as they reached
+a turn where the harbour lay before them the light at the mouth shone
+out like a lurid, fiery eye, staining the calm water with a patch of
+light, which seemed weird and strange amidst the spangled gleams
+reflected from the stars.  Hardly a sound, till a swing door was opened
+a short distance in front, and there floated out in harmony one of the
+West-country ditties the fishermen loved to sing.  The door swung to,
+and the part-song became a murmur.
+
+Vine gripped his daughter's hand with spasmodic violence, but she did
+not wince.  There was a pain, an agony in her breast which neutralised
+all other, as she hurried on by her father's side, thinking now of her
+erring brother, now of Duncan Leslie.  That dream, that growing love
+which she had tremblingly avowed to herself she felt for the frank,
+manly young mine-owner, was over, was crushed out, with all its
+bright-hued hopes of happiness; but he had said he loved her, and
+offered his aid.  Why was he not there now to help, when her brother was
+in such peril?  Why was he not there?
+
+The answer came like a dull blow.  She had reviled him, insulted him,
+and driven him away.  Then her heart replied: He loves me, he will
+forgive my hasty words, and will save my brother if I humble myself and
+ask.
+
+She started back to the reality from what seemed a dream, as her father
+hurried on along by a row of ill-built, rugged cottages on the cliff.
+
+"It is in one of these," he said huskily, "but I cannot recall which."
+
+As he hesitated one of the doors was opened, and a great, burly merman
+appeared, pipe in mouth.
+
+"Dick Paul's," he said, in answer to a question, "first door furder on.
+Fine night, master."
+
+"Yes, yes; thank you, thank you," cried Vine hastily.
+
+"But he arn't at home."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Him and four more went out at sundown to shoot their nets."
+
+Vine uttered a low groan.
+
+"Good-night!" said the man, and he moved off.
+
+"Stop!" cried Vine, and the man's heavy boots ceased to clatter on the
+rugged pebbles with which the way was paved.
+
+"Call me, Master Vine?"
+
+"Yes.  You know me?"
+
+"Know you?  Ay, and the young lady too.  Liza Perrow's Uncle Bob.
+Didn't I take you 'long the coast one day?"
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," said Vine hastily.  "Look here, my man; you have
+a boat."
+
+"Third share, master; just going out now.  My mates are waiting yonder."
+
+"In the harbour?"
+
+"Ay.  That's their lantern."
+
+"Look here, Perrow," said Vine excitedly, as he held the man tightly by
+the arm, "you are going fishing?"
+
+"Going to have a try, master."
+
+"And you will perhaps earn a pound apiece."
+
+"If we are lucky.  P'r'aps naught."
+
+"Perrow," whispered the old man, with his lips close to the man's face,
+"will you do me a service--a great service?"
+
+"Sarvice, sir?--Ay, sure I will."
+
+"Then look here.  Your boat would sail across to France?"
+
+"To France?" said the great bluff fellow, with a chuckle.  "Why, didn't
+some of our mates sail to Spain in a lugger a foot shorter than ours,
+and not so noo a boot!  France, ay, or Spain either."
+
+"Then look here; take a passenger over for me to-night; and I'll give
+you fifty pounds."
+
+"Fifty pounds, Master Vine?"
+
+"Yes.  Be ready; take him safely over, and bring me back word from him
+that he's safe, and I'll pay you a hundred."
+
+"Will you shake hands on that, master?"
+
+"You will do it?"
+
+"Do it for you, Master Vine?  Why, sir, bless you, we'd ha' done it fur
+five.  But if you tempt poor men wi' a big lump o' money like that--Do
+it?  I should think we will."
+
+"But your partners?" said Louise excitedly.  "Never you mind about them,
+miss.  I'm cap'n o' our boot.  Where's our passenger?  Lor', miss, don't
+do that."
+
+The man started, for Louise had caught his rough hand and kissed it.
+
+"I'll soon bring him to you," said the old man, with his voice
+trembling; "but look here, my man--you must ask no questions, you will
+not be put off, you will not refuse at the last moment?"
+
+"Look here, Master Vine, sir," said the man stolidly, "I arn't a fool.
+Hundred pound's a lot o' money, and of course it's to smuggle some one
+away on the quiet.  Well, so be it."
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated Vine.  "It's to 'blige you as I've knowd for a
+kind-hearted gent these ever so many years, though there was that bit o'
+trouble 'bout my brother's lass, as I don't believe took that there
+money."
+
+"No, no, she was innocent," cried Louise.
+
+"Thanks for that, miss, and--say, has young Master Harry been up to some
+game."
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"Never mind.  Don't you speak without you like, Master Vine, sir.
+Yonder's our boot, and I'll go down to her, and she shall lie off just
+outside, and I'll wait in our little punt down by the harbour steps.
+Will that do?"
+
+"Yes; and you will trust me to pay you a hundred pounds?"
+
+"Trust _you_?"
+
+The man uttered a low chuckle.
+
+"How long will he be, master?"
+
+"I--I don't know.  Wait till he comes."
+
+"Master Harry?" whispered the man.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All right, sir.  You trust me.  I'll trust you.  Night, miss.  I'll
+wait there if it's a week."
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated Vine, as the man's heavy step went on before them.
+"There is a way of escape for him.  I am a father, and what I ought to
+do by my friend pales before that.  Now to find him, my child, to find
+him.  He _must_ escape."
+
+Louise clung to his arm, and they stood there on the cliff-path
+listening, and each mentally asking the question, what to do?
+
+"If I could only get the faintest clue of his movements," muttered Vine.
+"Louise, my child, can you not suggest something?"
+
+She did not answer, for a terrible dread was upon her now.  Her brother
+might have been taken; and if so, there was no need to hesitate as to
+the way to go.
+
+As if the same thoughts had impressed him, Vine suddenly exclaimed, "No,
+no, they would not have taken him.  The man was a stranger, and Harry
+would be too quick."
+
+For the next hour they hurried here and there, passing Van Heldre's
+house, where a dim light in the window showed where the injured man lay.
+There was a vague kind of feeling that sooner or later they would meet
+Harry, but the minutes glided slowly by, and all was still.
+
+Out beyond the harbour light the faint gleam of a lantern could be seen,
+showing that Bob Perrow had kept faith with them, and that the lugger
+was swinging in the rapid current, fast to one of the many buoys used by
+the fishermen in fine weather.  But there was no sign or sound apparent;
+and, with their hearts sinking beneath the impression that Harry had
+been taken, and yet not daring to go and ask, father and daughter still
+wandered to and fro along the various streets of the little town.
+
+"Can he have taken boat and gone?" whispered Vine at last.
+
+"No," said Louise, "there would not have been time, and we should have
+seen the lights had a boat gone out."
+
+"George!"
+
+Two figures suddenly appeared out of the darkness, and stopped before
+them.
+
+"Luke?  You here?"
+
+"Yes; have you seen him?"
+
+"No; but is--is he--"
+
+"No, Mr Vine," said Leslie quickly.  "I have been up to the station
+twice."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"For Heaven's sake don't speak to me like that, Mr Vine," cried Leslie.
+"I know everything, and I am working for him as I would for my own
+brother."
+
+"Yes, it's all right, George," said Uncle Luke, with his voice softening
+a little.  "Leslie's a good fellow.  Look here; we must get the young
+dog away.  Leslie has chartered a fast boat, and she lies in the head of
+the harbour ready."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+It was an involuntary ejaculation from Louise.
+
+"We'll have have him taken across the Channel if we can find him.  Where
+can he be hidden?"
+
+"We have been twice on to your house, Mr Vine," said Leslie, who kept
+right away from Louise, and out of delicacy seemed to ignore her
+presence, but spoke so that she could hear every word.  "I have three of
+my miners on the look-out--men I can trust, and law or no law, we must
+save him from arrest."
+
+"Heaven bless you, Mr Leslie.  Forgive--"
+
+"Hush, sir.  There is no time for words.  The men from London with our
+own police are searching in every direction.  He got right away, and he
+is hiding somewhere, for he certainly would not take to the hills or the
+road, and it would be madness to try the rail."
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Luke.  "He's safe to make for the sea, and so get over
+yonder.  There's a boat lying off though, and I'm afraid that's keeping
+him back.  The police have that outside to stop him."
+
+"No; that is a boat I have chartered, Luke, waiting to save my poor
+boy."
+
+"Then before many hours are gone he'll be down by the harbour, that's my
+impression," said Uncle Luke.  "Confound you, George, why did you ever
+have a boy?"
+
+George Vine drew a long breath and remained silent.
+
+"If you will allow me, gentlemen," said Leslie, "I think we ought not to
+stay here like this.  The poor fellow will not know what precautions his
+friends have taken, and some one ought to be on the look-out to give him
+warning: whenever he comes down to the harbour."
+
+"Yes; that's true."
+
+"Then if I may advise, I should suggest, sir, that you patrol this side
+to and fro, where you must see him if he comes down to make for the west
+point; I'll cross over and watch the east pier, and if Mr Luke Vine
+here will stop about the head of the harbour, we shall have three
+chances of seeing him instead of one."
+
+Louise pressed her hand to her throbbing heart, as she listened to these
+words, and in spite of her agony of spirits, noted how Leslie avoided
+speaking to her, devoting himself solely to the task of helping her
+brother; and as she felt this, and saw that in future they could be
+nothing more than the most distant friends, a suffocating feeling of
+misery seemed to come over her, and she longed to hurry away, and sob to
+relieve her overcharged breast.
+
+"Leslie's right," said Uncle Luke, in a decisive way.  "Let's separate
+at once.  And look here, whoever sees him is to act, give him some
+money, and get him off at once.  He must go.  The trouble's bad enough
+now, it would be worse if he were taken, and it's the last thing Van
+Heldre would do, hand him to the police.  Leslie!"
+
+He held up his hand, but the steps he heard were only those of some
+fishermen going home from the river.
+
+"Now, then, let's act; and for goodness' sake, let's get the young idiot
+away, for I warn you all, if that boy's taken there'll be far worse
+trouble than you know of now."
+
+"Uncle Luke!" cried Louise piteously.
+
+"Can't help it, my dear.  There will, for I shall end a respectable life
+by killing old Crampton and being hung.  Come along, Leslie."
+
+The little party separated without a word, and Louise and her father
+stood listening till the steps of their late companions died away.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XI.
+
+"IN THE QUEEN'S NAME."
+
+As they stood together at the lower end of the rocky point listening and
+waiting, it seemed to Louise Vine as if she were about to be an actor in
+some terrible scene.
+
+Vine muttered a few words now and then, but they were inaudible to his
+child, who clung to his arm as he walked untiringly to and fro, watching
+the harbour and the way back into the town, while when he paused it was
+to fix his eyes upon the dimly-seen lantern of the lugger lying out
+beyond the point.  The portion of their walk nearest the town was well
+kept and roughly paved with great slabs of granite, in which were here
+and there great rings for mooring purposes, while at some distance apart
+were projecting masses roughly hewn into posts.  But as the distance
+from the town increased and the harbour widened, the jutting point was
+almost as if it had been formed by nature, and the footing was
+difficult, even dangerous at times.
+
+But in his excitement Vine did not heed this, going on and on regardless
+of the difficulties, and Louise unmurmuringly walked or at times climbed
+along till they were right out at the extreme point where, some feet
+below them, the water rushed and gurgled in and out of the crevices with
+terrible gasping noises, such as might be made by hungry sea monsters
+thronging round to seize them if either of them should make a slip.
+
+Here Vine paused again and again to watch the lantern in the lugger, and
+listen for the rattle of oars in the rowlocks, the oars of the boat
+conveying his son to the men who would at once hoist the sails and bear
+him away to a place of safety.  But the dim light of the horn lantern
+rose and fell, there was no rattle of oars, not even the murmur of a
+voice: nothing but the sucking, gasping noises at their feet, as the
+tide swirled by like the race of waters from some huge mill.
+
+Louise clung more tightly to her father's arm, as he stood again and
+again where she had often from a rock behind watched her uncle deftly
+throwing out his line to capture some silvery-sided bass or a mackerel,
+glowing with all the glories of the sea at sunrise.
+
+"If he should slip," she said to herself, as she tightened her grasp of
+her father's thin arm, "if he should slip!" and she shuddered as she
+gazed down into the deep, black rushing water, where the star
+reflections were all broken up and sparkled deep down as if the current
+were charged with gold-dust, swirling and eddying by.  Then she started
+as her father spoke aloud to himself.
+
+"No, no, no!" he murmured.  Then sharply, "Come, let us get back."
+
+Louise crept along by him in silence, her heart giving one violent leap,
+as Vine slipped once on the spray-swept rocks, but recovered himself and
+went on without a word.  Again and again she suffered that terrible
+catching of the breath, as her father slipped, caught his foot in some
+inequality, or would, but for her guidance, have stumbled over some
+projecting rock post and been thrown into the harbour.  For, as he
+walked on, his eyes were constantly searching the dark surface as he
+listened intently for some token of the escaping man.
+
+But all was still as they neared the town, still with the silence of
+death.  No one could have told that there were watchers by the ferry,
+where a rough boat was used for crossing from side to side of the
+harbour; that two boats were waiting, and that Duncan Leslie was
+patrolling the short arm of granite masonry that ran down to the
+tower-like building where the harbour lantern burned.
+
+"Hist!" whispered Louise, for there was a step some little distance
+away, but it ceased, and as she looked in its direction, the cliffs
+seemed to tower up behind the town till a black, jagged ridge cut the
+starry sky.
+
+"Let's go back," said her father, huskily.  "I fancied I heard a boat
+stealing along the harbour; we cannot see the lugger light from here."
+
+"George!" came from out of the darkness ahead.
+
+"Yes, Luke!" was whispered back sharply, and the old man came up.
+
+"Seen anything of him?"
+
+"No.  Have, you?"
+
+"Not a sign.  I sent one of the fishermen up to the police to see what
+he could find out, and--"
+
+"Uncle!" panted out Louise, as she left her father to cling to the old
+man.
+
+"Poor little lassie! poor little lassie!" he said tenderly, as he took
+her and patted her head.  "No news, and that's good news.  They haven't
+got him, but they're all out on the watch; the man from London and our
+dunderheads.  All on the watch, and I fancy they're on the look-out
+close here somewhere, and that's what keeps him back."
+
+Louise uttered a low moan.
+
+"Ah, it's bad for you, my dear," said Uncle Luke, whose manner seemed
+quite changed.  "You come with me, and let me take you home.  We don't
+want another trouble on our hands."
+
+"No, no," she said firmly, "I cannot leave him."
+
+"But you will be ill, child."
+
+"I cannot leave him, uncle," she said again; and going back to her
+father, she locked her fingers about his arm.
+
+"Hi! hoi! look out!" came from a distance; and it was answered directly
+by a voice not a hundred yards away.
+
+A thrill of excitement shot through the little group as they heard now
+the tramp of feet.
+
+"I knew it," whispered Uncle Luke.  "He's making for the harbour now."
+
+"Ah!" gasped Vine, as he almost dragged Louise over the rugged stones.
+
+"Stop where you are," said Uncle Luke, excitedly; and he placed
+something to his lips and gave a low shrill whistle.
+
+It was answered instantly from the other side of the harbour.
+
+"Leslie's on the look-out.  Yes, and the men with the boat," he
+whispered, excitedly, as another low whistle was heard.
+
+Then there was a few moments' silence, as if people were listening,
+followed by steps once more, and a quick voice exclaimed from out of the
+darkness,
+
+"Seen him?"
+
+Neither of the group answered, and a man stepped up to them and flashed
+the light of a lantern quickly over them before closing it again.
+
+"That's you, is it?" he said.  "I'll have a word with you by and by; but
+look here, I call upon you two men in the Queen's name to help me to
+take him.  If you help him to get away, it's felony, so you may take the
+consequences.  You haven't got to do with your local police now."
+
+The man turned away and walked swiftly back toward the town, the
+darkness seeming to swallow him up.  He paused for a few moments at the
+edge of the harbour, to throw the light of his lantern across the water.
+
+"The London man," said Uncle Luke, unconcernedly.  "Well, God save the
+Queen, but I'm sure she don't want us to help to capture our poor boy."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XII.
+
+"OH!  ABSALOM, MY SON, MY SON."
+
+Harry Vine had but one thought as he dashed out of his father's house,
+and that was to escape--far away to some other country where neither he
+nor his crime was known--to some place where, with the slate of his past
+life wiped clean, he might begin anew, and endeavour to show to his
+father, to his sister, perhaps to Madelaine Van Heldre, that he was not
+all bad.  How he would try, he told himself.  Only let him get aboard
+one of the fishing-luggers, and after confiding in some one or other of
+his old friends, the bluff fishermen who had often given him a sail or a
+day's fishing, beg of him to take him across to Jersey or St. Malo;
+anywhere, so as to avoid the terrible exposure of the law--anywhere to
+be free.
+
+"I'd sooner die than be taken," he said to himself as he sped on
+downward at a rapid rate.
+
+The way to the harbour seemed clear, and, though the officer was
+pursuing him, Harry had the advantage of the darkness, and the local
+knowledge of the intricate ways of the little town, so that he felt no
+fear of being able to reach the harbour and some boat.  He was reckoning
+without his host.  His host, or would-be host, was the detective
+sergeant, who had gone about his business in a businesslike manner, so
+that when Harry Vine was congratulating himself upon the ease with which
+he was able to escape, one of the local policemen started from his post
+right in the fugitive's way, nearly succeeding in catching him by the
+arm, an attention Harry avoided by doubling down one of the little
+alleys of the place.  Over and over again he tried to steal down to the
+harbour, but so sure as he left his hiding-place in one of the dark
+lanes or among the fishermen's stores he heard steps before him, and
+with the feeling that the whole town had now risen up against him, and
+that the first person he encountered would seize and hold him until the
+arrival of the police, he crept back, bathed with cold perspiration, to
+wait what seemed to be an interminable time before he ventured again.
+
+His last hiding-place was a wooden shed not far from the waterside--a
+place of old ropes and sails, and with a loft stored full of
+carefully-dried nets, put away till the shoals of fish for which they
+were needed visited the shore.  Here, in profound ignorance of what had
+been done on his behalf, he threw himself down on a heap of tarred
+canvas to try and devise some certain means of escape.  He had a vague
+intention of getting the fishermen to help him; but after thinking of
+several he could not decide which of the sturdy fellows would stand by
+such a culprit as he.  And as he lay there the bitter regrets for the
+past began to attack him.
+
+"Louise--sister," he muttered to himself, "I must have been mad.  And I
+lie here groaning like the coward I am," he said fiercely, as, thrusting
+back all thoughts of the past with the intention of beginning afresh, he
+stole out once more into the dark night, meaning to get to the harbour,
+and, failing a better means, to take some small sailing-boat, and to
+trust to his own skill to get safely across.  The place was far more
+quiet now; and, avoiding the larger lanes, he threaded his way through
+passage after passage among the net-stores and boat-houses till he
+reached the main street, along which he was walking noiselessly when a
+heavy regular pace ahead checked him, and, turning shortly round, he
+made for the first narrow back lane, reached it, and turned trembling as
+he recognised that it was the familiar path leading by the back of Van
+Heldre's, the way he knew so well.
+
+Hurrying on, he had nearly reached the bottom when he became aware of
+the fact that there was a policeman waiting.  He turned sharply back,
+after nearly walking into the arms of one of his enemies, and was nearly
+at the top once more when he found that the man whom he had tried to
+avoid was there too waiting.
+
+"I'm caught," he said bitterly, as he paused midway.  "Shall I dash for
+liberty?  No," he said bitterly; "better give up."
+
+He raised his hand to guide himself silently along, when he shivered,
+for it touched a gate which yielded, and as the steps advanced from
+front and rear, he stepped down.  Fate in her irony had decided that, to
+avoid arrest, he should take refuge in the premises of the man he had
+injured.  The steps came nearer, and trembling with horror the fugitive
+glanced upward to see that two windows were illumined, and there was
+light enough to show that the door leading into the corridor was open.
+He shrank from it, and was then driven to enter and stand inside,
+listening, for the steps stopped outside, the door yielded, and a voice
+said:
+
+"Couldn't have been him.  He wouldn't have gone there."
+
+The gate swung gently to and the fugitive began to breathe more freely,
+for, after a low whispered conversation, it was evident that the
+watchers were about to separate, when there was a loud cough which Harry
+knew only too well; and to his horror he saw faintly in at the end of
+the passage, his figure more plain by a light in the hall, the short
+stooping figure of Crampton coming towards him.  To have stepped out
+into the yard would have been into the light, where the old man must
+have seen him; and, obeying his first instinct, Harry crouched down, and
+as Crampton advanced, backed slowly along the corridor till farther
+progress was stayed by the outer door of the office.  Harry sank down in
+the corner, a dark shapeless heap to any one who had approached, and
+with heart throbbing, he waited.
+
+"He is coming into the office," he thought.
+
+But as the old man reached the opening into the yard he paused.  There
+was a faint rustling, then a flash, and a match flared out, illumining
+the old clerk's stern countenance, and it seemed as the tiny splint
+burned that discovery must take place now.  But Crampton was intent upon
+the business which had brought him there.  He had stolen out from his
+self-appointed task of watching over the house to have his nightly pipe,
+and for fully an hour Harry Vine crouched in the corner by the office
+door, seeing over and over again the horrors of the past, and trembling
+as he waited for the fresh discovery, while old Crampton softly paced
+the little yard, smoking pipe after pipe.
+
+That hour seemed as if it would never end, and at last in despair Harry
+was about to rise, when he heard Madelaine's voice, gently calling to
+the old man.
+
+"Hah!" he said softly; "a bad habit, Miss Madelaine, but it seems to
+soothe me now."
+
+Would he fasten the door and gate, and complete the horror of Harry's
+position by making him a prisoner?  The young man crouched there
+trembling, for Crampton re-crossed the yard, and there was the sound of
+two bolts being shot.  Then he regained the glass door, and was about to
+close that.
+
+"No," said Madelaine softly; "the night is so hot.  Leave that open, Mr
+Crampton."
+
+"Yes, my clear; yes, my clear," sighed the old man.  "I shall be in the
+little room, and nne is likely to come here now."
+
+Gone at last; and trembling so in his wild excitement that he could
+hardly stir, Harry Vine literally crept along the corridor, rose up and
+ran across the yard with the horrible sensation that the old clerk's
+hand was about to descend upon his shoulder.  The two bolts were shot
+back with a loud snap, the gate was flung open; and, reckless now, he
+dashed out and down the narrow lane.
+
+"He could bear no more," he said.  "The harbour and a boat."  He ran now
+rapidly, determined to end the terrible suspense, and for the first few
+moments he felt that his task would be easy; then he heard a warning
+shout, and in his dread took refuge in the first alley leading down to
+the harbour.
+
+Steps passed, and he emerged at the lower end, gained the main street by
+returning through another of the alleys by which, after the fashion of
+Yarmouth, the little town was scored.
+
+"Five minutes will take me there now," he panted; and, forcing himself
+to walk, he was hurrying on when a shout told him that his enemies were
+well upon the alert.  With the horrible sense of being hunted, he
+clashed on, blindly now, reckless as to which way he went, so long as he
+reached the waterside.  As he ran, he was about to strike down to the
+left where the landing-steps lay; and had he reached them there was a
+boat and men waiting, but the London detective had discovered that and
+was on the alert.
+
+Harry almost ran into his arms, but with a cry of rage he doubled back
+and ran for the shore, where he might set pursuit at defiance by hiding
+in the rocks below the cliff.  But another man sprang up in his way, and
+in his despair he ran off to his left again, right along the great pier,
+towards the point.
+
+"We've got him now," shouted a voice behind as Harry rushed out, just
+conscious of a shriek as he brushed by a group of figures, hardly seen
+in the darkness.  He heard, too, some confused words in which "boat" and
+"escape" seemed to be mingled.  But in his excitement he could only
+think of those behind, as there came the patter of his pursuers' feet on
+the rough stones.
+
+There was a shrill whistle from the other side of the harbour, followed
+by a hail, and the splash of oars in the darkness, while a low "ahoy!"
+came from off the point.
+
+"Yes," muttered the officer between his teeth, "you're a nice party down
+here, but I've got my man."
+
+What followed was the work of moments.  Harry ran on till the rugged
+nature of the point compelled him to walk, then step cautiously from
+rock to rock.  The harbour was on one side, the tide rushing in on the
+other; before him the end of the point, with its deep water and eddying
+currents, which no swimmer could stem, and behind him the London officer
+with the local police close up.
+
+There was a boat, too, in the harbour, and the fugitive had heard the
+whistle and cries.  He saw the light of the lugger out ahead, and to
+him, in his mad horror of capture, they meant enemies--enemies on every
+hand.
+
+And so he reached the extreme point, where, peering wildly about, like
+some hunted creature seeking a way of escape, he turned at bay.
+
+"There, sir, the game's up," cried the officer.  "You've made a good
+fight of it, so now give in."
+
+"Keep back!" roared Harry hoarsely.  And he stooped and felt about for a
+loose piece of rock where every scrap had been washed away.
+
+"Will you give in?" cried the officer.
+
+"Keep back!" cried Harry again, in a tone so fierce that for a moment
+the officer paused.
+
+There was another whistle from across the harbour, a shout and a hail
+out of the darkness, but nothing save the dim lantern light could be
+seen.
+
+"Now then, you two," said the officer decidedly, "back me up."
+
+There was a faint click as he drew something from his pocket and without
+hesitation stepped boldly over the few feet which separated him from
+Harry Vine.
+
+Panting, half wild, hearing the whistles, the cries, and still divining
+nothing but that there were enemies on every hand, the young man uttered
+a hoarse cry as the detective caught at his breast.  With one well-aimed
+blow he struck out, sent the man staggering back, and then, as those who
+had watched and waited came panting up, he turned quickly, stepped to
+the very edge, raised his hands, and plunged into the rushing tide.
+
+"Harry! my son!" rang out on the darkness of the night.
+
+But there was no answer.  The black water seemed to flash with a myriad
+points of light, and then ran, hissing and rushing in a contending
+current, out to sea.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XIII.
+
+"THE LORD GAVE, AND--"
+
+"Boat ahoy!  Whoever you are--this way--boat!"
+
+"Ahoy!" came back from three quarters--from two different points in the
+harbour, and from out to sea.
+
+Then came another whistle from far back on the other side of the
+harbour, and in a shrill voice from between his hands Uncle Luke yelled:
+"Leslie, another boat, man, for the love of heaven!"
+
+"Here! you there, sir! the nearest boat--quick, pull!" roared the
+detective in stentorian tones.  "Have you no light?"
+
+"Ay, ay," came back; and a lantern that had been hidden under a
+tarpaulin coat shone out, dimly showing the boat's whereabouts.
+
+"That's right; pull, my lads, off here.  Man overboard off the rocks.
+This way."
+
+An order was given in the boat, and her course was altered.
+
+"No, no," cried the officer; "this way, my lads, this way."
+
+"We know what we're about," came back.
+
+"Yes, yes; they know," said Uncle Luke, hoarsely.  "Let them be; the
+current sets the way they've taken.  He's right out there by now."
+
+The old man's arm was dimly seen pointing seawards, but the detective
+was not convinced.
+
+"It's a trick to throw me on the wrong scent," he said excitedly.
+"Here, you"--to one of the local police--"why don't you speak?"
+
+"Mr Luke Vine's right, sir; he knows the set o' the tide.  The poor
+lad's swept right out yonder long ago, and Lord ha' mercy upon him, poor
+chap.  They'll never pick him up."
+
+"Can you see him?" roared the officer, using his hands as a
+speaking-trumpet.
+
+There was no reply; but the lantern could be seen rising and falling
+now, as the little craft began to reach the swell at the harbour bar.
+Then there was a hail out of the harbour, as the second boat came along,
+and five minutes after the rapid beat of oars told of the coming of
+another boat.
+
+"Ahoy, lad! this way," rose from the boat with the lantern.
+
+"Whose boat's that?" said the detective, quickly.
+
+"Dunno," replied the nearest policeman.
+
+"They'll pick him up, and he'll escape after all.  Confound it!  Here,
+hoi! you in that boat.  In the Queen's name, stop and take me aboard."
+
+"They won't pick him up," said the nearest policeman solemnly.  "You
+don't know this coast."
+
+There was a low groan from a figure crouching upon its knees, and
+supporting a woman's head, happily insensible to what was passing
+around.
+
+"George, lad," whispered Uncle Luke, "for the poor girl's sake, let's
+get her home.  George! don't you hear me?  George!  It is I--Luke."
+
+There was no reply, and the excitement increased as a swift boat now
+neared the end of the point.
+
+"Where is he?  Is he swimming for the boat?" cried a voice, hardly
+recognisable in its hoarse excitement for that of Duncan Leslie.
+
+"He jumped off, Mr Leslie, sir," shouted one of the policemen.
+
+"Row, my lads.  Pull!" shouted Leslie; "right out."
+
+"No, no," roared the detective; "take me aboard.  In the Queen's name,
+stop!"
+
+"Pull," cried Leslie to the men; and then turning to the detective,
+"While we stopped to take you the man would drown, and you couldn't get
+aboard at this time of the tide."
+
+"He's quite right," said the policeman who had last spoken.  "It's risky
+at any time; it would be madness now."
+
+The detective stamped, as in a weird, strange way the voices kept coming
+from out of the darkness, where two dim stars could be seen, as the
+lanterns were visible from time to time; and now Leslie's voice followed
+the others, as he shouted:
+
+"This way, Vine, this way.  Hail, man!  Why don't you hail?"
+
+"Is this part of the trick to get him away?" whispered the detective to
+one of his men.  The man made no reply, and his silence was more
+pregnant than any words he could have spoken.
+
+"But they'll pick him up," he whispered, now impressed by the other's
+manner.
+
+"Look out yonder," said the policeman, a native of the place; "is it
+likely they'll find him there?"
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated the detective.
+
+"And there's no such current anywhere for miles along the coast as runs
+off here."
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated the man again, as he stood now watching the lights,
+one of which kept growing more distant, while the hails somehow seemed
+to be more faint and wild, and at last to resemble the despairing cries
+of drowning men.
+
+"Listen," whispered the detective in an awe-stricken tone, as he strove
+to pierce the darkness out to sea.
+
+"It was Master Leslie, that," said the second policeman; "I know his
+hail."
+
+Just then there was a wild hysterical fit of sobbing, and George Vine
+rose slowly from his knees, and staggered towards the group.
+
+"Luke!" he cried, in a half-stunned, helpless way, "Luke, you know--
+Where are you?  Luke!"
+
+"Here, George," said Uncle Luke sadly, for he had knelt down in the
+place his brother had occupied the moment before.
+
+"You know the currents.  Will they--will he--"
+
+He faltered and paused, waiting his brother's reply, and the three
+officers of the law shuddered, as, after a few minutes' silence, broken
+only by a groan from the kneeling man, George Vine cried in a piteous
+voice that sounded wild and thrilling in the solemn darkness of the
+night:
+
+"God help me!  Oh, my son, my son!"
+
+"Quick, mind!  Good heavens, sir!  Another step and--"
+
+The detective had caught the stricken father as he tottered and would
+have fallen headlong into the tide, while, as he and another of the men
+helped him back to where Louise still lay, he was insensible to what
+passed around.
+
+But still the dim lights could be seen growing more and more distant,
+and each hail sounded more faint, as the occupants of the boats called
+to each other, and then to him they sought, while, after each shout, it
+seemed to those who stood straining their eyes at the end of the pier,
+that there was an answering cry away to their left; but it was only the
+faint echo repeating the call from the face of the stupendous cliffs
+behind the town.
+
+"Why don't they come back here and search?" cried the officer angrily.
+
+"What for?" said a voice at his elbow; and he turned to see dimly the
+shrunken, haggard face of Uncle Luke.
+
+"What for?" retorted the officer.  "He may have swum in the other
+direction."
+
+"So might the world have rolled in the other direction, and the sun rise
+to-morrow in the west," said the old man angrily.  "No swimmer could
+stem that current."
+
+"But why have they gone so far?"
+
+"They have gone where the current took them," said Uncle Luke, coldly.
+"Want the help of your men to get these poor creatures home."
+
+The detective made no reply, but stood gazing out to sea and listening
+intently.  Then turning to his men--
+
+"One of you keep watch here in case they try to land with him.  You come
+with me."
+
+The two policemen followed his instructions, one taking his place at the
+extreme end of the point, the other following just as voices were heard,
+and a group of fishermen, who had been awakened to the fact that there
+was something wrong, came down the rocky breakwater.
+
+"Here, some of you, I want a boat--a swift boat, and four men to pull.
+Ah, you!"
+
+This to a couple of the coastguard who had put in an appearance, and
+after a few hurried words one party went toward the head of the
+breakwater, while another, full of sympathy for the Vines, went on to
+the end of the point.
+
+There was plenty of willing help, but George Vine had now recovered from
+his swoon, and rose up to refuse all offers of assistance.
+
+"No, Luke," he said more firmly now; "I must stay."
+
+"But our child, Louise?"
+
+"She must stay with me."
+
+Louise had risen to her feet as he spoke, and clung to his arm in mute
+acquiescence; and once more they stood watching the star-spangled sea.
+
+Ten minutes later a well-manned boat passed out of the harbour, with the
+detective officer in her bows and a couple of the strongest lights they
+could obtain.
+
+Just as this boat came abreast of the point the rowing ceased, and a
+brilliant glare suddenly flashed out as the officer held aloft a blue
+signal light; and while the boat was forced slowly along he carefully
+scanned the rocks in the expectation of seeing his quarry clinging
+somewhere to their face.
+
+The vivid light illumined the group upon the point, and the water
+flashed and sparkled as it ran eddying by, while from time to time a
+gleaming drop of golden fire dropped with a sharp hissing explosion into
+the water, and a silvery grey cloud of smoke gathered overhead.
+
+The officer stayed till the blue light had burned out, and then tossing
+the wooden handle into the water, he gave his orders to the men to row
+on out toward the other boats.  The transition from brilliant light to
+utter darkness was startling as it was sudden; and as the watchers
+followed the dim-looking lanterns, they saw that about a mile out they
+had paused.
+
+George Vine uttered a gasping sigh, and his child clung to him as if
+both realised the meaning of that halt.  But they were wrong, for when
+the men in the detective's boat had ceased rowing, it was because they
+were close abreast of the lugger, whose crew had hailed them.
+
+"Got him?"
+
+"_No_.  Is he aboard your boat?"
+
+Without waiting for an answer, the detective and his men boarded the
+lugger, and, to the disgust of her crew, searched from end to end.
+
+"Lucky for you, my lads, that he is not here," said the officer.
+
+"Unlucky for him he arn't," said one of the men.  "If he had been we
+shouldn't have had you aboard to-night."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Only that we should have been miles away by now."
+
+"Do you think either of the other boats has picked him up?"
+
+"Go and ask 'em," said another of the men sulkily.
+
+"No, sir," said one of the coastguard, "they haven't picked him up."
+
+"Back!" said the detective shortly; and, as soon as they were in the
+boat, he gave orders for them to row towards the faint light they could
+see right away east.  They were not long in coming abreast, for the boat
+was returning.
+
+"Got him?" was shouted.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then why did you make the signal?"
+
+The detective officer was a clever man, but it had not occurred to him
+that the blue light he had obtained from the coastguard station and
+burned would act as a recall.  But so it was, and before long the second
+boat was reached, and that which contained Duncan Leslie came up, the
+latter uttering an angry expostulation at being brought back from his
+search.
+
+"It's no good, Mr Leslie, sir," said the fisherman who had made the
+bargain with Vine.
+
+"No good?" cried Leslie angrily.  "You mean you're tired, and have not
+the manhood to continue the search."
+
+"No, sir, I don't," said the man quietly.  "I mean I know this coast as
+well as most men.  I'll go searching everywhere you like; but I don't
+think the poor lad can be alive."
+
+"Ay, ay, that's right, mate," growled two others of his fellows.
+
+"He was a great swimmer," continued the man sadly; "but it's my belief
+he never come up again."
+
+"Why do you say that?" cried the detective from his boat, as the four
+hung clustered together, a singular-looking meeting out there on the
+dark sea by lantern light.
+
+"Why do I say that?  Why 'cause he never hailed any on us who knew him,
+and was ready to take him aboard.  Don't matter how good a swimmer a man
+is, he'd be glad of a hand out on a dark night, and with the tide
+running so gashly strong."
+
+"You may be right," said Leslie, "but I can't go back like this.  Now,
+my lads, who's for going on?"
+
+"All on us," said the fisherman who had first spoken, and the boats
+separated to continue their hopeless task.
+
+All at once there was a faint streak out in the east, a streak of dull
+grey, and a strange wild, faint cry came off the sea.
+
+"There!" cried the detective; "pull, my lads, pull! he is swimming
+still.  No, no, more towards the right."
+
+"Swimming?--all this time, and in his clothes!" said one of the
+coastguard quietly.  "That was only a gull."
+
+The detective struck his fist into his open left hand, and stood gazing
+round over the glistening water; as the stars paled, the light in the
+east increased till the surface of the sea seemed steely grey, and by
+degrees it grew so light that near the harbour a black speck could be
+seen, toward which the officer pointed.
+
+"Buoy," said the nearest rower laconically, and the officer swept the
+surface again.  Then there was a faint shade of orange nearly in the
+zenith, a flock of gulls flew past, and here and there there were flecks
+and splashes of the pale silvery water, which ere long showed the
+reflection of the orange sky, and grew golden.  The rocks that lay at
+the foot of the huge wall of cliff were fringed with foam, and wherever
+there was a break in the shore and some tiny river gurgled down, a
+wreathing cloud of mist hung in the hollow.
+
+Moment by moment the various objects grew more distinct; black masses of
+rock fringed with green or brown sea-wrack, about which the tide eddied
+and played, now hiding, now revealing for some crested wave to pounce
+upon as a sea monster might upon its prey.  The dark slaty rocks
+displayed their wreaths of ivy, and the masses of granite stood up piled
+in courses of huge cubes, as if by titanic hands, grey with parched
+moss, dull and dead-looking; and then all at once, as the sun slowly
+rose above the sea, glorious in God's light, sparkling as if set with
+myriads of gems, the grey became gold, and all around there was a scene
+of beauty such as no painter could do more than suggest.  Everything was
+glorified by the rising sun; sea, sky, the distant houses, and shipping,
+all gleamed as if of burnished gold--all was of supreme beauty in the
+birth of that new day.  No, not all: here and there, slowly using their
+oars as they scanned sea and rock, sat a crew of haggard men, while back
+on the golden point clustered a crowd watching their efforts, and
+hanging back with natural kindly delicacy from the group of three at the
+extreme edge of the granite point--two pale-faced, grey, wild-eyed men,
+and the girl who sat crouching on a fragment of rock, her hair loose,
+her hands clasped round her knees, and a look of agonised sorrow in the
+piteous drawn face, ever directed towards the east.
+
+"They're all coming back," said some one close at hand.
+
+The man was right; slowly one by one the boats crept over the glorious
+sea towards the harbour, Duncan Leslie's last.
+
+"Nothing?" said Uncle Luke in a low whisper as the coastguard boat was
+backed toward the point, and the detective sprang ashore.
+
+"Nothing, sir.  Poor foolish, misguided lad!  Might have been my boy,
+sir.  I've only done my duty; but this is a dark night's work I shall
+never forget.  I feel as if I were answerable for his death."
+
+Ten minutes later Duncan Leslie landed in the same way, and laid his
+hand upon Uncle Luke's arm.
+
+"I was obliged to come back," he said; "my men are fagged out."
+
+"No signs of him!"
+
+Leslie shook his head and spoke in a whisper.
+
+"I'll be off again as soon as I can get a fresh crew, and search till I
+do find him.  For Heaven's sake, sir, take them home!"
+
+It was a kindly whisper, but Louise heard every word, and shuddered as
+she turned and hid her face in her father's breast.  For she knew what
+it meant; it was to spare her the agonising sight, when the sea,
+according to its wont, threw something up yonder among the rugged
+stones, where, to use the fishermen's words, the current bit hardest on
+the shore.  She fought hard to keep back the wild cry that struggled in
+her breast; but it was in vain, and many a rough fellow turned aside as
+he heard the poor girl's piteous wail out there in the sunshine of that
+glorious morn.
+
+"Harry! brother! what shall I do?"  George Vine's lips parted as he bent
+down over his child.  "The Lord gave, and--"
+
+His voice failed, but his lips completed poor old stricken Job's words,
+and there was a pause.  Then he seemed to draw himself up, and held out
+his hand for a moment to Duncan Leslie.
+
+"Luke!" he said then calmly and gravely.  "Your arm too.  Let us go
+home."
+
+The little crowd parted left and right, and every hat was doffed in the
+midst of a great silence, as the two old men walked slowly up the rough
+pier, supporting the stricken girl.
+
+Duncan Leslie followed, and as they passed on through the narrow lane of
+humble, sympathising people of the port, these turned in and slowly
+followed, two and two, bareheaded, as if it were a funeral procession.
+
+Just then, high above the top of the grand cliff, a lark soared up,
+sprinkling the air as from a censer of sound, with his silvery notes
+joyous, loud, and thrilling; and one patriarchal fisherman, who had seen
+many a scene of sorrow in his time, whispered to the mate walking at his
+side--
+
+"Ay, lad, and so it is; midst of life we are in death."
+
+"Ah," sighed his companion; "but on such a morn as this!"
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XIV.
+
+AT THE GRANITE HOUSE.
+
+The Vines had hardly reached their home when quietly and in a furtive
+way boat after boat put off down the harbour, from the little punt
+belonging to some lugger, right up to the heavy fishing-craft, rowed by
+six or eight men.  There was no communication one with the other; no
+general order had been issued, but, with one consent, all were bent upon
+the same mission, and hour after hour, every mass of weedy rock, chasm,
+hollow, and zorn was scanned, where it was known that the current was
+likely to throw up that which it had engulfed; but, though every inch of
+shore was searched, the task proved to be without avail, and the
+brothers, seated together in the quaint, old-fashioned dining-room,
+waiting to be summoned for the reception of their dead, sat waiting, and
+without receiving the call.
+
+Louise had refused to leave them, and had clung to her father, asking to
+be allowed to stay; but no sooner was the consent obtained than it
+proved to be useless, for the poor girl was completely prostrated by the
+excitement and horror of the past night, and had to be helped up to her
+couch.
+
+And there the brothers sat in silence, George Vine calm, stern, and with
+every nerve on the strain; Uncle Luke watching him furtively without
+attempting to speak.
+
+When any words had passed between the brothers, the old cynic's voice
+sounded less harsh, and its tones were sympathetic, as he strove to be
+consolatory to the suffering man.  They had been seated some time
+together in silence, when Uncle Luke rose, and laid his hand upon his
+brother's shoulder.
+
+"I don't know what to say to you, George," he whispered softly.  "For
+all these years past I've been, what you know, a childless, selfish man;
+but I feel for you, my lad--I feel for you, and I'd bear half your
+agony, if I could."
+
+George Vine turned upon him with a piteous smile, and took the hand
+resting on his shoulder.
+
+"You need not speak, Luke," he said sadly.  "Do you think we have lived
+all these years without my understanding my brother, and knowing what he
+is at heart?"
+
+Luke shook his head, gripped the hand which held his firmly, but could
+not speak.
+
+"I am going to bear it like a man, please God; but it is hard, Luke,
+hard; and but for poor Louise's sake I could wish that my journey was
+done."
+
+"No, no; no, no, George," said the brother huskily.  "There is, lad,
+much to do here yet--for you, my boy--for Louise--that poor, half-crazy
+woman up-stairs, and Uncle Luke, who is not much better, so they say.
+No, my boy, you must fight--you must bear, and bear it bravely, as you
+will, as soon as this first shock is over, and there's always hope--
+always hope.  The poor boy may have escaped."
+
+"Ay, to where?  Luke, brother, for Heaven's sake let me be in peace.  I
+cannot bear to speak now.  I feel as if the strain is too great for my
+poor brain."
+
+Luke pressed his hand, and walked slowly to the window, from whence he
+could gaze down at the boats going; and coming into the harbour; and he
+shuddered as he thought what any one of them might bring.
+
+"Better it should, and at once," he said to himself.  "He'll know no
+rest until that is past."
+
+He turned and looked in wonder at the door, which opened then, and Aunt
+Marguerite, dressed in one of her stiffest brocades, pale, but with her
+eyes stern and fierce, entered the room, to sweep slowly across, till
+she was opposite to George Vine, when she crossed her arms over her
+breast, and began to beat her shoulder with her large ivory fan, the
+thin leaves making a peculiar pattering noise against her whalebone
+stiffened bodice.
+
+"Don't talk to him, Margaret," said Uncle Luke, coming forward.  "He is
+not fit.  Say what you have to say another time."
+
+"Silence! you poor weak imbecile!" she cried, as her eyes flashed at
+him.  "What do you do here at a time like this?  Now," she continued,
+darting a vindictive look at her broken-hearted brother, "what have you
+to say?"
+
+"To say, Margaret?" he replied piteously.  "God help me, what can I
+say?"
+
+"Nothing, miserable that you are.  The judgment has come upon you at
+last.  Have I not striven to save that poor murdered boy from you--to
+raise him from the slough into which you plunged him in your wretched
+degradation.  Time after time I have raised my voice, but it has been
+unheard.  I have been treated as your wretched dependant, who could not
+even say her soul was her own, and with my heart bleeding, I have
+seen--"
+
+"Margaret, you were always crazy," cried Uncle Luke fiercely; "are you
+raving mad?"
+
+"Yes," she cried.  "Worm, pitiful crawling worm.  You are my brother by
+birth, but what have I seen of you but your wretched selfish life--of
+you who sold your birthright to sink into the degraded creature you are,
+so degraded that you side with this man against me, now that he is
+worthily punished for his crime against his son."
+
+"I cannot listen to this," cried Uncle Luke furiously.
+
+"Let her speak," said George Vine sadly; "she thinks she is right."
+
+"And so do you," cried Aunt Marguerite.  "If you had kept the poor boy a
+gentleman all this would not have happened.  See to what extent you have
+driven the poor, brave-hearted, noble boy, the only true Des Vignes.
+You, degenerate creature that you are, maddened him by the life you
+forced him to lead, till in sheer recklessness he took this money,
+struck down the tyrant to whom you made him slave, and at last caused
+him to be hunted down till, with the daring of a Des Vignes, he turned,
+and died like one of his chivalrous ancestors, his face to his foes,
+his--"
+
+"Bah!" cried Uncle Luke, with a fierce snarl, "his chivalrous
+ancestors!"
+
+"Luke!"
+
+"I tell you, George, I'm sick of the miserable cant.  Died like a hero!
+Woman, it was your miserable teaching made him the discontented wretch
+he was."
+
+"For pity's sake, Luke."
+
+"I must speak now," cried the old man furiously; "it's time she knew the
+truth; but for you, who, in return for the shelter of your brother's
+roof, filled the boy's head with your vain folly, he would have been a
+respectable member of society, an honest Englishman, instead of a
+would-be murderer and thief."
+
+"It is false!" cried Aunt Marguerite.
+
+"It is true!" thundered the old man, in spite of his brother's imploring
+looks; "true, and you know it's true.  Died like a hero, with his face
+to the foe!  He died, if he be dead, like a coward, afraid to face the
+officer of the law he had outraged--a disgrace to the name of Vine."
+
+Aunt Marguerite stood gazing at him, as if trying to stay him with the
+lightning of her eyes, but his burst of passion was at an end, and he
+did not even realise that her vindictive looks had faded out, and that
+she had grown ghastly as a sheet, and tottered half palsied from the
+room.
+
+For, horrified by the agony he read in his brother's face, Luke Vine had
+seized his hands, and was gazing imploringly at him.
+
+"Forgive me, George," he whispered.  "I knew not what I said."
+
+"Let me be alone--for a while," faltered his brother.  "I am weak.  I
+cannot bear it now."
+
+But the strain was not yet at an end, for at that moment there was a tap
+at the door, and Liza entered, looking red-eyed and strange; and a sob
+escaped her as she saw her master's face.
+
+"A gentleman to see you, sir.  He must see you at once," she stammered.
+
+"If you please, Mr Vine," said a short, stern voice, and, without
+further ceremony, the detective officer entered the room.
+
+George Vine rose painfully, and tried to cross where the man stood
+inside the door, looking sharply from one to the other.
+
+"No," he said inaudibly, as his eyes seemed to grasp everything;
+"they're honest.  Don't know where he is."
+
+George Vine did not cross to the officer; his strength seemed to fail
+him.
+
+"You have come," he said slowly, as he tried to master a piteous sigh.
+"Luke, you will come with me?"
+
+"Yes, lad, I'll come," said Uncle Luke.  Then turning towards the
+officer, he whispered, "Where did you find the poor lad?"
+
+"You are labouring under a mistake, sir," said the man.  "We have not
+found him--yet.  My people are searching still, and half the fishermen
+are out in their boats, but they say it is not likely that they will
+find him till after a tide or two, when he will be cast ashore."
+
+The words sounded hard and brutal, and Luke gave the speaker a furious
+look as he saw his brother wince.
+
+"Why have you come here, then?" said Uncle Luke, harshly.  "Do you think
+he has not suffered enough?"
+
+The officer made no reply, but stood, notebook in hand, thinking.  Then
+sharply:
+
+"A person named Pradelle has been staying here."
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Luke, with a snap of his teeth; "and if you had taken
+him instead of hunting down our poor boy you would have done some good."
+
+"All in good time, sir.  I expect he was at the bottom of it all.  Have
+you any information you can give me as to where he is likely to have
+gone?"
+
+"Where do all scoundrels and thieves go to hide?  London, I suppose."
+
+"I expected that," said the officer, talking to Uncle Luke, but watching
+George Vine's drawn, grief-stricken face the while.  "I dare say we
+shall be able to put a finger upon him before long.  He does not seem to
+have a very good record, and yet you gentlemen appear to have given him
+a welcome here."
+
+George Vine made a deprecating movement with his hands, the detective
+watching him keenly the while, and evidently hesitating over something
+he had to say.
+
+"And now, sir," said Uncle Luke, "you'll excuse me if I ask you to go.
+This is not a time for cross-examination."
+
+"Eh? perhaps not," said the officer sharply, as he gave the old man a
+resentful glance.  Then to himself, "Well--it's duty.  He had no
+business to.  I've no time for fine feelings."
+
+"At another time," continued Uncle Luke, "if you will come to me, I dare
+say I can give you whatever information you require."
+
+"Oh, you may rest easy about that, sir," said the officer, half
+laughingly, "don't you be afraid.  But I want a few words now with this
+other gentleman."
+
+"And I say no; you shall not torture him now," cried Uncle Luke angrily.
+"He has suffered enough."
+
+"Don't you interfere, sir, till you are called upon," said the officer
+roughly.  "Now, Mr George Vine, if you please."
+
+"I will not have it," cried Uncle Luke; "it is an outrage."
+
+"Let him speak, brother," said George Vine, with calm dignity.  "Now,
+sir, go."
+
+"I will, sir.  It's a painful duty, but it is a duty.  Now, sir, I came
+here with a properly signed warrant for the arrest of Henry Vine, for
+robbery and attempted murder."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Vine, with his brow wrinkling.
+
+"The young man would have resigned himself quietly, but you incited him
+to resist the law and escape."
+
+"It is quite true.  I have sinned, sir," said Vine, in a low pained
+voice, "and I am ready to answer for what I have done."
+
+"But that is not all," continued the officer.  "Not content with aiding
+my prisoner to escape, you attacked me, sir, and twice over you struck
+me in the execution of my duty."
+
+"Is this true, George?" cried Uncle Luke, excitedly.
+
+"Yes," said his brother, calmly bending to this new storm: "yes, it is
+quite true."
+
+"Well, sir, what have you to say?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"You know, I suppose, that it is the duty of every citizen to help the
+officers of the law?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And yet you not only fought against me, but struck me heavily.  I have
+the marks."
+
+"Yes; I own to it all."
+
+"And you know that it is a very serious offence?"
+
+"Yes," said the wretched man; and he sank into the nearest chair,
+looking straight before him into vacancy.
+
+"Well, sir," said the officer sharply, "I'm glad you know the
+consequences."  Then turning sharply on Uncle Luke, who stood biting his
+lips in an excited manner, "Perhaps you'll come into the next room with
+me, sir.  I should like a few words with you."
+
+Uncle Luke scowled at him, as he led the way into the drawing-room, and
+shut the door angrily.
+
+"Now, sir," he began fiercely, "let me--"
+
+"Hold hard, old gentleman!" said the officer; "don't be so excitable.  I
+want a few words, and then, for goodness' sake, give me a glass of wine
+and a biscuit.  I've touched nothing since I came here last night."
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke, furiously; but the man went on--
+
+"Of course it's a serious thing striking an officer; let alone the pain,
+there's the degradation, for people know of it.  I'm sore at losing my
+prisoner, and if he had not held me I should have had the young fellow
+safe, and that horrible accident wouldn't have happened."
+
+"And now what are you going to do?" snarled Uncle Luke; "drag him off to
+gaol?"
+
+"Going to act like a man, sir.  Think I'm such a brute?  Poor old
+fellow, I felt quite cut, hard as I am, and I'd have asked him to shake
+hands over it, only he couldn't have taken it kindly from me.  You seem
+a man of the world, sir.  He's one of those dreamy sort of naturalist
+fellows.  Tell him from me I'd have given anything sooner than all this
+should have happened.  It was my duty to see him about his resistance to
+the law.  But, poor old fellow, he was doing his natural duty in defence
+of his boy, just as I felt that I was doing mine."
+
+Uncle Luke did not speak, but stood holding out his hand.  The officer
+gripped it eagerly, and they two stood gazing in each other's faces for
+a few moments.
+
+"Thank you," said Uncle Luke gently; and after a time the officer rose
+to go.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said, at parting, "I shall stay down here till the poor
+boy is found.  Some one in town will be on the look-out for our friend
+Pradelle, for, unless I'm very much mistaken, he's the monkey who
+handled the cat's paws.  Good morning."
+
+Uncle Luke stood at the door watching the officer till he was out of
+sight, and then returned to the old dining-room, to find his brother
+still gazing into vacancy, just as he had been left.
+
+"News, Luke?" he said, as he looked eagerly.  "No, you need not speak.
+Perhaps it is better so.  Better death than this terrible dishonour."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XV.
+
+GEORGE VINE ASKS FOR HELP.
+
+"She shall go.  I always knew she was a thief," said Aunt Marguerite, as
+she stood by her open window, listening to a whispered communication
+going on.  "Wait till Louise can act like a woman, and see to her
+housekeeping again, and that girl shall go."
+
+She listened again, and could hear a rough woman's voice urging
+something, while the more familiar voice of Liza was raised again and
+again in a whispered protest.
+
+Then followed more talking, and at last there was a pause, followed by a
+hasty whisper, and the heavy step of old Poll Perrow, with her basket on
+her back, supported by the strap across her brow.  Aunt Marguerite had
+been to her niece's door again and again, and tried it to find it
+fastened; and she could get no response to her taps and calls.  She
+seemed to feel no sorrow, only rage against all by whom she was
+surrounded; and, isolated as it were, she spent the afternoon going to
+and fro between her own room and one which gave her a good view of the
+harbour mouth with boats going and returning; for the search for the
+body of Harry Vine was kept up without cessation, the fishermen lending
+themselves willingly to the task, and submitting, but with an ill grace,
+to the presence of the police.
+
+Aunt Marguerite, however, in spite of her vindictive feeling, suffered
+intense grief; and her sorrow seemed to deepen the lines in her handsome
+old face.
+
+"They've murdered him, they've murdered him!" she kept on muttering as
+she watched the passing boats.  "Nne understood him but me."
+
+She drew back sharply from the window, for just then a closely-veiled
+figure came hurriedly into view, her goal being evidently the old
+granite house.
+
+Aunt Marguerite's eyes sparkled with vindictive malice.
+
+"Yes," she said, half aloud; "and you too, madam--you had your share in
+the poor boy's death.  Oh! how I do hate your wretched Dutch race."
+
+She crossed to the door, and opened it slightly, to stand listening, to
+hear voices a few minutes later, and then steps on the stairs, which
+stopped, after a good deal of whispering, at her niece's door, after
+which there was a low tapping, and Liza's voice arose:
+
+"Miss Louise!  Miss Louise!"
+
+"Yes, knock again.  She will not answer.  One of them has some pride
+left."
+
+"Miss Louise, Miss Louise, you're wanted, please."
+
+There was no reply, nor yet to repeated knocks.  There was a smile of
+satisfaction on Aunt Marguerite's face as she drew herself up, and
+opened her fan as if at some presentation, or about to dismiss an
+intruder; but her countenance changed directly, and, forgetting her
+dignity, she craned forward, for all at once a pleading voice arose.
+
+"Louise, Louise, for pity's sake let me in."
+
+There was a short pause, and then the sharp sound of the shooting back
+of a bolt and the creaking of a door.  Then it was closed again, and as
+the listener threw her own open there came the faint sound of a
+passionate cry and a low sobbing.
+
+Aunt Marguerite stepped out into the passage, her head erect, and her
+stiff silk trailing noisily behind her, to go to her own room, but the
+way was barred by the presence of Liza, who was down on the floor
+crouched in a heap, sobbing passionately, with her apron up to her eyes.
+
+"Get up!" said Aunt Marguerite imperiously, as she struck at the girl's
+hand with her fan.
+
+Liza leaped to her feet, looked aghast at the figure before her, and
+fled, while Aunt Marguerite strode into her room, and loudly closed the
+door.  As she passed her niece's chamber, Louise was clasped tightly in
+Madelaine's arms, and it was long before the two girls were seated, hand
+in hand, gazing wonderingly at the inroads made so soon by grief.
+
+"It is so horrible--all so horrible," whispered Madelaine at last, for
+the silence was for long unbroken, save by an occasional sob.  Louise
+looked at her wildly, and then burst into a passion of tears.
+
+"Maddy!" she cried at last, "is it all true?"
+
+They could say no more, but sat gathering comfort from the sympathetic
+grasp of each other's hands.
+
+At last, in a dull heavy way, the words came, each sounding as if the
+speaker were in despair, but willing to suffer so that her companion
+might be spared, and by degrees Louise learned that Van Heldre still lay
+in the same insensible state, the awaking from which Madelaine shrank
+from with horror, lest it should mean the return for a brief time of
+sense before the great final change.
+
+"I could not come to you," said Louise, after a long silence, as she
+gazed wistfully in her friend's face, "and thought we should never meet
+again as friends."
+
+"You should have known me better," replied Madelaine.  "It is very
+terrible, such a--such a--oh, Louie, dearest, there must have been some
+mistake.  Harry--Harry could not have been so base."
+
+Louise was silent for a time.  At last she spoke.
+
+"There must be times," she said gently, "when even the best of us are
+not answerable for our actions.  He must have been mad.  It was when,
+too--he had--promised--he had told me--that in the future--oh," she
+cried, shuddering, as she covered her face with her hands, "it can't be
+true--it cannot be true."
+
+Again there was a long silence in the room, whose drawn-down blind
+turned the light of a sickly yellow hue.  But the window was open, and
+from time to time the soft sea breeze wafted the blind inward, and a
+bright ray of sunny light streamed in like hope across the two bent
+forms.
+
+"I must not stay long," said Madelaine.  "I shiver whenever I am away,
+lest--"
+
+"No, no," cried Louise, passionately, as she strained her friend to her
+breast, "we will not despond yet.  All this comes across our lives like
+a dense black cloud, and there must be a great change in the future.
+Your father will recover."
+
+"I pray that he may," said Madelaine.
+
+"And I will not believe that Harry is--dead."
+
+"I pray that he may be alive, Louie, to come some time in the future to
+ask forgiveness of my father.  For I did love him, Louie; at first as a
+sister might the brother with whom she had played from childhood, and of
+late in sorrow and anguish, as the woman whom he had always said he
+loved.  I fought with it, oh, so hard, but the love was there, and even
+when I was most hard and cold--"
+
+"And he believed you cared for Mr Leslie."
+
+The words slipped from Louise Vine's lips like an escaped thought, and
+the moment they were spoken, she shrank away with her pale cheeks
+crimsoning, and she gazed guiltily at her companion.
+
+"It was a foolish fancy on his part," said Madelaine gravely.  "I cannot
+blame myself for anything I ever said or did to your brother.  If I had
+been wrong, my lapse would have come upon me now like the lash of a
+whip; but in the long hours of my watches by my poor father's bed, I
+have gone over it again and again, and I cannot feel that I have been
+wrong."
+
+Louise drew her more closely to her breast.
+
+"Maddy," she whispered, "years will have to pass, and we must separate.
+The pleasant old days must end, but some day, when all these horrors
+have been softened by time, we may call each other sister again, and in
+the long dark interval you will not forget."
+
+"Forget!" said Madelaine, with a smile full of sadness.  "You know that
+we shall always be unchanged."
+
+"Going--so soon?" exclaimed Louise, for her friend had risen.
+
+"He is lying yonder," said Madelaine.  "I must go back.  I could not
+stay away long from you, though, without a word."
+
+They stood for a few moments clasped in each other's arms, and then in a
+slow, sad way went hand in hand towards the door.  As she opened it for
+her friend to pass through, Louise shrank back from the burst of
+sunshine that flooded the passage, and placed her hand across her eyes.
+It was a momentary act, and then she drew a long breath and followed her
+friend, as if her example had given the needed strength, and acted as an
+impetus to raise her from the lethargic state into which she had fallen.
+
+In this spirit she went down with her to the door, when, as their steps
+sounded on the hall floor, the dining-room door was thrown open quickly,
+and Vine stood in the darkened opening, gazing wildly at the veiled
+figure of Madelaine.
+
+"Van Heldre?" he said, in an excited whisper; "not--not--" He could not
+finish his speech, but stood with his hand pressed to his throat.
+
+"My father's state is still unchanged," said Madelaine gently.
+
+"Then there may yet be hope, there may yet be hope," said Vine hoarsely
+as he shrank once more into the darkened room.
+
+"Mr Vine," said Madelaine piteously, as she stood with extended hands
+asking sympathy in her grievous trouble.
+
+"My child!" he cried, as he caught her to his breast, and she clung
+there sobbing bitterly.  Then he softly disengaged her hands from his
+neck.  "No, no," he said dreamily, "I am guilty too; I must never take
+you to my heart again."
+
+"What have I done?" sobbed Madelaine, as she clung to him still.
+
+"You?" he said fondly.  "Ah! it was once my dream that you would be more
+and more my child.  Little Madelaine!"
+
+He drew her to his breast again, kissed her with spasmodic eagerness,
+and then held out a hand to Louise, who flew to his breast as with an
+angry, malicious look, Aunt Marguerite advanced to the end of the
+landing and looked down at the sobbing group.
+
+"Good-bye!" whispered the stricken man hoarsely, "good-bye, my child.  I
+am weak and helpless.  I hardly know what I say; but you must come here
+no more.  Good-bye."
+
+He turned from them hastily, and glided back into the darkened room,
+where Louise followed him, as Madelaine went slowly down toward the
+town.
+
+Vine was seated before the empty grate, his head resting on his hand, as
+Louise went to his side, and he started as if from a dream when she
+touched his shoulder.
+
+"You, my child?" he said, sinking back.  "Ah! stay with me--pray with
+me.  It is so hard to bear alone."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XVI.
+
+THE OLD WATCH-DOG.
+
+The silence as if of death reigned for days and days at Van Heldre's
+house, which, unasked, old Crampton had made his residence.  In a quiet
+furtive way he had taken possession of the inner office, to which he had
+brought from his own house a sofa-cushion and pillow, carrying them
+there one dark night unseen, and at times, no doubt, he must have lain
+down and slept; but to all there it was a mystery when he did take his
+rest.
+
+If Mrs Van Heldre called him to partake of a meal he came.  If he was
+forgotten he ate one of a store of captain's biscuits which he kept in
+his desk along with his very strong tobacco, which flavoured the said
+biscuits in a way that, being a regular smoker, he did not notice, while
+at ten o'clock he regularly went out into the yard to have his pipe.  He
+was always ready to sit up and watch, but, to his great annoyance, he
+had few opportunities, the task being shared between Madelaine and her
+mother.
+
+As to the business of the office, that went on as usual as far as the
+regular routine was concerned, everything fresh being put back till the
+principal resumed his place at his desk.  Bills of lading, the
+smelting-house accounts, bank deposits, and the rest, all were attended
+to, just as if Van Heldre had been there instead of lying above between
+life and death.  From time to time Mrs Van Heldre came down to him to
+beg that he would ask for everything he wanted.
+
+"I cannot help neglecting you, Mr Crampton," she said, with her hands
+playing about the buttons of her dress.
+
+"Never you mind about me, ma'am," he said, admonishing her with a
+penholder.  "I'm all right, and waiting to take my turn."
+
+"Yes, yes, you're very good, Mr Crampton, and you will see that
+everything goes on right, so that when he comes down he may find that we
+have not neglected any single thing."
+
+Crampton frowned, but his face grew smooth again as he looked at the
+little anxious countenance before him.
+
+"Don't you be afraid, ma'am.  If Mr Van Heldre came down to-day
+everything is ready for him--everything."
+
+"Yes, of course, Mr Crampton.  I might have known it.  But I can't help
+feeling anxious and worried about things."
+
+"Naturally, ma'am, naturally; and I've been trying to take all worry
+away from you about the business.  Everything is quite right.  Ah!" he
+said as the little woman hurried away from the office, "if Miss Maddy
+would only talk to me like that.  But she won't forgive me, and I
+suppose she never will."  He made an entry and screwed up his lips, as
+he dipped a pen in red ink and ruled a couple of lines, using the ebony
+ruler which had laid his master low.  "Poor girl!  I never understood
+these things; but they say love makes people blind and contrary, and so
+it is that she seems to hate me, a man who wouldn't rob her father of a
+penny, and in her quiet hiding sort of way worships the man who robbed
+him of five hundred pounds, and nearly killed him as well.  Ah! it's a
+curious world."
+
+"I've--I've brought you a glass of wine and a few biscuits, Mr
+Crampton," said Mrs Van Heldre, entering and speaking in her pleasant
+prattling way.  Then she set down a tray, and hurried out before he
+could utter his thanks.
+
+"Good little woman," said Crampton.  "Some people would have brought a
+glass of wine and not the decanter.  Well, yes, ma'am, I will have a
+glass of wine, for I feel beat out."
+
+He poured out a glass of good old sherry, held it up to the light, and
+closed one eye.
+
+"Your health, Mr Van Heldre," he said solemnly.  "Best thing I can wish
+you.  Yours, Mrs Van Heldre, and may you never be a widow.  Miss
+Madelaine, your health, my dear, and may your eyes be opened.  I'm not
+such a bad man as you think."
+
+He drank the glass of wine, and then made a grimace.
+
+"Sweet biscuits," he said, "only fit for children.  Hah, well!  Eh?
+What's the matter?"
+
+He had heard a cry, and hurrying across the office, he locked the door,
+and ran down the glass corridor to the house.
+
+"Worse, ma'am, worse?" he cried, as Mrs Van Heldre came running down
+the stairs and into the dining-room, where she plumped herself on the
+floor, and held her hands to her lips to keep back the hysterical sobs
+which struggled for vent.
+
+"Shall I run for the doctor, ma'am?"
+
+"No, no!" cried Mrs Van Heldre, in a stifled voice, with her mouth
+still covered.  "Better."
+
+"Better?"
+
+She nodded violently.
+
+"Then it was very cruel of you, ma'am," said the old man plaintively.
+"I thought--I thought--"
+
+Crampton said no more, but he walked to the window with his face buried
+in his great yellow silk handkerchief, blowing his nose with a
+continuity and force which became at last so unbearable that Mrs Van
+Heldre went out into the hall.
+
+She went back soon into the dining-room, where Crampton was waiting
+anxiously.
+
+"He looked at me when I was in the room with my darling child, Mr
+Crampton, and his lips parted, and he spoke to me, and I was obliged to
+come away for fear I should do him harm."
+
+"Come away, ma'am! and at a time like that!" said Crampton, angrily.
+
+Mrs Van Heldre drew herself up with dignity.
+
+"My child signed to me to go," she said quietly; and then with her eyes
+brimming over with tears, "Do you think I would not have given the world
+to stay?"
+
+At that moment Madelaine came quickly and softly into the room.
+
+"He is sleeping," she whispered excitedly; "he looked at me and smiled,
+and then his eyes closed and he seemed to go into a calm sleep, not that
+terrible stupor, but sleep.  Mother, come and see--it must be sleep."
+
+Old Crampton was left alone to begin pacing the room excitedly for a few
+minutes, when Madelaine came down once more.
+
+"Pray go for Dr Knatchbull!" she cried piteously.
+
+"But isn't he--"
+
+"We do not know--we are afraid to hope--pray, pray go."
+
+"She hasn't spoken so gently since that night," muttered Crampton, as he
+hurried down the street.  "Poor girl! it is very hard; and this may be
+only the change before--No, I won't think that," cried the old clerk,
+and he broke into a run.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XVII.
+
+CRAMPTON REPORTS PROGRESS.
+
+"Yes," said Dr Knatchbull, confidently; "he will get over it, now.
+Can't say," he said, rubbing his hands in his satisfaction, "whether
+it's the doctor's physic, or the patient's physique, but one of them has
+worked wonders.  What do you say, Miss Van Heldre?"
+
+"That we can never be sufficiently grateful to you."
+
+"Never," cried Mrs Van Heldre, wringing his hand.
+
+"Bah!" exclaimed the doctor, "that's what you people say now that you
+have got to the turn; but by and by when I send in my bill--and I mean
+to make this a pretty stiff one, Mrs Van Heldre--you will all be as
+grumpy as possible, and think it a terrible overcharge."
+
+"Well, really, Dr Knatchbull," began Mrs Van Heldre, ruffling up like
+an aggravated hen, "I am quite sure my clear husband will pay any--"
+
+"Mamma, mamma, dear!" cried Madelaine, smiling through her tears; "can
+you not see that Dr Knatchbull is laughing at us?"
+
+"No, my dear," said the little lady angrily; "but if he is, I must say
+that it is too serious a matter for a joke."
+
+"So it is, my dear madam," said the doctor, taking her hand, "far too
+serious; but I felt in such high spirits to find that we have won the
+fight, that I was ready to talk any nonsense.  All the same though, with
+some people it's as true as true."
+
+"Yes, but we are not some people," said Mrs Van Heldre.  "But now tell
+us what we are to do."
+
+"Nothing, my dear madam, but let him have rest and peace."
+
+"But he has been asking for Mr Crampton this morning, and that means
+business."
+
+"Well, let him see him to-morrow, if he asks.  If he is not allowed, he
+will fidget, and that will do him more harm than seeing him, only I
+would not let him dwell on the attack.  Divert his attention all you
+can, and keep from him all you possibly can about the Vines."
+
+John Van Heldre did not ask for his confidential clerk for two days
+more, the greater part of which time he spent in sleep; but in the
+intervals he talked in a low voice to his wife or Madelaine, not even
+alluding once, to their great surprise, to the cause of his illness.
+
+"He must know it, mamma," said Madelaine, sadly; "and he is silent, so
+as to spare me."
+
+At last the demand for Crampton was made, and the old clerk heard it
+looking eager and pleased.
+
+"At last, ma'am," said Crampton, rubbing his hands.
+
+"You'll go up very quietly, Mr Crampton," said Mrs Van Heldre.  "If
+you would not mind."
+
+She pointed to a pair of slippers she had laid ready.  The old clerk
+looked grim, muttered something about the points of his toes, and ended
+by untying his shoes, and putting on the slippers.
+
+Madelaine was quite right, for no sooner had Van Heldre motioned the
+clerk to a chair by the bed's head, learned that all was right in his
+office, and assured the old man that he was a-mending fast, than he
+opened upon him regarding the attack that night.
+
+"Was that money taken?" he said quickly.
+
+"Is it right for you to begin talking about that so soon?" replied
+Crampton.
+
+"Unless you want me to go backwards, yes," said his employer, sharply.
+"There, answer my questions.  I have nothing the matter now; only weak,
+and I cannot ask any one else."
+
+"I'm your servant, Mr Van Heldre," said Crampton, stiffly.  "Go, sir."
+
+"That money, then?"
+
+"Gone, sir, every note.  Five hundred pounds."
+
+"Dead loss," said Van Heldre; "but it must be repaid."
+
+"Humph! pretty opinion you seem to have of me, sir, as a confidential
+clerk."
+
+"What do you mean, Crampton?"
+
+"Mean, sir?  Why, that I did my duty, and stopped every note at the bank
+of England of course."
+
+"You did that, Crampton?"
+
+"Yes, sir; and those notes are of no use to anybody."
+
+"Capital.  Hah! that's better.  Five hundred just coming on the other
+misfortune worried me.  Why, Crampton, that's a white paper plaister for
+my sore head."
+
+"Glad you're satisfied, sir."
+
+"More than satisfied.  Now tell me: have the police any notion who
+committed the robbery?"
+
+Crampton nodded.
+
+"Do you know?"
+
+Crampton looked at his employer curiously, and nodded again.
+
+"Have they taken any one?"
+
+"No, sir," said the old man sadly.
+
+"Hah!  That's bad.  Who was it?"
+
+"Well, sir, you know of course?"
+
+"I?  No!"
+
+"You don't know, sir?"
+
+"I have no idea, Crampton.  I heard a noise, and went in and surprised
+the scoundrel, but it was quite dark, and as I tried to seize him I was
+struck down."
+
+"And you mean to assure me, sir, that you don't know who it was?"
+
+"I have not the most remote idea."
+
+"Well then, sir, I must tell you it was him who had been robbing you
+ever since the first day he came to us."
+
+"Robbing me?"
+
+"Well, not exactly of money in hard cash but of your time, which is just
+the same.  Time's money.  Always an hour late."
+
+Van Heldre turned upon him fiercely.
+
+"Crampton, can you let your prejudice go so far as to suspect that young
+man?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I can...  Suspect?  No, I am sure.  I doubted him from the
+first."
+
+"It is monstrous.  You were unjust to him from the first."
+
+"I, sir?"
+
+"Yes.  But then how can a man who has never had a child be just to the
+weaknesses of the young?"
+
+"I can be just, sir, and I have been.  You don't know the supercilious
+way in which that boy treated me from the day he entered our office.
+Always late, and as soon as he was settled down to his work, in must
+come that scoundrel with the French name to ask for him, and get him
+away.  Why, Mr Van Heldre, sir, if I hadn't been a law-abiding subject
+of her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, I'd have knocked that man
+down."
+
+"Bah!" said Van Heldre impatiently, as he lay back frowning, and looking
+very thoughtful.  "I am sorry that you should have entertained such a
+suspicion about the son of my old friend."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Crampton.  "Poor Mr Vine!  It's heart-breaking work, sir.
+It is, indeed."
+
+"Heart-breaking!" said Van Heldre.  "It is atrocious.  There, I will not
+speak angrily, Crampton."
+
+"No, sir.  You must not; and now I'm going, sir.  You've talked twice as
+much as is good for you."
+
+"Sit down," said Van Heldre sternly.
+
+Crampton, who had moved towards the door, slowly resumed his place.
+
+"I am not too weak to talk about this terrible accusation.  I am not
+going to say much now, only to ask you to throw aside all this prejudice
+and to look upon the mishap as an unfortunate occurrence.  Come,
+Crampton, be a little broader.  Don't be so ready to suspect the first
+person you dislike, and then to keep obstinately to your opinion."
+
+"Better not talk any more," said Crampton shortly.
+
+"I must talk," said Van Heldre, more sternly.  "Mind this, Crampton, you
+are wrong."
+
+The care, want of rest, and anxiety had produced a state of acidity in
+the old clerk's organisation which had made him exceptionally irritable.
+
+"Wrong, eh?" he said sharply.
+
+"Yes; and I must call upon you to be careful to keep these fancies to
+yourself."
+
+"Fancies, sir?"
+
+"Yes, fancies, man.  I would not on any consideration have Mr Vine know
+that such a suspicion had existed in my office, and--"
+
+He paused for a few moments, and then held out his hand to the old
+clerk, who took it, and felt his own gripped warmly.
+
+"Come, Crampton," continued Van Heldre, smiling; "after all these years
+together, I trust we are something more than master and man.  You have
+always proved yourself a friend in the way in which you have looked
+after my interests."
+
+"I've always tried to do my duty, Mr Van Heldre."
+
+"And you always have done your duty--more than your duty.  Now just go
+quietly down, and ask Henry Vine to step up-stairs with you.  I must
+have this put straight at once.  Crampton, you and my old friend's son
+must make a fresh start."
+
+Crampton's fresh countenance grew dingy-looking, and Van Heldre felt his
+hand twitch.
+
+"Come, I tell you that your suspicious are absurd, and I must have you
+two work well together.  The young man only wants a little humouring to
+make him all that we could wish.  Go and fetch him up."
+
+"He--he is not here this morning, sir," gasped Crampton, at last.
+
+"Not here?"
+
+"No, sir," said the old man hastily; and he passed the hand at liberty
+across his face.
+
+"I am sorry.  I should have liked to settle this now it is on my mind."
+
+Crampton looked wildly towards the door, in the hope that the coming of
+wife or daughter would bring about a diversion.
+
+"Of course," said Van Heldre suddenly, "you have not shown the young man
+that you have had this idea in your head?"
+
+Crampton was silent, and as Van Heldre looked at him he saw that the
+great beads of perspiration were standing upon his face.
+
+"Why, good heavens, Crampton," he cried, "you have not breathed a word
+of all this to a soul?"
+
+The old clerk looked at him wildly.
+
+"Ah! you are keeping something back," said Van Heldre.
+
+"Hush, sir, hush!" cried the old clerk in alarm; "for goodness' sake
+don't be excited.  Think of how weak you are."
+
+"Then answer," said Van Heldre, in a low whisper.  "Tell me what you
+have done?"
+
+"I--I did everything for the best, sir."
+
+"Henry Vine!  You did not accuse him of this terrible affair?"
+
+Crampton's face grew gradually hard and stern.  His tremulous state
+passed off, and he turned as if at bay.
+
+"Crampton!  Good heavens, man!  What have you done?"
+
+"I had to think of you sir, lying here.  Of Mrs Van Heldre, sir, and of
+Miss Madelaine."
+
+"Yes, yes; but speak, man.  What have you done?"
+
+"My duty, sir."
+
+"And accused him of this--this crime?"
+
+Crampton was silent.
+
+"Are you mad?  Oh, man, man, you must have been mad."
+
+Crampton drew a long breath.
+
+"Do my wife and daughter know?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Crampton slowly.
+
+"And--and they have spoken as I speak?  They told you it was prejudice."
+
+Crampton drew a long breath once more.
+
+"Don't, pray don't say any more, sir--not now," he said at last
+pleadingly.
+
+"They--surely they don't--there, quick!  Ring that bell."
+
+"Mr Van Heldre, sir.  Pray--pray don't take it like that; I only did my
+duty by you all."
+
+"Duty!  In a fit of madness to make such a charge as this and prejudice
+others!" cried Van Heldre angrily.  "Ring that bell, man.  I cannot rest
+till this is set right."
+
+"Think, sir, how I was situated," pleaded the old clerk.  "You were
+robbed; I saw you lying, as I thought, dying, and I saw the scoundrel
+who had done all this escape.  What could I do but call in the police?"
+
+"The police!  Then it is known by every one in the place?"
+
+Crampton looked pityingly down at the anguished countenance before him.
+
+"And Henry Vine?  He refuted your charge?  Speak, man, or you will drive
+me mad."
+
+"Henry Vine did not deny the charge, sir.  He was manly enough for
+that."
+
+"Crampton, is this all true?"
+
+"It was my duty, sir."
+
+"He does not deny it?  Oh! it seems monstrous.  But you said the police;
+you gave information.  Crampton--his father--his sister--my poor child!"
+
+"Is saved from a villain, Mr Van Heldre!" cried the old clerk fiercely.
+"Better she should have died than have married such a man as he."
+
+"And I--I lying here helpless as a child," said the sick man feebly.
+"But this must all be stopped.  Crampton, you should not have done all
+this.  Now go at once, fetch George Vine here, and--Henry--the young
+man.  Where is he?"
+
+"Gone, sir, to answer for his crime," said the old man solemnly.  "Henry
+Vine is dead."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XVIII.
+
+A TITLE OF HONOUR.
+
+Duncan Leslie sought patiently and well, but he was as unsuccessful as
+the rest, and after searching from a boat and being pulled close in
+along the shore, he rose at daybreak one morning, and crossing the
+harbour, went up along the cliff away to the east, and wherever he could
+find a place possible for a descent, he lowered himself from among the
+rocks, and searched there.
+
+The work was toilsome, but it was an outlet for his pent-up energy, and
+he went on and on, reaching places where the boat could not land him;
+but even here he found that he had been forestalled, for hunting along
+among the broken rocks, he could see a figure stepping cautiously from
+crag to crag, where the waves washed in, and the slimy sea-wrack made
+the task perilous, the more so that it was the figure of a woman, whom
+he recognised as the old fish-dealer by the maund hanging on her back
+from the band across her forehead.
+
+As he toiled after her she looked round, and waited till he came up, and
+addressed him in a singing tone.
+
+"Not found him, have you, sir?"
+
+Leslie shook his head, and continued his search, seeing the old woman on
+two alternate days still peering about among the rocks, like many more,
+for the young master, and more stubborn in her search than any of the
+rest.
+
+By slow degrees the search was given up.  It had been kept up long after
+what would have been customary under the circumstances, some of the
+searchers working from sheer respect for the Vines, others toiling on in
+the hope of reward.
+
+But there was no result, and the last of the boats, that containing
+Duncan Leslie, returned to the harbour, after days of seeking to and fro
+along the coast.
+
+"I felt it were no good all along, Mr Leslie sir," said the old
+fisherman who had been chartered for the escape.  "Sea's a mystery, sir,
+and when she gets hold of a body she hides it where mortal man can't
+find it, and keeps it till she's tired, and then she throws it ashore.
+I've watched it well these thirty years, and one gets to know by
+degrees."
+
+Leslie bowed his head dejectedly.
+
+"Course I wasn't going to say so before, sir, because it's a man's dooty
+like to go seeking for what's lost; but, mark my words, sir, one o'
+these days that poor fellow will be throwed up pretty close to where he
+jumped in.  You mark my words, he will, and Poll Perrow will be the
+first to see."
+
+Leslie thought but little of the man's words then; in fact he hardly
+heard them, for in those hours his mind was full of Louise's sufferings,
+and the terrible misfortune which had come upon the homes of those two
+families so linked together, and now so torn apart.  Unsuccessful in his
+search, he was now terribly exercised in mind as to what he should do to
+help or show some sympathy for the poor girl who, in the sorrow which
+had befallen her home, seemed nearer and dearer to him than ever.
+
+It was a hard problem to solve.  He wished to show his willingness to
+help, but he felt that his presence at the Vines' could only be looked
+upon now as an intrusion, and must inflict pain.
+
+On the other hand, he was in dread lest he should be considered
+indifferent, and in this state of perplexity he betook himself to Uncle
+Luke.
+
+"Nonsense, my good fellow," said the old man quickly; "what more could
+you have done?"
+
+"I don't know," he said desolately.  "Tell me; I want to help--to serve
+you all if I can, and yet I seem to do nothing."
+
+"There is nothing that we can do," said the old man solemnly.  "Time
+must be the only cure for their trouble.  Look at me, Duncan Leslie; I
+came to live up here with the fewest of necessities--alone, without wife
+or child, to be away from trouble, and you see I have failed.  I cannot
+even help myself, so how can you expect to help them?  There, leave it
+all to time."
+
+"And your brother, how is he?"
+
+Leslie felt that he had been speaking for the sake of saying something,
+and he bit his lip, as the old man gave him a peculiar look.
+
+"How is a man likely to be who has lost a son as he has lost his?"
+
+Leslie was silent.
+
+"And now you would ask after my niece, young man, but you feel as if you
+dare not."
+
+Leslie gave him an imploring look.
+
+"Broken-hearted as her poor father, Leslie, seeing nothing in the future
+but one black cloud of misery.  There, let's go out and sit in the
+sunshine and think."
+
+Leslie followed the old man without a word.  He longed to ask his advice
+about that future, and to question him about the friend in France, for
+in spite of himself he could not help feeling a thrill of satisfaction
+at the thought that for a certainty there must be an end to that
+engagement.  No scion of a great house could enter into an alliance with
+the sister of a man whose career had ended as had ended Harry Vine's.
+
+But he could not lay bare his heart to that cynical old man, who read
+him as easily as the proverbial book, and on whose lip there was always
+lurking the germ of a sneering smile.
+
+He accompanied him then to his favourite seat among the rocks, just in
+front of his cottage, and they sat in silence for a time, Leslie hardly
+caring to start a topic lest it should evoke a sneer.
+
+"Let's go down into the town," said Uncle Luke, jumping up suddenly.
+
+Leslie rose without a word, and looked wonderingly at the old man, who,
+with his eyes shaded by his hands, was gazing along the rugged coast
+towards where, looking like dolls, a couple of fishermen were standing
+by something lying on a pebbly patch of sand.
+
+Leslie looked at Uncle Luke, but the old man avoided his gaze, as if
+unwilling to lay bare his thoughts, and together they walked pretty
+quickly down the steep slope.
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Luke; "the doctor says he will pull him through."
+
+"Mr Van Heldre?"
+
+"Yes.  Why don't you go and see him?"
+
+"I have sent to ask again and again, but I felt that any call on my part
+in the midst of such trouble would be out of place."
+
+"Walk faster," said the old man excitedly, "if you can.  No.  Let me go
+alone.  Look at them--running.  Look!"
+
+Leslie had already noted the fact, and out of respect for the old man he
+stopped short at once, with the result that Uncle Luke stopped too.
+
+"Why don't you come on?" he cried.  "Good heavens, man, what can I do
+alone?  There, there, Leslie, it's of no use, I can play the cynic no
+longer.  Man is not independent of his fellows.  I never felt more in
+need of help than I do now."
+
+Leslie took the old man's arm, and could feel that he was trembling, as
+they hurried on down towards the harbour, which they would have to cross
+by the ferry before they could reach the little crowd gathering round
+the first two men on the patch of sand.
+
+"Keep a good heart, sir," said Leslie, gently.  "It may not be after
+all."
+
+"Yes, it is--it is," groaned Uncle Luke.  "I've hung on so to the belief
+that being a clever swimmer he had managed to get away; but I might have
+known better, Leslie, I might have known better."
+
+"Let's wait first and be sure, sir."
+
+"There is no need.  I don't think I cared for the boy, Leslie; there
+were times when he made me mad with him for his puppyism; but he was my
+brother's son, and I always hoped that after a few years he would change
+and become another man."
+
+"Well, sir, let's cling to that hope yet."
+
+"No, no," said the old man gloomily.  "There is the end.  He was no
+thief, Leslie.  Believe that of him.  It was his wretched scoundrel of a
+friend, and if Harry struck down poor Van Heldre, it was in his horror
+of being taken.  He was no thief."
+
+As they reached the lowest turn of the cliff-path, the old man gripped
+Leslie's arm with spasmodic violence and stopped short, for the far side
+of the harbour lay before them, and they could see clearly all that was
+going on amid the rocks behind.
+
+"We should be too late," he said huskily.  "Your eyes are younger than
+mine.  That's the police sergeant yonder in that boat, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Uncle Luke stood motionless, watching, and they could see that a boat
+rowed out from the harbour had gone on, and put in just opposite to the
+patch of the sand where that remote something had been cast up by the
+sea.  To have carried it would have meant the use of a boat at the
+little ferry, and it was evident that the sergeant had decided to bring
+the sad flotsam and jetsam round to the harbour steps.
+
+Leslie felt the old man's arm tremble, and his efforts to be firm, as
+they stood and watched the boat put off again, after a few minutes'
+delay.  Then the little crowd which had collected came slowly back over
+the rugged shore till they reached the eastern arm of the harbour just
+as the boat was coming in, and a piece of sail spread in the stern
+sheets told but too plainly the nature of her load.
+
+"Mr Luke Vine," said Leslie.
+
+"Yes," cried the old man, starting and speaking in a harsh way, as if
+suddenly brought back to the present.
+
+"Will you let me make a suggestion?"
+
+The old man only stared hard at him.
+
+"Let me spare you this painful scene.  It may not be as you think, and
+if it is not, it will be a shock; but if--there, let me go, and if it
+prove to be according to your fears, let me send you word by a trusty
+messenger, and you can then go up to your brother's house and break the
+terrible news as gently as you can."
+
+Uncle Luke shook his head and began to descend the slope, timing his
+speed so as to reach the harbour steps at the same time as the boat.
+
+There was a crowd waiting, but the people parted respectfully to allow
+the old man and his companion to pass, and the next minute Uncle Luke
+was questioning the sergeant with his eyes.
+
+The man stepped ashore, and gave an order or two which sent a constable
+off at a trot, and another policeman took his post at the head of the
+steps, to keep the way down to the boat.
+
+"Am I to speak plainly, sir?" said the detective in a low voice.
+
+"Yes; let me know the worst."
+
+"I'm afraid it is, sir.  We have made no examination yet."
+
+He did not finish all he had to say aloud, but whispered in the old
+man's ear.  Uncle Luke made an effort to be firm, but he shuddered and
+turned to Leslie.
+
+"Up to the King's Arms," he said huskily; and taking Leslie's arm, the
+old man walked slowly towards the waterside inn; but they had not gone
+half-way before they encountered George Vine coming hastily down.
+
+Uncle Luke's whole manner changed.
+
+"Where are you going?" he cried half angrily.
+
+His brother merely pointed to the boat.
+
+"How did you know?  Who told you?" he said harshly.
+
+"Nne," was the calm reply.  "Luke, do you suppose I could rest without
+watching for what I knew must come?"
+
+His piteous, reproachful voice went to the heart of his hearers.
+
+"Tell me," he continued earnestly, "Mr Leslie, the truth."
+
+"There is nothing to tell, sir," said Leslie gravely, "so far it is only
+surmise.  Come with us and wait."
+
+Their suspense was not of long duration.  In a very short time they were
+summoned from where they were waiting to another room, where Dr
+Knatchbull came forward with a face so full of the gravity of the
+situation that any hope which flickered in Duncan Leslie's breast died
+out on the instant; and he heard George Vine utter a low moan, as, arm
+in arm, the two brothers advanced for the identification, and then Luke
+led his brother away.
+
+Leslie followed to lend his aid, but Uncle Luke signed to him to go
+back.
+
+He stood watching them till they disappeared up the narrow path leading
+to the old granite house, and a sense of misery such as he had never
+before felt swelled in the young man's breast, for, as he watched the
+bent forms of the two brothers, he saw in imagination what must follow,
+and his brow grew heavy as he seemed to see Louise sobbing on her
+father's neck, heart-broken at her loss.
+
+"And yet I could not help clinging to the hope that he had swum ashore,"
+muttered Leslie, as he walked back to the inn, where he found Dr
+Knatchbull in conversation with the officer.
+
+"I wish I had never seen Cornwall, sir," said the latter warmly; "poor
+lad! poor lad!"
+
+"Then there is no doubt whatever?" said Leslie hurriedly.
+
+"Identification after all these days in the water is impossible," said
+the doctor; "I mean personal identification."
+
+"Then it may not be after all," said Leslie excitedly.
+
+The detective shrugged his shoulders, and took a packet from a little
+black bag.  This he opened carefully, and placed before Leslie a morocco
+pocket-book and a card-case, both stamped with a gold coronet and the
+motto, _Roy et Foy_, while, when the card-case was drawn open and its
+water-soaked contents were taken out, the cards separated easily, and
+there, plainly enough, was the inscription, the result of Aunt
+Marguerite's inciting--
+
+"_Henri Comte des Vignes_."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XIX.
+
+POLL PERROW GOES A-BEGGING.
+
+Dark days of clouds with gloomy days of rain, such as washes the fertile
+soil from the tops of the granite hills, leaving all bare and desolate,
+with nothing to break the savage desolation of the Cornish prospect but
+a few projecting blocks, and here and there a grim-looking, desolate
+engine-house standing up like a rough mausoleum erected to the memory of
+so much dead coin.
+
+There were several of these in the neighbourhood of Hakemouth, records
+of mining adventures where blasting and piercing had gone on for years
+in search of that rich vein of copper or tin, which experts said existed
+so many feet below grass, but which always proved to be a few feet lower
+than was ever reached, and instead of the working leading to the
+resurrection of capital, it only became its grave.
+
+The rain fell, and on the third day the wind beat, and much soil was
+washed down into the verdant, ferny gullies, and out to sea.  The waves
+beat and eddied and churned up the viscous sea-wrack till the foam was
+fixed and sent flying in balls and flakes up the rocks and over the
+fields, where it lay like dirty snow.
+
+In and out of the caverns the sea rushed and bellowed and roared,
+driving the air in before it, till the earth seemed to quiver, and the
+confined air escaped with a report like that of some explosion.  Then
+the gale passed over, the stars came out, and in the morning, save that
+the sea looked muddy instead of crystal clear and pure, all was sunshine
+and joy.
+
+During the storm there had been an inquest, and with the rain pouring
+down till there were inches of water in the grave, the body of the
+unfortunate man was laid to rest.
+
+Duncan Leslie had been busy for a couple of hours in a restless, excited
+way, till, happening to look down from up by his engine-house, he caught
+sight of a grey-looking figure seated upon a stone by the cliff-path.
+Giving a few orders, he hurried along the track.
+
+Uncle Luke saw him coming, out of the corner of one eye, but he did not
+move, only sat with his hands resting upon his stick, gazing out at the
+fishing-boats, which seemed to be revelling in the calm and sunshine,
+and gliding out to sea.
+
+"Good morning."
+
+"Bah! nothing of the kind," said Uncle Luke, viciously.  "There isn't
+such a thing."
+
+"No?" said Leslie, smiling sadly.
+
+"Nothing of the kind.  Life's all a mistake.  The world's a round ball
+of brambles with a trouble on every thorn.  Young Harry has the best of
+it, after all.  Get wet?"
+
+"Yesterday at the funeral?  Yes, very."
+
+"Hah!  Saw you were there.  Horrible day.  Well, good job it's all
+over."
+
+Leslie was silent, and stood watching the old man.
+
+"Something upset you?" he said at last.
+
+"Upset me?  Do you think it's possible for me to go to my brother's
+without being upset?"
+
+"No, no.  It has been a terrible business for you all."
+
+"Wasn't talking about that," snapped out Uncle Luke.  "That's dead and
+buried and forgotten."
+
+"No, sir; not forgotten."
+
+"I said, `and forgotten.'"
+
+Leslie bowed.
+
+"Confound that woman!" continued Uncle Luke, after a pause.  "Talk about
+Huguenot martyrs, sir; my brother George and that girl have lived a life
+of martyrdom putting up with her."
+
+"She is old and eccentric."
+
+"She has no business to be old and eccentric.  Nobody has, sir; unless--
+unless he shuts himself up all alone as I do myself.  I never worry any
+one; I only ask to be let alone.  There, you needn't sneer."
+
+"I did not sneer, sir."
+
+"No, you didn't, Leslie.  I beg pardon.  You're a good fellow, Leslie.
+True gentleman.  No man could have done more for us.  But only to think
+of that woman attacking poor George and me as soon as we got back from
+the funeral.  Abused him for degrading his son, and driving him to his
+terrible death.  It was horrible, sir.  Said she would never forgive
+him, and drove Louise sobbing out of the room."
+
+Duncan Leslie winced, and Uncle Luke gave him a stern look.
+
+"Ah, fool--fool--fool!" he exclaimed.  "Can't you keep out of those
+trammels?  Louise?  Yes, a nice girl--now; but she'll grow up exactly
+like her aunt.  We're a half-mad family, Leslie.  Keep away from us."
+
+"Mr Luke Vine--"
+
+"No, no.  You need not say anything.  Be content as you are, young man.
+Women are little better than monkeys, only better-looking.  Look at my
+sister.  Told George last night that he was living under false
+pretences, because he signed his name Vine.  Bah! she's an idiot.  Half
+mad."
+
+He turned sharply round from gazing out to sea, and looked keenly in
+Leslie's face.
+
+"Very well," he said quickly.  "I don't care if you think I am."
+
+"Really, Mr Luke Vine, I--"
+
+"Don't trouble yourself to say it.  You thought I wasn't much better
+than my sister.  I could see you did.  Very well; perhaps I am not, but
+I don't go dancing my lunacy in everybody's face.  Ah, it's a queer
+world, Leslie."
+
+"No, sir; it is the people who are queer."
+
+"Humph!  That's not bad for you, Leslie.  Yes; you are about right.  It
+is the people who are queer.  I'm a queer one, so my folks think,
+because I sent my plate to the bank, had my furniture in a big town
+house sold, and came to live down here.  My sister says, to disgrace
+them all.  There, I'm better now.  Want to speak to me?"
+
+"N-no, nothing very particular, Mr Vine."
+
+Uncle Luke tightened his lips, and stared fiercely out to sea.
+
+"Even he can't tell the truth," he said.  "Stupid fellow!  Just as if I
+couldn't read him through and through."
+
+The meeting was assuming an unpleasant form when there was a diversion,
+Poll Perrow coming slowly up, basket on back, examining each face keenly
+with her sharp, dark eyes.
+
+"Morning, Master Leslie," she said in her sing-song tone.  "Nice
+morning, my son.  Morning, Master Luke Vine, sir.  Got any fish for me
+to-day?"
+
+Leslie nodded impatiently; Uncle Luke did not turn his head.
+
+"I said to myself," continued the old woman, "Master Luke Vine saw that
+shoal of bass off the point this morning, and he'll be sure to have a
+heavy basket for me of what he don't want.  Dessay I can sell you one,
+Mr Leslie, sir."
+
+"Can't you see when two gentlemen are talking?" said Uncle Luke,
+snappishly.  "Go away."
+
+"Ay, that I will, Master Luke, only let's have the fish first."
+
+"I told you I haven't been fishing."
+
+"Nay, not a word, Master Luke.  Now, did he, Master Leslie?  No fish,
+and I've tramped all the way up here for nothing."
+
+"Shouldn't have come, then."
+
+"It's very hard on a poor woman," sighed Poll, sinking on a stone, and
+resting her hands on her knees, her basket creaking loudly.  "All this
+way up and no fish."
+
+"No; be off."
+
+"Iss, Master Luke, I'll go; but you've always been a kind friend to me,
+and I'm going to ask a favour, sir.  I'm a lone woman, and at times I
+feel gashly ill, and I thought if you'd got a drop of wine or
+sperrits--"
+
+"To encourage you in drinking."
+
+"Now listen to him, what hard things he can say, Master Leslie, when I'm
+asking for a little in a bottle to keep in the cupboard for medicine."
+
+"Go and beg at my brother's," snarled Uncle Luke.
+
+"How can I, sir, with them in such trouble?  Give me a drop, sir; 'bout
+a pint in the bottom of a bottle."
+
+"Hear her, Leslie?  That's modest.  What would her ideas be of a fair
+quantity?  There, you can go, Poll Perrow.  You'll get no spirits or
+wine from me."
+
+"Not much, sir, only a little."
+
+"A little?  Ask some of your smuggling friends that you go to meet out
+beyond the East Town."
+
+The woman's jaw dropped, and Leslie saw that a peculiar blank look of
+wonder came over her countenance.
+
+"Go to meet--East Town?"
+
+"Yes; you're always stealing out there now before daybreak.  I've
+watched you."
+
+"Now think of that, Master Leslie," said the woman with a forced laugh.
+"I go with my basket to get a few of the big mussels yonder for bait,
+and he talks to me like that.  There, see," she continued, swinging
+round her basket and taking out a handful of the shellfish, "that's the
+sort, sir.  Let me leave you a few, Master Luke Vine."
+
+"I don't believe you, Poll.  It would not be the first time you were in
+a smuggling game.  Remember that month in prison?"
+
+"Don't be hard on a poor woman," said Poll.  "It was only for hiding a
+few kegs of brandy for a poor man."
+
+"Yes, and you're doing it again.  I shall just say a word to the
+coastguard, and tell them to have an eye on some of the caves yonder."
+
+"No, no: don't, Master Luke, sir," cried the woman, rising excitedly,
+and making the shells in her basket rattle.  "You wouldn't be so hard as
+to get me in trouble."
+
+"There, Leslie," he said with a merry laugh; "am I right?  Nice, honest
+creature this!  Cheating the revenue.  If it was not for such women as
+this, the fishermen wouldn't smuggle."
+
+"But it doesn't do any one a bit of harm, Master Luke, sir.  You won't
+speak to the coastguard?"
+
+"Indeed, but I will," cried Uncle Luke, "and have you punished.  If you
+had been honest your daughter wouldn't have been charged with stealing
+down at my brother's."
+
+"And a false charge too," cried the woman, ruffling up angrily.  Then
+changing her manner, "Now, Master Luke, you wouldn't be so hard.  Don't
+say a word to the coastguard."
+
+"Not speak to them?  Why, time after time I've seen you going off after
+some game."
+
+"And more shame for you to watch.  I didn't spy on you when you were
+down the town of a night, and I used to run against you in the dark
+lanes by the harbour."
+
+Uncle Luke started up with his stick in his hand, and a curious grey
+look in his face.
+
+"Saw--saw me!" he cried fiercely.  "Why, you--but there, I will not get
+out of temper with such a woman.  Do you hear?  Go, and never come here
+again."
+
+"Very well, Master Luke, sir, I'm going now," said the woman, as she
+adjusted the strap across her forehead; "but you won't be so hard as to
+speak to the coastguard.  Don't sir, please."
+
+The woman spoke in a low, appealing way, and after trying in vain to
+catch Luke Vine's eye, she went slowly up the hill.
+
+"Bad lot--a bad family," muttered Uncle Luke uneasily, as he glanced
+sharply up at Leslie from time to time.  "Good thing to rid the place of
+the hag.  Begging at my brother's place for food and things every time
+I've been there.  Yes.  Good morning, Leslie, good morning."
+
+He nodded shortly and went into the cottage, cutting short all further
+attempts at being communicative.
+
+Leslie walked steadily back up the hill to his works, and had not been
+at his office five minutes before Poll Perrow's basket was creaking
+outside.
+
+"I know you won't be so gashly hard on a poor woman, Master Leslie," she
+said.  "It arn't true about me getting brandy, sir.  Let me have a drop
+in the bottom of a bottle, sir.  You'll never miss it, and you don't
+know what good you'll do a poor soul as wants it bad."
+
+"Look here," said Leslie, "I'll give you some on one condition; that you
+do not come here again to beg."
+
+"Not if I can help it, sir; but a well-off gentleman like you will never
+miss a drop.  A pint will be plenty, sir, in as small a bottle as you
+can."
+
+Leslie could not help laughing at the woman's impudence, but he said
+nothing, only went into the house and returned with a pint bottle filled
+with the potent spirit.
+
+"And bless you for it, Master Leslie!" cried Poll Perrow, with her eyes
+sparkling.  "Now, sir, only one little thing more."
+
+"No," said Leslie, sternly.  "I have given you what you asked; now go."
+
+"I only want you to put in a word for me to Master Luke, sir.  Don't let
+him speak to the coastguard."
+
+"Don't be alarmed; the old man is too good-hearted to do anything of the
+kind.  But I should advise you to give up all such practices.  There:
+good-day."
+
+"Good-day, and bless you, my son!" cried Poll eagerly.  "I shan't forget
+this."
+
+"I was foolish to give it to her," said Leslie to himself, as he watched
+the woman's slowly retiring figure; and then he turned his eyes in the
+direction of the Vines', as it stood peaceful and bright-looking on its
+shelf by the cliff, across the intervening valley.
+
+"Might venture to-night.  Surely they would not think it intrusive?
+Yes: I will."
+
+Duncan Leslie felt better after coming to this determination, and went
+busily about his work at the mine.
+
+Poll Perrow went straight down into the little town and then up the path
+at the back, trudging steadily along and at a very good pace, till she
+saw about fifty yards in front a figure going in the same direction.
+
+"Miss Madlin!" she said to herself.  "I'd know her walk anywhere.  And
+all in black, too.  Ah!"
+
+Poll Perrow stopped short with her mouth open.
+
+"How horrid!" she ejaculated.  "It killed him then, after all.  Poor
+Master Van Heldre!  Poor Master Harry Vine!"
+
+She rubbed a tear away with her rough brown hand.  Then starting up, she
+made the mussels in her basket rattle.
+
+"What nonsense!" she said.  "Why, Master Crampton told me last night,
+and down the street, that Master Van Heldre was much better, and he
+couldn't ha' died and Miss Madlin gone in mourning since last night.
+They couldn't ha' got the gownd made."
+
+By this time Madelaine had reached the Vines' gate and gone in.
+
+"Phew!"
+
+Poll Perrow gave vent to a low whistle, something like the cry of a
+gull.
+
+"Why, I know!" she muttered.  "Miss Madlin's gone into mourning all
+along o' Master Harry.  Then my Liza's a great goose.  She was fond of
+him after all.  Why! only to think!"
+
+She turned off down a narrow path, so as to get round to the back door,
+where she was met by Liza, looking very red and angry.
+
+"Now, what have you come for again?  I saw you coming as I let Miss
+Madlin in, and it's too bad."
+
+"Oh, Liza, Liza!" said the fish-woman, "what a wicked girl you are to
+talk to your poor mother like that!"
+
+"I don't care whether it's wicked or whether it arn't wicked, but I just
+tell you this: if you come begging again, you may just go back, for
+you'll get nothing here.  It's disgraceful; you taking to that."
+
+"No, no, not begging, my clear," said Poll, staring at her daughter's
+red-brown face, as if lost in admiration.  "Lor', Liza, what a hansum
+gal you do grow!"
+
+"Now, do adone, mother, and don't talk like that."
+
+"I can't help it, Liza.  I wonder half the fisher-lads in port arn't
+half mad after you."
+
+"Now, mother, be quiet; you'll have Miss Margreet hear!"
+
+"Nay, she'll be down-stairs with the company, won't she?  Yes, Liza, you
+do grow more and more hansum every day."
+
+"Then you oughtn't to tell me so, mother.  It'll only make me prouder
+than I am.  Now, what do you want again?  This is four times you've been
+here this week."
+
+"Is it, my clear?  Well, you see, I've got some of them big mussels as
+you're so fond on, and I brought you a few to cook for your supper."
+
+"It's very good of you.  Well, there: give them to me, and do please
+go."
+
+"Yes, my dear, there you are.  That's right.  Haven't got a bit o' cold
+meat, and a bit o' bread you could give me, have you, Liza?"
+
+"No, I haven't, mother; and you ought to be ashamed to ask."
+
+"So I am, my dear, almost.  But you have got some, or half a chicken and
+some ham."
+
+"Chicken!  Oh, the idea!"
+
+"Yes.  There's a good girl; and if there's a bit o' cold pudden, or
+anything else, let's have it too.  Put it all together in a cloth."
+
+"Now, mother, I won't.  It's stealing, and I should feel as if I'd stole
+it."
+
+"Oh, what a gal you are, Liza!  Why, didn't I wash and iron and bring
+home that last napkin, looking white as snow?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"And so I will this."
+
+"But you won't bring back the cold chicken and ham," retorted Liza.
+
+"Why, how could I, my dear?  You know they won't keep."
+
+"Well, once for all, mother, I won't, and there's an end of it."
+
+"You'll break my heart, Liza, 'fore you've done," whimpered the
+fish-woman.  "Think o' the days and days as I've carried you 'bout in
+this very basket, when I've been out gathering mussels or selling fish."
+
+"Now, don't talk stuff, mother.  You weared out half-a-dozen baskets
+since then."
+
+"P'r'aps I have, Liza, but I haven't weared out the feeling that you're
+my gal, as lives here on the fat o' the land, and hot puddens every day,
+and refuses to give your poor mother a bit o' broken wittle to save her
+from starving.  Oh!"
+
+"Mother, don't!" cried Liza, stamping her foot.  "If you cry like that
+they'll hear you in the parlour."
+
+"Then give me a bit o' something to eat, and let me go."
+
+"I won't, and that's flat, mother."
+
+"Then I shall sit down on the front doorstep, and I'll wait till Miss
+Louie comes; and she'll make you give me something.  No, I won't; I'll
+stop till cook comes.  Where is she?"
+
+"A-cleaning herself."
+
+"Then I shall wait."
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" cried Liza, stamping about, and speaking in a
+tearful whisper.  "I do wish I never hadn't had no mother, that I do."
+
+"There's a ungrateful gal," said the fish-woman; "and you growed up so
+beautiful, and me so proud on you."
+
+"Well, will you promise to go away, mother, and never come and ask no
+more if I give you something this time?"
+
+"To be sure I will, my dear, of course.  There, be quick, before any one
+comes, and do it up neat in a napkin, there's a good gal, and I'll bring
+you a lobster next time I come."
+
+"There, now, and you promised you wouldn't come no more."
+
+"Ah, well, I won't then, my dear."
+
+"Then I'll get you a bit this time; but mind, never no more."
+
+"No, never no more, my beauty.  Only be quick."
+
+Liza disappeared, and Poll Perrow took off her basket and sat down on
+the edge, rubbing her knees and laughing heartily to herself, but
+smoothing her countenance again directly, as she heard her daughter's
+step.
+
+"There, mother," whispered Liza, "and I feel just as if there was the
+police after me, same as they was after Master Harry.  This is the last
+time, mind."
+
+"Yes, my beauty, the last time.  What is there?"
+
+"No, no, don't open it," cried the girl, laying her hand sharply upon
+the parcel she had given to her mother.  "There's half a pork pie, and a
+piece of seed cake, and a bit o' chicken."
+
+"Any bread?"
+
+"Yes, lots.  Now hide it in your basket, and go."
+
+"To be sure I will, Liza."  And the white napkin and its contents were
+soon hidden under a piece of fishing-net.  "There, goodbye, my dear.
+You'll be glad you've helped your poor old mother, that you will, and--
+Good mornin', Miss Margreet."
+
+"Put that basket down," said the old lady sharply, as she stood gazing
+imperiously at the detected pair.
+
+"Put the basket down, miss?"
+
+"Yes, directly.  I am glad I came down and caught you in the act.
+Shameful!  Disgraceful!  Liza, take out that parcel of food stolen from
+my brother."
+
+"No, no, Miss Margreet, only broken wittles, as would be thrown away."
+
+"Quick!  Take it out, Liza.  Now go."
+
+Liza stooped down, sobbing, and pulled the bundle out of the basket.
+
+"I always said you'd be the ruin of me, mother," she sobbed.
+
+"No, no, my dear," cried the woman; "Miss Margreet won't be hard on us.
+Let me have it, miss, do, please."
+
+"Go away!" cried Aunt Marguerite fiercely.
+
+"Pray, pray do, miss," cried the woman imploringly.
+
+"Go away, I say!" cried Aunt Marguerite, "and if you set foot on these
+premises again, you shall leave with the police.  Go!"
+
+Poor Liza stood inside the door, sobbing, with the bundle of good things
+neatly pinned up in her hand, while Aunt Marguerite stood pointing
+imperiously with her closed fan, as if it were a sceptre, till Poll
+Perrow, with her basket swung once more upon her back, disappeared out
+of the gate.
+
+"Now, madam," said Aunt Marguerite, "the moment that young person in the
+drawing-room has gone, you shall receive your dismissal, and in
+disgrace."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XX.
+
+A MEETING IN PAIN.
+
+George Vine sat in his easy-chair in front of the fireplace, gazing at
+the cut paper ornaments and willow shavings, and seeing in them the
+career of his son, and the dismal scene in the churchyard, with the rain
+falling and making little pearls on the black coffin cloth.
+
+He had not spoken for hours, but from time to time, as Louise laid her
+hand upon his arm, he had slowly taken and pressed it between his own
+before raising it with a sigh to his lips.
+
+"Don't speak to me, my darling," he had pleaded to her when he first
+took his place there that morning.  "I want to think."
+
+She had respected his prayer, and in her endeavours to take her thoughts
+from the horrors which oppressed her she had stolen into her father's
+study, as an idea struck her, but only to come away sadly.  Her visit
+had been too late; the cherished collection of marine objects were one
+and all dead.
+
+Her father looked up as she returned.  He had not seemed to notice her,
+but he knew where she had been, and as he gave her a questioning look
+Liza entered the room.
+
+"Miss Van Heldre, miss."
+
+Vine caught his child's hand, as if too weak for the encounter; but, as
+the closely-veiled figure in black crossed the room quickly, and both
+realised the meaning of those mourning garments, Louise burst into a
+wild fit of sobbing, and turned away for a moment, but only to be
+clasped directly in Madelaine's arms.
+
+There was an earnest, loving embrace, and then Madelaine turned to Vine,
+laying her hands upon his breast, and kissing him as a child would its
+parent.
+
+"So much better," she said, in answer to the wistful, inquiring look
+directed at her.  "I have come to fetch you both."
+
+"To fetch us?" faltered Vine with a horrified look.
+
+"My father begs you will come to him.  I am his ambassador.  You will
+not refuse?"
+
+"I cannot meet him," said Vine in a faint voice full of despair; "and,"
+he added to himself, "I could not bear it."
+
+"He would come to you, but he is weak and suffering," said Madelaine as
+she laid her hand upon the stricken man's arm.  "`Tell him I beg he will
+come to me,' he said," she whispered.  "You will not refuse, Mr Vine?"
+
+"No, I will not refuse.  Louise, dear?"
+
+"Yes, father, I will go with you," she said slowly; and in a few minutes
+she returned, ready for the walk, and crossed to where her father sat
+holding Madelaine's hand.
+
+As she entered he rose and met her.
+
+"Louise, my child, must we go?" he said feebly.  "I feel as if it were
+almost more than I can bear.  Must we go?"
+
+"Yes," she replied gravely; "we must go."
+
+Vine bowed his head.
+
+"Come, my child," he said, turning to Madelaine, and he was half-way to
+the door when Aunt Marguerite entered.
+
+"Going out?" she said, shrinking from the sombre figure in black.
+
+"Yes, aunt."
+
+"You must attend first to what I have to say, Louise.  Miss Van Heldre
+can, I dare say, wait."
+
+Madelaine bent her head and drew back.
+
+"I have business with Mr Van Heldre, Marguerite," said Vine more
+sternly than he had ever spoken to her before.  "You must wait till our
+return."
+
+Aunt Marguerite's eyes flashed an indignant look at Madelaine, as the
+cause of this rebuff, and she drew back with a stiff courtesy and walked
+slowly before them out of the room.
+
+George Vine gazed wildly round him as he walked slowly down the steep
+way toward the town.  It seemed terrible to him that in such a time of
+suffering and mourning, sea, sky, and earth should be painted in such
+lovely colours.  The heavy rain of the previous days seemed to have
+given a brilliancy to leaf and flower that before was wanting; and as,
+from time to time, he glanced wildly at the rocky point, the scene of
+the tragedy of his life, the waves were curling over, and breaking in
+iridescent foam upon the rocks, to roll back in silvery cataracts to the
+sea.
+
+He turned away his eyes with a shudder, fighting hard to keep his
+thoughts from the horrors of that night; but he was doomed to have them
+emphasised, for, just before reaching the foot of the steep way, the
+little party came suddenly upon the great burly fisherman, who had
+undertaken to sail across to St Malo with the fugitive that night,
+
+"Mornin', master," he said.
+
+Vine turned ghastly pale, and his brain reeled; but he soon recovered
+himself.
+
+"Louise, Madelaine, my children, go, and I will follow."
+
+Louise looked at him appealingly; but he was perfectly firm, and she
+went on with her friend.
+
+"I fear, in the midst of my trouble, Perrow, that I had forgotten my
+engagement with you."
+
+"Like enough, master, and no wonder.  There was no hurry."
+
+"Yes, but there is," said Vine slowly.  "Will you come to my house
+to-night or to-morrow morning? and I'll give you my cheque to take to
+the bank."
+
+"For how much?" said the man eagerly.
+
+"One hundred pounds; the amount I promised you."
+
+"Ay, but that was for taking the poor boy across.  No, Master Vine,
+we've been talking it over, the five on us, and there's the boat, and
+one night's fishing gone as might have been a good one or it mightn't
+been nothing; so we're going to ask you to pay us a pound apiece."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Good-day, Master Vine, busy now.  I'll come on in a day or two."
+
+The man turned away abruptly, and, with his brow heavily wrinkled, as he
+felt moved by the man's generosity, Vine walked slowly on, and overtook
+Louise and Madelaine.
+
+Mrs Van Heldre was waiting in the hall as the little party entered, and
+she hurried forward with extended hands, and her lips parted to speak,
+but no words would come.  She could only press their old friend's hand
+before leading him up to where Van Heldre lay, his face ghastly pale
+beneath his bandaged head.
+
+As they entered he held out his hand to Vine, who stood gazing at him
+without an attempt to accept the friendly grip.
+
+"Louise, my child," said Van Heldre, turning to her; and she stepped
+quickly across to take the extended hand.  "Now leave us," he said
+quietly; and, in obedience to his wish, the rest quitted the room.
+
+"You did not take my hand, George Vine," said Van Heldre, as soon as
+they were alone.
+
+"How can I, after the wrong you have received at mine?"
+
+"Hah! that is why I sent for you," said Van Heldre.  "I have lain here
+insensible and ignorant of what was done, else those proceedings would
+never have been taken.  You have much to forgive me, Vine."
+
+"You have much to forgive me," said the latter slowly.
+
+"Then take my hand, and let us forgive, if there is any call for such a
+proceeding on either side.  Vine, old friend, how you must have
+suffered, and I not there to say one kindly word!"
+
+"Van Heldre," said Vine slowly, as, holding his friend's hand, he slowly
+seated himself by the bed's head, "did you ever know what it was to pray
+for death?"
+
+"Thank Heaven, no," replied Van Heldre with a slight shudder, for there
+was something weird and strange about his old friend's manner.  "Since I
+have regained my senses I have prayed to live.  There seems so much to
+be done at times like this.  But, Vine, old friend, what can I say to
+you?  For pity's sake don't look at me like that!"
+
+"Look at you--like that?" said Vine slowly.
+
+"Yes; your eyes seem so full of reproach.  I tell you, my dear old
+fellow, that I would rather have died than that poor boy should have
+been prosecuted for my sake."
+
+"I know everything," said Vine slowly.  "I do not reproach you, John.  I
+reproach myself, and at times it seems more than I can bear."
+
+"Louise," said Van Heldre softly.
+
+"Louise!  Ah, Louise!" said Vine eagerly.  "Without her I must have
+died."
+
+The two old friends sat, hand clasped in hand, in perfect silence for
+quite an hour before there was a gentle tap at the door, and Madelaine
+entered.
+
+"He is so weak yet, Mr Vine," she said, taking and separating their
+hands.
+
+"Madelaine--my child!"
+
+"Mr Vine may come again in the evening for a little while," said
+Madelaine, smiling, as she bent down and kissed her father's brow.
+
+"So stern and tyrannical," protested Van Heldre.
+
+"Only to make you well, father," replied Madelaine, smiling: and she led
+their old friend from the room.
+
+"He spoke as if he wanted my forgiveness," said Vine as he walked slowly
+back, noting as they went the kindly deference paid to them by those
+they met.
+
+"Mr Van Heldre, father?" said Louise gently.
+
+"Did I speak aloud, my child?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Ah, these thoughts are too keen, and will not be crushed down.  Yes,
+child, yes.  My forgiveness, when it is I who should plead, for all the
+horrors of the past, plead for his forgiveness, Louise.  He must have
+suffered terribly to be brought down to this."
+
+Louise looked wistfully in her father's face, whose sunken cheeks and
+hollow eyes told of mental suffering greater far than that which their
+friend had been called upon to bear.
+
+"Will time heal all this agony and pain?" she asked herself; and it was
+with a sigh of relief that she reached the gate, and her father went
+straight to his chair, to sit down and stare straight before him at the
+sunlit grate, as if seeing in the burning glow scene after scene of the
+past, till he started excitedly, for there was a ring at the gate-bell.
+
+Louise rose to lay her hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Only some visitors, or a letter," she said tenderly.
+
+"I thought--I thought it might be news," he said wearily.  "But no, no,
+no.  There can be no news now."
+
+"Mr Leslie, miss," said Liza from the door.
+
+"To see me, Liza?  Say that--"
+
+"No, sir.  In the drawing-room, sir.  'Tis to see Miss Louise, if she
+will give him an interview, he said."
+
+Louise looked wildly at her father.
+
+"Must I see him, father?" she said, with her face now ghastly pale.
+
+He did not answer for some moments, and then slowly said the one word--
+
+"Yes."
+
+She bent down and kissed him, and then summoning up all her courage,
+slowly left the room.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XXI.
+
+DUNCAN LESLIE SPEAKS OUT.
+
+Duncan Leslie was standing at a table on which was a photograph of
+Louise, as she entered the room silently; and as, after a long
+contemplation of the counterfeit, he drew a long breath, and looked up
+to see the object of his thoughts standing just inside the doorway, too
+much agitated to give notice of her presence, he coloured like a boy
+caught in some act of which he was ashamed.
+
+"Miss Vine," he cried, advancing quickly with extended hands.
+
+Louise did not speak, but slowly raised one hand for him to take, and
+suffered him to lead her to a chair.
+
+He remained standing before her as the looked up at him in a wild,
+frightened manner, as if imploring him not to speak, and for a few
+moments silence reigned.
+
+"You will forgive me," said Leslie, at last, "if my visit is ill-timed,
+for I am a busy man, ill-versed in the etiquette of such matters.  I was
+in a dilemma.  I wished to try and show my sympathy, and I was afraid to
+stay away for fear of seeming neglectful."
+
+"Mr Leslie need have been under no apprehension," said Louise slowly,
+and speaking as if sorrow had exhausted itself, and there was nothing
+left but resignation.  "My father and I have thought very deeply, and
+can never be sufficiently grateful for all that has been done."
+
+"You have suffered so," he said in a low voice, "that I am going to beg
+of you not to refer to the past.  Of course, I know," he added quickly,
+"how easy it is to speak platitudes--how hard to express what one feels
+at a time like this."
+
+"Mr Leslie need not speak," said Louise quietly.  "He has shown his
+sympathy in a way that no words can express."
+
+Leslie gazed down at the piteous, sorrow-stricken face before him; and,
+as if wrenching himself away, he walked to the window, and stood gazing
+out for a few moments while Louise sat watching him, and fighting hard
+with her emotions.  She felt weakened by all that had gone by, and as
+if, had he extended his arms to her, she could have flown to him,
+nestled in his breast, and begged him to help her in this terrible
+strait.  And yet all the time her sorrow had strengthened, as well as
+enfeebled, for she was able to master her weakness, and follow out the
+course she had planned.
+
+Leslie returned to her side.
+
+"I must speak," he said hoarsely.  "It is not cruelty at a time like
+this; it is the desire to help, to console, to be near you in distress.
+Miss Vine--Louise--you--forgive me for saying it--you must have known
+that for months past I have loved you."
+
+She looked up at him wistfully, and there was a look of such pain and
+sorrow in her eyes that he paused, and took the hand which she resigned
+to him without shrinking, but only to send a thrill of pain through him,
+for the act was not that of one accepting the offer of his love.
+
+"Yes," she said, after a painful pause, "I did think that you must care
+for me."
+
+"As I do," he whispered earnestly, "and this is my excuse for speaking
+now.  No: don't shrink from me.  I only ask you to think of me as one
+whose sole thought is of you, and of how he may help and serve you."
+
+"You have helped us in every way," she said sadly.
+
+"I have tried so hard," he said huskily; "but everything has seemed
+little compared to what I wished; and now--it is all I ask: you will let
+this formal barrier between us be cast away, so that in everything I may
+be your help and counsellor.  Louise, it is no time to talk of love," he
+cried earnestly, "and my wooing is that of a rough, blunt man; and--
+don't shrink from me--only tell me that some day, when all this pain and
+suffering has been softened by time, I may ask you to listen to me; and
+that now I may go away feeling you believe in my love and sympathy.  You
+will tell me this?"
+
+She softly drew away her hand, giving him a look so full of pity and
+sorrow that a feeling akin to despair made his heart swell within his
+breast.  He had read of those who resigned the world with all its hopes
+and pleasures from a feeling that their time was short here, and of
+death-bed farewells, and there was so much of this in Louise's manner
+that he became stricken and chilled.
+
+It was only by a tremendous effort over self that he was able to summon
+up the strength to speak; and, in place of the halting, hesitating words
+of a few minutes before, he now spoke out earnestly and well.
+
+"Forgive me," he said; and she trembled as she shrank away to cover her
+eyes with her hand.  "It was folly on my part to speak to you at such a
+time, but my love is stronger than worldly forms, and though I grieve to
+have given you pain, I cannot feel sorry that I have spoken the simple,
+honest truth.  You are too sweet and true to deal lightly with a man's
+frank, earnest love.  Forgive me--say good-bye.  I am going away
+patiently--to wait."
+
+His manner changed as he took her disengaged hand and kissed it tenderly
+and respectfully.
+
+"I will not ask to see your father to-day.  He is, I know, suffering and
+ill; but tell him from me that he has only to send a messenger to bring
+me here at once.  I want to help him in every way.  Good-bye."
+
+"Stop!"
+
+He was half-way to the door when that one word arrested him, and with a
+sense of delicious joy flooding his breast, he turned quickly to listen
+to the words which would give him a life's happiness.  The flash of joy
+died out as quickly as that of lightning, and in the same way seemed to
+leave the hope that had arisen scathed and dead.  For there was no
+mistaking that look, nor the tone of the voice which spoke what seemed
+to him the death-warrant of his love.
+
+"I could not speak," she said in a strange low voice full of the pain
+she suffered.  "I tried to check you, but the words would not come.
+What you ask is impossible; I could not promise.  It would be cruel to
+you--unjust, and it would raise hopes that could never be fulfilled."
+
+"No, no.  Don't say that," he cried appealingly.  "I have been
+premature.  I should have waited patiently."
+
+"It would have been the same.  Mr Leslie, you should not have asked
+this.  You should not have exposed yourself to the pain of a refusal, me
+to the agony of being forced to speak."
+
+"I grant much of what you say," he pleaded.  "Forgive me."
+
+"Do not misunderstand me," she continued, after a brave effort to master
+her emotion.  "After what has passed it would be impossible.  I have but
+one duty now; that of devoting myself to my father."
+
+"You feel this," he pleaded; "and you are speaking sincerely; but wait.
+Pray say no more--now.  There: let me say good-bye."
+
+"No," she said sternly; "you shall not leave me under a misapprehension.
+It has been a struggle that has been almost too great: but I have won
+the strength to speak.  No: Mr Leslie, it is impossible."
+
+"No, Mr Leslie, it is impossible!"  The words were like a thin, sharp
+echo of those spoken by Louise, and they both started and turned, to see
+that Aunt Marguerite had entered the room, and had not only heard her
+niece's refusal of Leslie, but gathered the full import of the sentence.
+
+She stood drawn up half-way between them and the door, looking very
+handsome and impressive in her deep mourning; but there was the
+suggestion of a faint sneering smile upon her lip, and her eyes were
+half closed, as with hands crossed over her breast, she seemed to point
+over her shoulder with her closed black fan.
+
+"Aunt!" exclaimed Louise.  "How could--"
+
+Her strength was spent.  She could say no more.  Her senses seemed to
+reel, and with the impression upon her that if she stayed she would
+swoon away, she hurried from the room, leaving Leslie and the old woman
+face to face.
+
+He drew in a long breath, set his teeth, and meeting Aunt Marguerite's
+angry look firmly, he bowed, and was about to quit the house.
+
+"No, not yet," she said.  "I am no eavesdropper, Mr Leslie; but I felt
+bound to watch over that poor motherless girl.  It was right that I
+should, for in spite of all my hints, I may say my plain speaking
+regarding my child's future, you have taken advantage of her
+helplessness to press forward your suit."
+
+"Miss Vine--"
+
+"Miss Marguerite Vine, if you please, Mr Leslie," said the lady with a
+ceremonious bow.
+
+"Miss Marguerite Vine then," cried Leslie angrily, "I cannot discuss
+this matter with you: I look to Mr Vine."
+
+"My brother is weak and ill.  I am the head of this family, sir, and I
+have before now told you my intentions respecting my niece."
+
+"Yes, madam, but you are not her father."
+
+"I am her father's sister, and if my memory serves me rightly, I told
+you that Monsieur De Ligny--"
+
+"Who is Monsieur De Ligny?" said Vine, entering the room slowly.
+
+"Mr Vine, I must appeal to you," cried Leslie.
+
+"No.  It would be indecorous.  I have told Mr Leslie, who has been
+persecuting Louise with his addresses, that it is an outrage at such a
+time; and that if our child marries there is a gentleman of good French
+lineage to be studied.  That his wishes are built upon the sand, for
+Monsieur De Ligny--"
+
+"Monsieur De Ligny?"
+
+"A friend of mine," said Aunt Marguerite quickly.
+
+"Mr Vine," said Leslie hotly, "I cannot stay here to discuss this
+matter with Miss Vine."
+
+"Miss Marguerite Vine," said the old lady with an aggravating smile.
+
+Leslie gave an impatient stamp with one foot, essayed to speak, and
+choking with disappointment and anger, failed, and hurried out of the
+house.
+
+"Such insufferable insolence!  And at a time like this," cried Aunt
+Marguerite, contemptuously, as her brother with a curiously absorbed
+look upon his face began to pace the room.  "He has sent the poor girl
+sobbing to her room."
+
+"Louise has not engaged herself to this man, Marguerite?"
+
+"Engaged herself.  Pah!  You should have been here.  Am I to sit still
+and witness another wreck in our unhappy family through your weakness
+and imbecility?  Mr Leslie has had his answer, however.  He will not
+come again."
+
+She swept out of the room, leaving her brother gazing vacantly before
+him.
+
+"She seems almost to have forgotten poor Harry.  I thought she would
+have taken it more to heart.  But Monsieur De Ligny--Monsieur De Ligny?
+I cannot think.  Another time I shall remember all, I dare say.  Ah, my
+darling," he cried eagerly, as Louise re-entered the room.  "You heard
+what Mr Leslie said?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"And refused him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Her father took her hand, and stood trying to collect his thoughts,
+which, as the result of the agony from which he had suffered, seemed now
+to be beyond control.
+
+"Yes," he said at last, "it was right.  You could not accept Mr Leslie
+now.  But your aunt said--"
+
+He looked at her vacantly with his hand to his head.
+
+"What did your aunt say about your being engaged?"
+
+"Pray, pray, do not speak to me about it, dear," said Louise, piteously.
+"I cannot bear it.  Father, I wish to be with you--to help and comfort,
+and to find help and comfort in your arms."
+
+"Yes," he said, folding her to his breast; "and you are suffering and
+ill.  It is not the first time that our people have been called upon to
+suffer, my child.  But your aunt--"
+
+"Pray, dearest, not now--not now," whispered Louise, laying her brow
+against his cheek.
+
+"I will say no more," he said tenderly.  "Yes, to be my help and comfort
+in all this trouble and distress.  You are right, it is no time for
+thinking of such things as that."
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XXII.
+
+AUNT MARGUERITE MAKES PLANS.
+
+"I could not--I could not.  A wife should accept her husband, proud of
+him, proud of herself, the gift she gives him with her love; and I
+should have been his disgrace.  Impossible!  How could I have ever
+looked him bravely in the face?  I should have felt that he must recall
+the past, and repented when it was too late."
+
+So mused Louise Vine as she sat trying to work that same evening after a
+wearisome meal, at which Aunt Marguerite had taken her place to rouse
+them from their despondent state.  So she expressed it, and the result
+had been painful in the extreme.
+
+Aunt Marguerite's remedy was change, and she proposed that they should
+all go for a tour to the south of France.
+
+"Don't shake your head, George," she said.  "You are not a common
+person.  The lower classes--the uneducated of course--go on nursing
+their troubles, but it is a duty with people of our position to suffer
+and be strong.  So put the trouble behind us, and show a brave face to
+the world.  You hear this, Louise?"
+
+"Yes, aunt," said Louise, sadly.
+
+"Then pray listen to it as if you took some interest in what I said, and
+meant to profit by it, child."
+
+Louise murmured something suggestive of a promise to profit by her
+aunt's wisdom, and the old lady turned to her brother.
+
+"Yes, George, I have planned it all out.  We will go to the south of
+France, to the sea-side if you wish, and while Louise and I try and find
+a little relaxation, you can dabble and net strange things out of the
+water-pools.  Girl: be careful."
+
+This to poor Liza, whose ears seemed to be red-hot, and her cheeks
+alternately flushed and pale, as she brought in and took out the dinner,
+waiting at other times being dispensed with fortunately.  For Liza's
+wits were wool-gathering, according to Aunt Marguerite's theory, and in
+her agitation respecting the manner in which she had been surprised when
+yielding to her mother's importunities, she was constantly watching the
+faces of her master and Louise, and calculating the chances for and
+against ignominious dismissal.  One minute she told herself they knew
+all.  The next minute her heart gave a thump of satisfaction, for
+Louise's sad eyes had looked so kindly in hers that Liza told herself
+her young mistress either did not know, or was going to forgive her.
+Directly after Liza dropped the cover of a vegetable dish in her
+agitation right on Aunt Marguerite's black silk crape-trimmed dress, for
+her master had told her to bring him bread, and in a tone of voice which
+thrilled through her as he looked her in the face with, according to her
+idea, his eyes seeming to say, "This is some of the bread you tried to
+steal."
+
+Liza escaped from the room as soon as possible, and was relieving her
+pent-up feelings at the back door when she heard her name whispered.
+
+"Who's there? what is it?" she said.  "It's only me, Liza, my clear.
+Has she told--"
+
+"Oh, mother!  You shouldn't," sobbed Liza.  "You won't be happy till
+you've got me put in prison."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear, they won't do that.  Never you fear.  Now look here.
+What become of that parcel you made up?"
+
+"I don't know; I've been half wild ever since, and I don't know how it's
+going to end."
+
+"Then I'll tell you," cried the old fish-woman.  "You've got to get me
+that parcel, or else to make me up another."
+
+"I won't; there!" cried Liza angrily.
+
+"How dare you say won't to your mother, miss!" said the old woman
+angrily.  "Now look here; I'm going a bit farther on, and then I'm
+coming back, and I shall expect to find the napkin done up all ready.
+If it isn't, you'll see."
+
+Liza stood with her mouth open, listening to her mother's retiring
+footsteps; and then with a fresh burst of tears waiting to be wiped
+away, she ran in to answer the bell, and clear away, shivering the
+while, as she saw that Aunt Marguerite's eyes were fixed upon her,
+watching every movement, and seeming to threaten to reveal what had been
+discovered earlier in the day.
+
+Aunt Marguerite said nothing, however, then, for her thoughts were taken
+up with her project of living away for a time.  She had been talking
+away pretty rapidly, first to one and then to the other, but rarely
+eliciting a reply; but at last she turned sharply upon her brother.
+
+"How soon shall we be going, George?"
+
+"Going?  Where?" he replied dreamily.
+
+"On the Continent for our change."
+
+"We shall not go on the Continent, Marguerite," he said gravely.  "I
+shall not think of leaving here."
+
+Aunt Marguerite rose from the table, and gazed at her brother, as if not
+sure that she had heard aright.  Then she turned to her niece, to look
+at her with questioning eyes, but to gain no information there, for
+Louise bent down over the work she had taken from a stand.
+
+"Did you understand what your father said?" she asked sharply.
+
+"Yes, aunt."
+
+"And pray what did he say?"
+
+"That he would not go on the Continent."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That he would not leave home with this terrible weight upon his mind."
+
+Aunt Marguerite sat bolt upright in her chair for a few moments without
+speaking, and the look she gave her brother was of the most withering
+nature.
+
+"Am I to understand," she said at last, "that you prefer to stay here
+and visit and nurse your Dutch friend?"
+
+Her brother looked at her, but there was no trace of anger in his
+glance.
+
+Aunt Marguerite lowered her eyes, and then turned them in a supercilious
+way upon Louise.
+
+"May I count upon your companionship," she said, "if I decide to go
+through Auvergne and stay there for a few days, on my way to Hyeres?"
+
+"If you go, aunt?" said Louise wonderingly.
+
+"There is a certain estate in the neighbourhood of Mont d'Or," she
+continued; "I wish to see in what condition it is kept.  These things
+seem to devolve now on me, who am forced to take the lead as
+representative of our neglected family."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Marguerite!" cried Vine impetuously.  "No--no, no,"
+he muttered, checking himself hastily.  "Better not--better not."
+
+"I beg your pardon, brother," she said, raising her glass.
+
+"Nothing--nothing," he replied.
+
+"Well, Louise, child, I am waiting," she continued, turning her eyes in
+a half-pitying, condescending way upon her niece.  "Well?  May I count
+upon you?"
+
+"Aunt, dear--"
+
+"It will do you good.  You look too pale.  This place crushes you down,
+and narrows your intellect, my child.  A little French society would
+work a vast change in you."
+
+"Aunt, clear," said Louise, rising and crossing to her to lay her hands
+upon the old lady's shoulder, "don't talk about such things now.  Let me
+come up to your room, and read to you a little while."
+
+Aunt Marguerite smiled.
+
+"My dear Louise, why do you talk to me like this?  Do you take me for a
+child?"
+
+George Vine heaved a deep sigh, and turned in his chair.
+
+"Do you think I have lived all these years in the world and do not know
+what is best for such a girl as you?"
+
+"But indeed, aunt, I am not ill.  I do not require a change."
+
+"Ah, poor young obstinacy!  I must take you well in hand, child, and see
+if I cannot teach you to comport yourself more in accordance with your
+position in life.  I shall have time now, especially during our little
+journey.  When would it be convenient for you to be ready?"
+
+"Aunt dear!  It is impossible; we could not go."
+
+"Impossible!  Then I must speak.  You will be ready in three days from
+now.  I feel that I require change, and we will go."
+
+"Margaret!" cried Vine, who during the past few minutes had been
+writhing in his seat, "how can you be so absurd!"
+
+"Poor George!" she said, with a sigh, as she rose from her chair.  "I
+wish I could persuade him to go.  Mind, Louise, my child, in three days
+from now.  We shall go straight to Paris, perhaps for a month.  You need
+not trouble about dress.  A few necessaries.  All that you will require
+we can get in Paris.  Come in before you go to bed; I may have a few
+more words to say."
+
+She sailed slowly across the room, waving her fan gently, as if it were
+a wing which helped her progress, as she preserved her graceful
+carriage.  Then the door closed behind her, and Louise half ran to her
+father's side.
+
+"Shall I go up with her?" she whispered anxiously.
+
+Her father shook his head.
+
+"But did you not notice how strange she seemed?"
+
+"No more strange, my dear, than she has often been before, after
+something has agitated her greatly.  In her way she was very fond of
+poor Harry."
+
+"Yes, father, I know; but I never saw her so agitated as this."
+
+"She will calm down, as she has calmed down before."
+
+"But this idea of going abroad?"
+
+"She will forget it by to-morrow.  I was wrong to speak as I did.  It
+only sets her thinking more seriously.  Poor Margaret!  We must be very
+patient and forbearing with her.  Her life was turned out of its regular
+course by a terrible disappointment.  I try always to remember this when
+she is more eccentric--more trying than usual."
+
+Louise shrank a little more round to the back of her father's chair, as
+he drew her hand over his shoulder, and she laid her cheek upon his head
+as, with fixed eyes, she gazed straight before her into futurity, and a
+spasm of pain shot through her at her father's words, "a terrible
+disappointment," "eccentric."  Had Aunt Marguerite ever suffered as she
+suffered now? and did such mental agony result in changing the whole
+course of a girl's young life?
+
+The tears stood in her eyes and dimmed them; but in spite of the
+blurring of her vision, she seemed to see herself gradually changing and
+growing old and eccentric too.  For was not she also wasting with a
+terrible disappointment--a blow that must be as agonising as any Aunt
+Marguerite could have felt?
+
+The outlook seemed so blank and terrible that a strange feeling of
+excitement came over her, waking dream succeeding waking dream, each
+more painful than the last; but she was brought back to the present by
+her father's voice.
+
+"Why, my darling," he said, "your hand is quite cold, and you tremble.
+Come, come, come, you ought to know Aunt Margaret by now.  There, it is
+time I started for Van Heldre's.  I faithfully promised to go back this
+evening.  Perhaps Luke will be there."
+
+"Yes, father," she said, making an effort to be calm, "it is time you
+went down.  Give my dear love to Madelaine."
+
+"Eh?  Give your love? why, you are coming too."
+
+"No, no," she said hastily; "I--I am not well this evening."
+
+"No, you are not well," he said tenderly.  "Your hands are icy, and--
+yes, I expected so, your forehead burns.  Why, my darling, you must not
+be ill."
+
+"Oh, no, dear.  I am not going to be ill, I shall be quite well
+to-morrow."
+
+"Then come with me.  The change will do you good."
+
+"No; not to-night, father.  I would rather stay."
+
+"But Madelaine is in sad trouble too, my child, and she will be greatly
+disappointed if you do not come."
+
+"Tell her I felt too unwell, dear," said Louise imploringly, for her
+father's persistence seemed to trouble her more and more; and he looked
+at her wonderingly, she seemed so agitated.
+
+"But I don't like to leave you like this, my child."
+
+"Yes, yes; please go, dear.  I shall be so much better alone.  There, it
+is growing late.  You will not stop very long."
+
+"No; an hour or two.  I must be guided by circumstances.  If that man is
+there--I cannot help it--I shall stay a very short time."
+
+"That man, father?"
+
+"Yes," said Vine, with a shudder.  "Crampton.  He makes me shiver
+whenever we meet."
+
+His face grew agonised as he spoke; and he rose hastily and kissed
+Louise.
+
+"You will not alter your mind and come?" he said tenderly.
+
+"No, no, father; pray do not press me.  I cannot go to-night."
+
+"Strange!" said George Vine thoughtfully.  "Strange that she should want
+to stay."  He had crossed the little rock garden, and closed the gate to
+stand looking back at the old granite house, dwelling sadly upon his
+children, and mingling thoughts of the determined refusal of Louise to
+come, with projects which he had had _in petto_ for the benefit of his
+son.
+
+He shuddered and turned to go along the level platform cut in the great
+slope before beginning the rapid descent.
+
+Volume 2, Chapter XXIII.
+
+A STARTLING VISITATION.
+
+"Fine night, master, but gashly dark," said a gruff voice, as Vine was
+nearly at the bottom of the slope.
+
+"Ah, Perrow!  Yes, very dark," said Vine quietly.  "Not out with your
+boat to-night?"
+
+"No, Master Vine, not to-night.  Sea brimes.  Why, if we cast a net
+to-night every mash would look as if it was a-fire.  Best at home night
+like this.  Going down town?"
+
+"Yes, Perrow."
+
+"Ah, you'll be going to see Master Van Heldre.  You don't know, sir, how
+glad my mates are as he's better.  Good-night, sir.  You'll ketch up to
+Master Leslie if you look sharp.  He come up as far as here and went
+back."
+
+"Thank you.  Good-night," said Vine, and he walked on, but slackened his
+pace, for he felt that he could not meet Leslie then.  The poor fellow
+would be suffering from his rebuff, and Vine shrank from listening to
+any appeal.
+
+But he was fated to meet Leslie all the same, for at a turn of the steep
+path he encountered the young mine-owner coming towards him, and he
+appeared startled on finding who it was.
+
+"Going out, Mr Vine?" he stammered.  "I was coming up to the house,
+but--er--never mind; I can call some other time."
+
+"I would turn back with you, only I promised to go down to Mr Van
+Heldre's to-night."
+
+"Ah, yes, to Van Heldre's," said Leslie confusedly.  "I'll walk with you
+if you will not mind."
+
+"I shall be glad of your company," said Vine quietly; and they continued
+down to the town, Leslie very thoughtful, and Vine disinclined to
+converse.
+
+"No, I am not going in, Mr Vine.  Will you let me come and say a few
+words to you to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes," replied Vine gently.
+
+He had meant to speak firmly and decisively, but a feeling of pity and
+sympathy for the young man, whose heart he seemed to read, changed his
+tone.  It had been in his heart, too, to say, "It will be better if you
+do not come," but he found it impossible, and they parted.
+
+Leslie hesitated as soon as he was alone.  What should he do?  Go home?
+Home was a horrible desert to him now; and in his present frame of mind,
+the best thing he could do was to go right off for a long walk.  By
+fatiguing the body he would make the brain ask for rest, instead of
+keeping up that whirl of anxious thought.
+
+He felt that he must act.  That was the only way to find oblivion and
+repose from the incessant thought which troubled him.  He started off
+with the intention of wearying his muscles, so as to lie down that night
+and win the sleep to which he was often now a stranger.
+
+His first intent was to go right up by the cliff-path, by Uncle Luke's,
+and over the hill by his own place, but if he went that way there was
+the possibility of finding Uncle Luke leaning over the wall, gazing out
+at the starlit sea, and probably he would stop and question him.
+
+That night his one thought was of being alone, and he took the opposite
+direction, went down to the ferry, hunted out the man from the inn hard
+by, and had himself rowed across the harbour, so as to walk along the
+cliff eastwards, and then strike in north and round by the head of the
+estuary, where he could recross by the old stone bridge, and reach
+home--a walk of a dozen miles.
+
+At the end of a couple of miles along the rugged pathway, where in
+places the greatest care was needed to avoid going over some precipitous
+spot to the shore below, Leslie stopped short to listen to the hollow
+moaning sound of the waves, and he seated himself close to the cliff
+edge, in a dark nook, which formed one of the sheltered look-outs used
+by the coastguard in bad weather.
+
+The sea glittered as if the surface were of polished jet, strewn with
+diamonds, and, impressed by the similarity of the scene to that of the
+night on which the search had been carried on after Harry Vine, Leslie's
+thoughts went back to the various scenes which repeated themselves
+before his mental gaze from the beginning to that terrible finale when
+the remains lay stark and disfigured in the inn shed, and the saturated
+cards proclaimed who the dead man was.
+
+"Poor girl!" he said half aloud, "and with all that trouble fresh upon
+her, and the feeling that she and her family are disgraced for ever, I
+go to her to press forward my selfish, egotistical love.  God forgive
+me!  What weak creatures we men are!"
+
+He sat thinking, taking off his hat for the cool, moist sea air to fan
+his feverish temples, when the solemn silence of the starry night seemed
+to bring to him rest and repose such as he had not enjoyed since the
+hour when Aunt Marguerite planted that sharp, poisoned barb in his
+breast.
+
+"It is not that," he said to himself, with a sigh full of satisfaction.
+"She never felt the full force of love yet for any man, but if ever her
+gentle young nature turned towards any one, it was towards me.  And,
+knowing this, I, in my impatience and want of consideration, contrived
+my own downfall.  No, not my downfall; there is hope yet, and a few
+words rightly spoken will remove the past."
+
+The feverish sensation was passing away swiftly.  The calm serenity of
+the night beneath the glorious dome of stars was bringing with it
+restfulness, and hope rose strongly, as, far away in the east, he saw a
+glittering point of light rise above the sea slowly higher and higher, a
+veritable star of hope to him.
+
+"What's that?" he said to himself, as above the boom of the waves which
+struck below and then filled some hollow and fell back with an angry
+hiss, he fancied he heard a sob.
+
+There was no mistake; a woman was talking in a low, moaning way, and
+then there came another sob.
+
+He rose quickly.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" he said sharply.
+
+"Ah!  Why, how you frightened me!  Is that you, Master Leslie?"
+
+"Yes.  Who is it?  Poll Perrow?"
+
+"Yes, Master Leslie, it's me."
+
+"Why, what are you doing here?" said Leslie, as cynical old Uncle Luke's
+hints about the smuggling flashed across his mind.
+
+"Nothing to do with smuggling," she said, as if divining his thoughts.
+
+"Indeed, old lady!  Well, it looks very suspicious."
+
+"No, it don't, sir.  D'you think if I wanted to carry any landed goods I
+should take 'em along the coastguard path?"
+
+"A man would not," said Leslie, "but I should say it's just what a
+cunning old woman's brain would suggest, as being the surest way to
+throw the revenue men off the scent."
+
+"Dessay you're right, Master Leslie, but you may search me if you like.
+I've got nothing to-night."
+
+"I'm not going to search you, old lady.  I'll leave that to the revenue
+men.  But what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter, Master Leslie?"
+
+"Yes; I heard you sobbing.  Are you in trouble?"
+
+"Of course I am, sir.  Aren't I a lone widow?"
+
+"So you have been these fifteen years."
+
+"Fourteen and three-quarters, sir."
+
+"Ah, well, I was near enough.  But what is it, old lady?  Want a little
+money?"
+
+"No, no, no, Master Leslie, sir; and that's very kind of you, sir; and
+if I don't bring you up half-a-dozen of the finest mack'rel that come in
+these next days, my name aren't Perrow."
+
+"Thank you.  There, I don't want to be inquisitive, but it seems strange
+for a woman like you to be crying away here on the cliff two miles from
+home on a dark night."
+
+"And it seems strange for a young gen'leman like you to be up here all
+alone and three miles from home.  You was watching me, Master Leslie."
+
+"You'll take my word, Poll Perrow," said Leslie quietly.  "I did not
+know you were here."
+
+"Yes, I'll believe you, Master Leslie, sir.  But you was watching some
+one else?"
+
+"No, I came for a walk, my good woman, that's all."
+
+"Then I won't stop you, sir.  Good-night, sir."
+
+"Good-night," said Leslie; and feeling more content, he took out his
+cigar-case, and after selecting one by feeling, he went back into the
+coastguards' station and struck a match.
+
+He looked along the cliff-path as the match flashed, and caught sight
+faintly of the old woman.
+
+"Watching me anyhow," he said to himself, as he lit his cigar.  "Now
+what can that old girl be doing here?  She's fifty-five if she's a day,
+but if she is not courting and had a quarrel with her youthful lover,
+I'm what that old lady says that Van Heldre is--a Dutchman."
+
+He turned back along the path feeling comparatively light-hearted and
+restful.  The long, dark, weary walk to tire himself was forgotten, and
+he went slowly back along the coastguard path, turning a little from
+time to time to gaze over his left shoulder at the brilliant planet
+which rose higher and higher over the glistening sea.
+
+"Hope!" he said half aloud.  "What a glorious word that is, and what a
+weary world this would be if there were none!  Yes, I will hope."
+
+He walked slowly on, wondering whether Poll Perrow was watching and
+following him.  Then he forgot all about her, for his thoughts were
+fixed upon the granite house across the estuary, and the sweet sad face
+of Louise half in shadow, half lit by the soft glow of the shaded lamp.
+
+"Mr Vine will be back by now," he said.  "I might call in and ask how
+Van Heldre is to-night.  It would be sociable, and I should see her, and
+let my manner show my sorrow for having grieved her and given her pain;
+and, is it possible to let her see that I am full of patient, abiding
+hope, that some day she will speak differently to the way in which she
+spoke to-day?  Yes, a woman would read all that, and I will be patient
+and guarded now."
+
+It was astonishing how eager Duncan Leslie felt now to see what news
+George Vine, had brought from Van Heldre's; and with the beautiful
+absurdity of young men in his position, he never allowed himself to
+think that when he crossed the ferry he would be within a stone's throw
+of the merchant's house, and that all he need do was to knock and ask
+old Crampton or Mrs Van Heldre for the latest bulletin, which would be
+gladly given.
+
+It was so much easier to go by the house, make for the path which led up
+the steep slope, and go right to the home on the shelf of the cliff, and
+ask there.
+
+Meanwhile, Louise Vine had seated herself by the dining-room table with
+the light of the shaded lamp falling athwart her glossy hair, and half
+throwing up her sweet pale face, just as Leslie had pictured it far away
+upon the cliff.  Now and then her needle glittered, but only at rare
+intervals, for she was deep in thought.
+
+At times her eyes closed, and as she sat there bending forward, it
+seemed as if she slept; but her lips moved, and a piteous sigh escaped
+her overladen breast.
+
+The night seemed hot and oppressive, and she rose after a time and
+unhasped the casement window, beneath the old painted glass
+coat-of-arms; and, as she approached it, dimly seen by the light cast
+from behind her, she shuddered, for it struck her there was a black
+stain across the painting, and a shadowy dark mark obliterated the proud
+words of the old family motto.
+
+As she threw back the casement she stood leaning her head against the
+window, gazing out into the starlit space, and listening to the faint
+whisper of the coming tide.
+
+While she listened it seemed to her that the faint boom and rush of the
+water obliterated every other sound as she tried in vain to detect her
+father's step slowly ascending the steep path.
+
+"Too soon--too soon," she said softly, and she returned to her seat to
+try and continue her work, but the attempt was vain.  The light fell
+upon her motionless hands holding a piece of some black material, the
+thread was invisible, and only at times a keen thin gleam of light
+betrayed the whereabouts of the needle.  Her sad eyes were fixed on the
+dark opening of the window through which she could see a scarcely
+defined patch of starry sky, while the soft night air gave her a feeling
+of rest, such as had come to the man who had told her that he loved.
+
+"Never more," she sighed at last; "that is all past.  A foolish dream."
+
+Making an effort over herself, she resumed her work, drawing the needle
+through quickly for a few minutes, and trying hard to dismiss Duncan
+Leslie from her thoughts.  As she worked, she pictured her father seated
+by Van Heldre's side; and a feeling of thankfulness came over her as she
+thought of the warm friendship between her elders, and of how firm and
+staunch Van Heldre seemed to be.  Then she thought of the home troubles
+with her Aunt Marguerite, and her father's patient forbearance under
+circumstances which were a heavy trial to his patience.
+
+"Poor Aunt Marguerite!" she sighed, as her hands dropped with her work,
+and she sat gazing across the table straight out at the starry heavens.
+"How she loved poor Harry in her way; and yet how soon he seems to have
+passed out of her mind!"
+
+She sighed as the past came back with her brother's wilfulness and
+folly; but, throwing these weaknesses into the shade, there were all his
+frank, good qualities, his tenderness to her before the troubles seemed
+to wrench them apart; the happy hours they had passed with Madelaine as
+boy and girls together; all happy days--gone for ever, but which seemed
+to stand out now as parts of Harry's life which were to be remembered to
+the exclusion of all that was terrible and black.
+
+"My brother!" she breathed, as she gazed straight out seaward, and a
+faint smile passed her lips; "he loved me, and I could always win him
+over to my side."
+
+The thought seemed frozen in her brain, her half-closed eyes opened
+widely, the pupils dilated, and her lips parted more and more, as she
+sat there fixed to her seat, the chilly drops gathering on her white
+brow, and a thrill of horror coursing through her veins.
+
+For as she looked she seemed to have conjured up the countenance of her
+brother, to gaze in there by the open casement--the face as she had seen
+it last--when he escaped from her bedroom, but not flushed and excited;
+it was now pale, the eyes hollow, and his hair clinging unkempt about
+his brow.
+
+Was she awake, or was this some evolution of her imagination, or were
+those old stories true that at certain times the forms of those we loved
+did return to visit the scenes where they had passed their lives?  This
+then was such a vision of the form of the brother whom she loved; and
+she gazed wildly, with her eyes starting, excited more than fearing, in
+the strange exaltation which she felt.
+
+Then she sank back in her chair with the chill of dread now emphasised,
+as she gazed fixedly at the ghastly face, for she saw the lips part as
+if to speak, and she uttered a low, gasping sound, for from the open
+window came in a quick hoarse whisper,
+
+"Louie, why don't you speak?  Are you alone?"
+
+END OF VOLUME TWO.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter I.
+
+FOR LIBERTY AND LIFE.
+
+Naturalists and students of animal life tell us that the hunted deer
+sheds tears in its agony and fear, and that the hare is ignorant of what
+is before it, for its eyes are strained back in its dread as it watches
+the stride of the pursuing hounds.
+
+The reverse of the latter was the case with Harry Vine, who in his
+horror and shame could only see forward right into the future.  For
+there before him was himself--handcuffed, in gaol, before the
+magistrates, taking his trial, sentenced, and then he, the scion of a
+good family, inflated by the false hopes placed before him by his aunt,
+dressed in the broad-arrow convict's suit, drudging on in his debased
+and weary life--the shame, the disgrace of those who loved him, and
+whom, in those brief moments of agony, he knew he dearly loved.
+
+"Better death!"
+
+He muttered these words between his teeth, as, in a mad fit of cowardice
+and despair, he turned suddenly at the end of the rock pier and plunged
+headlong into the eddying tide.
+
+Whatever the will may wish at such a time, instinct always seems to make
+a frantic effort to combat this mad will, and the struggle for life
+begins.
+
+It was so here, for the sudden plunge into the cold dark water produced
+its instantaneous effect.  The nerves and muscles grew tense, and after
+being borne for some distance straight out to sea, Harry Vine rose to
+the surface, and in obedience to the natural instinct of a good swimmer,
+struck out and turned to regain the pier.
+
+But as he turned he hesitated.  There were the police waiting for him
+when he landed, and his people were on the shore waiting to see him
+disgraced--for he was, of course, in utter ignorance of the efforts that
+had been made to enable him to escape.  And even as he hesitated he knew
+that such a proceeding was impossible.  Had he been tenfold the swimmer
+he could not have reached that point, for the current, after coming from
+the west and striking full against the rocks, was bearing him seaward at
+a tremendous rate.  The voices that had been in a clamour of excitement
+and the shouts and orders were growing distant; the lights that were
+flashing over the water seemed minute by minute more faint, and as,
+almost without effort, he floated on he wondered at the feeling of calm,
+matter-of-fact reasoning which the cold plunge seemed to have aroused.
+
+Always a clever swimmer from the days when the sturdy fisherman Perrow
+had tied a stout hake-line about his waist, and bid him leap into the
+sea from the lugger's side, and taught him to feel confidence in the
+water, he had never felt so much at home as now.  He was clothed, but
+the strong current bore him along, and the slightest movement of his
+limbs kept him with his nostrils clear of the golden-spangled water.
+
+What should he do?
+
+He looked seaward, and there, right off the harbour mouth, was a
+lantern.  He could not make out the shape of the boat; but his guilty
+conscience suggested that it was one placed there by the police for his
+capture; shoreward he could see other moving lights, and he knew as well
+as if he were there that they were boat lanterns, and that people were
+putting off in pursuit.
+
+It did not seem to occur to him that they would be essaying to save him;
+he had committed an offence against the law, and in his then frame of
+mind he could only admit one thought in connection with them into his
+brain, and that was that any boat's crew which pushed off would have but
+one idea--to make every effort to capture him, and so he swam, letting
+the swift tide carry him where it would.
+
+Shouts arose, sounding faint and strange as they came from where the
+lanterns gleamed faintly; and there was an answering hail from the light
+off the harbour--the light toward which he was being borne.
+
+"They'll see me," he thought, and he made a few vigorous strokes to turn
+aside, but gave up directly, as he felt it possible that he might be
+carried by in the darkness.
+
+To his horror, he found that he would be taken so close, that he could
+easily swim to and touch the boat.  For one moment fear swayed him of
+another kind, and he felt that he must give up.
+
+"Better be taken aboard to prison than drown," he muttered; and he swam
+toward the boat.
+
+"Better be drowned than taken off to prison," he said the next moment;
+and then, "Why should I drown?"
+
+His confidence returned as he was borne nearer and nearer to the lugger
+riding here to its buoy; and he could hear the voices of the men on
+board talking eagerly as they gazed shoreward.
+
+"Keep a bright look-out," said a rough voice; and Harry ceased swimming
+after turning over on his back, and let the current bear him swiftly and
+silently along.
+
+The spangled water seemed hardly disturbed by his presence as he neared
+the light, then saw it eclipsed by the boat's hull, just as he felt that
+he must be seen.  Then he was past the boat, and in a few seconds the
+light reappeared from the other side, shining full upon his white face,
+but the men were looking in the other direction and he was not seen.
+
+Once more the horror of drowning came upon him, and he turned on his
+face to swim back.  It was only a momentary sensation, and as he swam
+and felt his power in the water he closed the lips firmly that had
+parted to hail, and swam on.
+
+The shouts came and were answered from time to time, he could hear the
+regular rattle and beat of an oar, and then the blue light flashed out
+brilliantly, and as he raised himself at each long steady stroke he
+could see quite a crowd of figures had gathered on the pier, and he was
+startled to see how far he was from the shore.  And all this time there
+upon his left was the bright red harbour-light, glaring at him like an
+eye, which seemed to be watching him and waiting to see him drown.  At
+times it looked to be so lifelike that it appeared to blink at him, and
+as he swam on he ceased to gaze at the dull yellow light of the moving
+lanterns, and kept on watching that redder eye-like lamp.
+
+The blue light blazed for a time like a brilliant star and then died
+out; the shouts of the men in the boat floated to him, and the lights of
+the town grew farther away as he still swam steadily on with a sea of
+stars above him, and another concave of stars apparently below; on his
+right the open sea, and on his left, where the dull land was, arose a
+jagged black line against the starry sky showing the surface of the
+cliff.
+
+"What shall I do?" he said to himself, as he looked back at light after
+light moving slowly on the water, but all far behind him, for he was, as
+he well knew, in one of the swiftest currents running due east of the
+quay, and for a distance from that point due south.  It was a hard
+question to answer.  He might swim on for an hour--he felt as if he
+could swim for two--and what then?
+
+He could not tell, but all the time the tide was bearing him beyond the
+reach of pursuit so fast that the hails grew more faint, and every
+minute now the roar of the surf grew plainer.
+
+Should he swim ashore--land--and escape?
+
+Where to?
+
+"Hah!"
+
+He uttered a faint cry, for just then his hand touched something cold
+and slimy, and for the moment he felt paralysed, as he recalled how
+often a shark had come in with the tide.  For the object he had touched
+seemed to glide by him, and what felt like a slimy moving fin swept over
+his hand.  He struck out now with all his strength, blindly, and moved
+solely by one impulse--that of escaping from a death so hideous--a chill
+of horror ran through him, and for the moment he felt half paralysed.
+The sensation was agonising, and the strokes he gave were quick,
+spasmodic, and of the kind given by a drowning man; but as he swam on
+and the moments passed without his being seized, the waning courage
+began to return strongly once more, he recovered his nerve, and ceasing
+his frantic efforts swam slowly on.
+
+The efforts he had made had exhausted him, however, and he turned over
+on his back to rest and lie paddling gently, gazing straight up at the
+glorious stars which burned so brilliantly overhead.  The change was
+restful, and conscious that the current swept him still swiftly along,
+he turned once more and began to swim.
+
+That fit of excitement, probably from touching some old weed-grown piece
+of timber, must have lasted longer than he thought, for he had toiled on
+heedless of which direction he took, and this direction had been
+shoreward, the current had done the rest; and now that he swam it was
+into one of the back tidal eddies, and the regular dull roar and rush
+and the darkness ahead taught him that he was only a few hundred yards
+from the cliffs.  He rose up as he swam and looked sharply from side to
+side, to see a faint lambent light where the phosphorescent waves broke,
+and before him the black jagged line which seemed to terminate the
+golden-spangled heavens, where the stars dipped down behind the shore.
+
+He hesitated for a few moments--not for long.  It was madness to strike
+out again into the swift current, when in a short time he could land or,
+if not, reach one of the detached masses of rock, and rest there till
+the tide went down.  But what to do then?  Those who searched for him
+would be certain to hunt along the shore, and to land and strike inland
+was, in his drenched condition, to invite capture.
+
+He shuddered at the thought, and awaking now to the fact that he was
+rapidly growing exhausted, he swam on into the black band that seemed to
+stretch beneath the cliffs.
+
+He was weaker than he realised, and, familiar as he was with this part
+of the coast, it now in the darkness assumed a weird, horrifying aspect;
+the sounds grew, in his strangely excited state, appalling, and there
+were moments when he felt as if the end had come.  For as he swam on it
+was every now and then into some moving mass of anchored wrack, whose
+slimy fronds wrapped round and clung to his limbs, hampering his
+movements and calling forth a desperate struggle before he could get
+clear.
+
+Then, as he reached the broken water, in spite of the lambent glare he
+struck himself severely again and again upon some piece of jagged rock,
+once so heavily that he uttered a moan of pain, and floated helplessly
+and half unnerved listening to the hissing rush and hollow gasping of
+the waves as they plunged in and out among the cavities and hollows of
+the rocks.  A hundred yards out the sea was perfectly smooth, but here
+in-shore, as the tidal swell encountered the cliffs, the tide raced in
+and out through the chaos of fallen blocks like some shoal of mad
+creatures checked in their career and frightened in their frantic
+efforts to escape.
+
+Then every now and then came a low hollow moan like a faint and distant
+explosion, followed by the rattling of stones, and a strange whispering,
+more than enough to appal the stoutest swimmer cast there in the
+darkness of the night.
+
+Three times over was the fugitive thrown across a mass of slimy rock, to
+which, losing heart now, he frantically clung, but only to be swept off
+again, confused, blinded by the spray and with the water thundering in
+his ears.  Once his feet touched bottom, and he essayed to stand for a
+moment to try and wade across, but he only stepped directly into a deep
+chasm, plunging over his head, to rise beating the waves wildly, half
+strangled; and in the strange numbed feeling of confusion which came
+over him, his efforts grew more feeble, his strokes more aimless, and as
+once more he went under and rose with the clinging weeds about his neck
+the fight seemed to be over, and he threw back his head gasping for
+breath.
+
+Rush!  A wave curled right over, swept him from among the clammy weed,
+and the next moment his head was driven against a mass of rock.
+
+What followed seemed to take place in a feverish dream.  He had some
+recollection afterward of trying to clamber up the rough limpet-bossed
+rock, and of sinking down with the water plunging about his eyes and
+leaping at intervals light up his chest, but some time elapsed before he
+thoroughly realised his position, and dazed and half helpless climbed
+higher up to lie where the rock was dry, listening with a shudder to the
+strange sounds of the hurrying tide, and gazing up from time to time at
+the watching stars.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter II.
+
+A PLACE OF REFUGE.
+
+If ever miserable wretch prayed for the light of returning day that
+wretch was Harry Vine.  It seemed hours of agony, during which the water
+hissed and surged all round him as if in search of the victim who had
+escaped, before the faint light in the east began to give promise of the
+morn.
+
+Two or three times over he had noted a lantern far out toward the
+distant harbour, but to all appearances the search had ceased for the
+night, and he was too cold and mentally stunned to heed that now.
+
+He had some idea of where he must be--some three miles from the little
+harbour, but he could not be sure, and the curve outward of the land hid
+the distant light.
+
+Once or twice he must have slept and dreamed in a fevered way, for he
+started into wakefulness with a cry of horror, to sit chilled and
+helpless for the rest of the night, trying to think out his future, but
+in a confused, dreamy way that left him where he had started at the
+first.
+
+As day broke he knew exactly where he was, recollecting the rock as one
+to which he had before now rowed with one of the fishermen, the deep
+chasms at its base being a favourite resort of conger.  Hard by were the
+two zorns to which they had made the excursion that day, and searched
+for specimens for his father's hobby--that day when he had overbalanced
+himself and fallen in.
+
+Those zorns! either of those caves would form a hiding-place.
+
+"That is certain to be seen," he said bitterly; and with the feeling
+upon him that even then some glass might be directed toward the isolated
+rock on which he sat, a hundred yards from the cliff, in a part where
+the shore was never bared even at the lowest tides, he began to lower
+himself into the deep water to swim ashore and climb up the face of the
+cliff in search of some hiding-place.
+
+He was bitterly cold and longing for the sunshine, so that he might gain
+a little warmth for his chilled limbs; and under the circumstances it
+seemed in his half-dried condition painful in the extreme to plunge into
+the water again.
+
+Half in he held on by the side of the barnacle-covered rock, and scanned
+the face of the cliff, nearly perpendicular facing there, and seeming to
+offer poor foothold unless he were daring in the extreme.
+
+He was too weak and weary to attempt it, and he turned his eyes to the
+right with no better success.
+
+"Better give up," he said bitterly.  "I couldn't do it now."
+
+As he gazed to his left the rock, however, seemed more practicable.
+There was a chasm there, up which it would certainly be possible to
+climb, and, feeling more hopeful, he was about to make the attempt, when
+a flush of excitement ran through him.  There in full view, not fifty
+yards to the left, was the zigzag water-way up which they had sent the
+boat that day toward the narrow hole at the foot of the cliff, the
+little entrance to the cavern into which he had swum, and there sat for
+his own amusement, startling the occupants of the boat.
+
+"The very place!" he thought.  "No one would find me there."
+
+His heart began to throb, and a warm glow seemed to run through his
+chilled limbs as, carefully picking his time, he swam amongst the waving
+seaweed to the narrow channel, and then in and out, as he had gone on
+that bright sunny day which seemed to him now as if it was far away in
+the past, when he was a careless, thoughtless boy, before he had become
+a wretched, hunted man.
+
+The sun, little by little, rose above the sea and flooded the face of
+the rocks; the black water became amethystine and golden, and the
+mysterious gasping and moaning sounds of the current were once more the
+playful splashings of the waves as they leaped up the empurpled rocks
+and fell in glittering cascades.  It was morning, glorious morning once
+again, and the black, frowning cliffs of the terrible night were now
+hope-inspiring in their hanging wreaths of clustering ivy and golden
+stars.
+
+The swell bore him on, and he rode easily to the mouth of the cave, a
+low rift now that was nearly hidden when a wave ran up, and when it
+retired not more than a yard high.  And, as he recalled the day when he
+swam in, his hopes rose higher, for even if careful search were made it
+was not likely that any one would venture into such a place as that.
+Then, as he held on by a piece of rock at the mouth, he hesitated, for
+strange whispering sounds and solemn gurgling came out as he peered in.
+Where he clung, with his shoulders above the water, all was now bright
+sunshine: beneath that rough arch all was weird and dark, and it was not
+until he had felt how possible it was that he might be seen that he gave
+a frightened glance in the direction of the harbour, and then, drawing a
+long breath, waited for the coming of a wave, lowering himself down at
+the right moment, and allowing the water to bear him in.
+
+He must have glided in, riding, as it were, on that wave some twenty or
+thirty yards, when, after a hissing, splashing, and hollow echoing
+noise, as a heavy breath of pent-up air, like the expiration of some
+creature struck upon his face, he felt that he was being drawn back.
+
+The rugged sides of the place, after his hands had glided over the
+clinging sea-anemones for a few moments, gave him a firm hold, and as
+the wave passed out he found bottom beneath his feet, and waded on in
+the darkness with a faint shadow thrown by the light at the mouth before
+him.
+
+The place opened out right and left, and as his eyes grew more used to
+the gloom he found himself in a rugged chamber rising many feet above
+his head and continuing in a narrow rift right on into the darkness.
+Where he stood the water was about three feet deep, and his feet rested
+on soft sand, while, as he continually groped along sidewise, he found
+the water shallowed.  Then another wave rushed in, darkening the place
+slightly, and it seemed to pass him, and to go on and on into the depths
+of the narrow rift onward, and return.  The tide he knew was falling, so
+that some hours must elapse before there was any clanger of his being
+shut in and deprived of air, while there was the possibility of the
+cavern being secure in that respect, and remaining always sufficiently
+open for him to breathe.  But there were other dangers.  There might be
+enough air, but too much water, and at the next tide he might be shut in
+and drowned.  Then there was starvation staring him in the face.  But on
+the other side there was a balance to counteract all this; he had found
+sanctuary, and as long as he liked to make this place his refuge he felt
+that he would be safe.
+
+The waves came and went, always pursuing their way along a rift-like
+channel inward, while he cautiously groped his way along to the left
+into the darkness, with the water shallowing, and his hands as he went
+on, bent nearly double, splashing in the water or feeling the rough,
+rocky wall, which at times he could not reach, on account of the masses
+projecting at the foot.
+
+The place was evidently fairly spacious, and minute by minute, as more
+of the outer sunshine penetrated, and his eyes grew accustomed to the
+place, it became filled with a dim greenish light, just sufficient to
+show him the dripping roof about ten feet above him, while all below was
+black.
+
+All at once, as he waded in with the water now to his knees, his hands
+touched something wet, cold, and yielding, and he started back in
+horror, with the splashing noise he made echoing strangely from the
+roof.
+
+For the moment his imagination conjured up the form of some hideous
+sea-monster, which must make the zorn its home, but once more sense and
+experience of the coast told him that the creature he had touched must
+be a seal, and that the animal, probably more frightened than he was
+himself, had escaped now out into the open water.
+
+A couple of yards farther and he was on dry sand, while, on feeling
+about, he found that the side of the cave had been reached, and that he
+could climb up over piled-up rocks heaped with sand till he could touch
+the roof.
+
+For some few minutes, as he stood there with the water streaming from
+him, he could not make out whether the heaped-up sand which filled in
+the rifts among the rocks was thoroughly dry or only lately left by the
+tide, but at last, feeling convinced that no water, save such as might
+have dripped from the roof, could have touched it, he carefully explored
+it with his hands till he found a suitable place, where he could sit
+down and rest.
+
+He was so near the roof that the sandy spot he selected seemed to be
+more suitable for reclining than sitting, and, lying down, chilled to
+the very marrow, he tried to think, but could only get his thoughts to
+dwell upon the rushing in of the waves as he watched them coming along
+what seemed to be a broad beam of light, and go on and on past where he
+lay right into a dimly-seen rift to his left.
+
+He was cold, hungry, and wretched.  A feeling of utter hopelessness and
+despair seemed to rob him of the power to act and think.  His wet
+clothes hung to him, and it was not till he had lain there some time
+that the thought occurred to him to try and wring out some of the water.
+This he at last did, and then lay down to think once more.
+
+He had not so much difficulty in making out the shape of the place now,
+but it presented few differences from the many rifts in the rocks which
+he had examined when boating.  There were dimly-seen shell-fish on the
+sides, scarce specimens such as would at one time have gladdened his
+father's heart, just visible by the opening, which grew brighter and
+brighter as the tide went down, and the entrance broadened till a new
+dread assailed him, and that was that the place would be so easy of
+access that he would be sought for and found.
+
+The bitter, chilled sensation seemed to abate somewhat now, but he was
+tortured by hunger and thirst.  Every louder lap or splash of the waves
+made him start and try to make out the shadow of a coming boat, but
+these frights passed off, leaving him trying still to think of the
+future and what he should do.
+
+How beautiful the water seemed!  That glistening band where the light
+fell, and was cut on either side by a band of inky blackness, while the
+light was thrown from the water in curious reflections on the glistening
+rock, which seemed to be covered with a frosted metal of a dazzling
+golden green.
+
+He could think of that, and of the amethystine water which ran on
+through what was evidently a deep channel, into the far depths of the
+cave, along which, in imagination, he followed it on and on right into
+the very bowels of the earth, a long, strange journey of curve and
+zigzag, with the water ever rushing; and gurgling on, and the noise
+growing fainter and fainter till it was just a whisper, then the merest
+breath, and then utter darkness and utter silence.
+
+The excitement and exhaustion of the past night were playing their part
+now, and Harry Vine lay utterly unconscious of everything around.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter III.
+
+THE HORROR IN THE ZORN.
+
+"Yes!  What is it?  Aunt Marguerite ill?"  Harry Vine started up,
+listening.  "Did any one call?"
+
+There was no reply, and he sat there listening, still with the
+impression strong upon him that he had heard some one knock at his
+bedroom door and call him by name.
+
+Then a curious sense of confusion came over him as he tried to make out
+what it meant.  His head was hot, but his hands were cold, and he felt
+that he ought to know something which constantly eluded his mental
+grasp.
+
+Land--rock--water running, gurgling, and splashing, and utter darkness.
+Where was he?  What did it all mean?
+
+For a long time the past was a blank.  Then, as he sat with his hands
+pressed to his head, staring wildly before him, it all came back like a
+flash--his trouble, the escape, the long swim, and his taking refuge in
+this cave.
+
+Then he must have slept all day, and it was now night, or else the tide
+had risen above the mouth of the entrance, and the water was slowly
+rising to strangle him, and, Heaven have mercy upon him, there was no
+escape!
+
+He began to creep down slowly toward the water, determined to swim with
+the next retiring wave, and try to reach the shore.  Even if he drowned
+in the effort it would be better than sitting there in that horrible
+cave, waiting for a certain death.
+
+But he found that comparatively he had to descend some distance before
+he could feel the water, and as he touched it with his extended hand, he
+fancied that he could detect a gleam of light.
+
+For a long time he could not convince himself that it was not fancy, but
+at last he was sure that there was a faint reflection as from a star
+whose light struck obliquely in.  Then the mouth of the cave was open
+still, and he could swim out if he wished.  But did he wish?
+
+He felt about, and in a short time could distinguish by the sense of
+touch how high the tide had risen, and that it had not been within a
+couple of feet of where he had lain, where the sand was quite warm
+still.  He too was dry, and therefore it must be night, and he had been
+plunged in a state of stupor for many hours.  Suddenly a thought struck
+him.
+
+He had a match-box in his pocket, a little tight-fitting, silver
+match-box, which held a few cigar-lights.  That match-box was inside his
+cigar-case, and both fitted so tightly that the water might have been
+kept out.  A light, if only for a few moments, would convince him of his
+position, and then there were his cigars.  He was ravenously hungry now,
+and if he smoked that would perhaps dull the sensation.
+
+He drew out his cigar-case and opened it, and took out a cigar.  This
+was dry comparatively; and as with trembling fingers he felt the little
+silver case, he wondered whether it closed tightly enough to keep out
+the water.
+
+He took out a match.  It felt dry, and the box was quite warm, but when
+he gave the match one rub on the sand-faced end, he obtained nothing but
+a faint line of light.
+
+He tried again and again, but in vain; and hesitated about testing
+another match till some hours had passed.
+
+He could not resist the temptation, and taking another of the frail
+waxen tapers, he struck it sharply, and to his great delight it emitted
+a sharp, crackling sound.  Another stroke and it flashed out, and there
+beamed steadily a tiny, clear flame which lit up the place, revealing
+that it was just such a zorn as his touch and imagination had painted,
+while the water was about a couple of feet below where he knelt on the
+sand, and--
+
+The young man uttered a wild cry of horror, the nearly extinct match
+fell from his fingers, and burned out sputtering on the wet sands at his
+feet.
+
+His first effort was to crawl right away as high up as possible, and
+there, shuddering and confused, he sat, or rather crouched, gazing down
+beyond where the match had fallen.
+
+At times he could see a tiny, wandering point of light in the water,
+which gradually faded out, and after this seemed to reappear farther
+away, but otherwise all was black and horrible once more.  More than
+once he was tempted to walk down into the water and swim out, but in his
+half-delirious, fevered state he shrank from doing this, and waited
+there in the darkness, suffering agonies till, after what seemed to be
+an interminable time, there was a faint, pearly light in the place,
+which gradually grew and grew till it became opalescent, then glowing,
+and he knew that the sun had risen over the sea.
+
+Half frantic with horror, a sudden resolve came upon him.  There was so
+strong a light now in the cavern that he could dimly see the object
+which had caused him so much dread, an object which he had touched when
+he first waded in, and imagined to be a seal.
+
+Trembling with excitement, he crept down to the water's edge, waded in
+to his knees, and in haste, forcing himself now to act, he drew from
+where it lay entangled among the rocks the body of a drowned man, the
+remains of one of the brave fellows who had been lost at the wreck of
+Van Heldre's vessel.  The body was but slightly wedged in, just as it
+had been floated in by a higher tide than usual, and left on the far
+side of some pieces of rock when the water fell, but had not since risen
+high enough to float it out.
+
+The horrifying object yielded easily enough as he drew it away along the
+surface, and he was about to wade and swim with it to the mouth, when he
+stopped short, for a sudden thought occurred to him.
+
+It was a horrible thought, but in his excitement he did not think of
+that, for in the dim light he could see enough to show him that it was
+the body of a young man of about his own physique, still clothed and
+wearing a rough pea-jacket.
+
+Disguise--a means of evading justice--the opportunity for commencing
+anew and existing till his crime had been forgotten, and then some day
+making himself known to those who thought him dead.
+
+"They think me dead now," he muttered, excitedly.  "They must.  They
+shall."
+
+Without pausing for further thought, and without feeling now the
+loathsome nature of the task, he quickly stripped the pea-jacket and
+rough vest from the dead form, and trembling with excitement now in
+place of fear, tore off his own upper garments, pausing for a few
+moments to take out pocket-book and case and cigars, but only to empty
+out the latter, thrust the book and case back, and at the end of a few
+minutes he was standing in shirt and trousers, the rough jacket and vest
+lying on the sands, and the form of the drowned sailor tightly buttoned
+in the dry garments just put on.
+
+Harry stood trembling for a few minutes, shrinking from achieving his
+task.  Then with the full knowledge that the body if borne out of the
+cave would be swept here and there by the current, perhaps for days, and
+finally cast ashore not many miles away, he softly waded into the water,
+drew the waif of the sea along after him, right away to the mouth of the
+cave, where he cautiously peered out, and made well sure that no
+fishermen were in sight before swimming with his ghastly burden along
+the zigzag channel, out beyond the rocks, where, after a final thrust,
+he saw the current bear it slowly away before he returned shuddering
+into the cave, and then landed on the dry sand to crawl up and crouch
+there.
+
+"They think me dead," he said in a husky whisper; "let them find that,
+and be sure."
+
+He was silent for a time, and then as the thoughts of the past flooded
+his soul, he burst into a wild fit of sobbing.
+
+"Home--sister--Madelaine," he moaned, "gone, gone for ever!  Better that
+I had died; better that I was dead!"
+
+But the horror was no longer there, and in a short time he roused up
+from his prostrate condition half wild and faint with hunger.
+
+After a few minutes' search he found a couple of his cigars lying where
+he had thrown them on the sand, and lighting one, he tried to dull the
+agony of famine by smoking hard.
+
+The effect was little, and he rose from where he was seated and began to
+feel about the shelves of the rock for limpets, a few of which he
+scraped from their conical shells and ate with disgust; but they did
+something towards alleviating his hunger, and seemed to drive away the
+strange, half-delirious feeling which came over him from time to time,
+making him look wildly round and wonder whether this was all some
+dreadful dream.
+
+About mid-day he heard voices and the beating of oars, when, wading
+towards the opening, he stood listening, and was not long in convincing
+himself that the party was in search of him, while a word or two that he
+heard spoken made him think that the party must have picked up the body
+of the drowned sailor.
+
+The voices and the sound of the oars died away, and in the midst of the
+deep silence he crept nearer and peered out to be aware that a couple of
+boats were passing about a quarter of a mile out, while from their
+hailing some one, it seemed that a third boat, invisible to the
+fugitive, was coming along nearer in.
+
+He crept back into the semi-darkness and listened with his ear close to
+the water till, after a time, as he began to conclude that this last
+boat must have gone back, and he wondered again and again whether the
+drifting body had been found, he heard voices once more, every word
+coming now with marvellous clearness.
+
+"No, sir, only a bit of a crevice."
+
+"Does it go far in?"
+
+"Far in, Mr Leslie, sir?  Oh, no.  Should waste time by going up there.
+You can see right up to the mouth, and there's nothing."
+
+"But the current sets in there."
+
+"Yes, sir, and comes out round that big rock yonder.  Deal more likely
+place for him to ha' been washed up farther on."
+
+"Leslie, and in search of me," said Harry to himself as the boat passed
+by.  "Yes; they do believe I'm dead."
+
+That day dragged wearily on with the occupant of the cave, tossed by
+indecision from side to side till the shadow began to deepen, when,
+unable to bear his sufferings longer, he crept out of the opening with
+the full intent of climbing the cliff, and throwing himself on the mercy
+of one of the cottagers, if he could find no other means of getting
+food.
+
+The tide was low, and he was standing hesitating as to which way to go,
+when he turned cold with horror, for all at once he became aware of the
+fact that not fifty yards away there was a figure stooping down with a
+hand resting on the rock, peering into an opening as if in search of
+him.
+
+His first instinct was to dart back into the cavern, but in the dread
+that the slightest movement or sound would attract attention, he
+remained fixed to the spot, while the figure waded knee-deep to another
+place, and seemed to be searching there, for an arm was plunged deeply
+into the water, a rope raised, and after a good deal of hauling, a
+dripping basket was drawn out and a door opened at the side, and
+flapping its tail loudly, a good-sized lobster was brought out and
+deposited in the basket the figure bore upon her back.
+
+"Mother Perrow!" exclaimed Harry beneath his breath, and then an excited
+mental debate took place.  Dare he trust her, or would she betray him?
+
+Fear was mastering famine, when Poll Perrow, after rebaiting her lobster
+pot, was about to throw it back into deep water, but dropped it with a
+splash, and stood staring hard at the shivering man.
+
+"Master Harry!" she exclaimed, and, basket on back, she came through
+water and over rock toward him with wonderful agility for a woman of her
+age.  "Why, my dear lad," she cried, in a voice full of sympathy, "is it
+you?"
+
+"Yes, Poll," he said tremulously, "it is I."
+
+"And here have I been trying to find you among the rocks while I looked
+at my crab pots.  For I said to myself, `If Master Harry's washed up
+anywhere along the coast, there's nobody more like to find him than me.'
+And you're not dead after all."
+
+"No, Poll Perrow," he said agitatedly, "I'm not dead."
+
+"Come on back home," she cried.  "I am glad I found you.  Master Vine
+and Miss Louise, oh, they will be glad!"
+
+"Hush, woman!" he gasped, "not a word.  No one must know you have seen
+me."
+
+"Lor', and I forgot all about that," she said in a whisper.  "More I
+mustn't.  There's the police and Master Leslie and everybody been out in
+boats trying to find you washed up, you know."
+
+"And now you've found me, and will go and get the reward," he said
+bitterly.
+
+"I don't know nothing about no reward," said the woman, staring hard at
+him.  "Why, where's your jacket and weskut?  Aren't you cold?"
+
+"Cold?  I'm starving," he cried.
+
+"You look it.  Here, what shall I do?  Go and get you something to eat?"
+
+"Yes--no!" he cried bitterly.  "You'll go and tell the police."
+
+"Well, I am ashamed o' you, Master Harry, that I am."
+
+"But it was all a misfortune, Poll Perrow, an accident.  I am not
+guilty.  I'm not indeed."
+
+"I warn't talking about that," said the woman surlily, "but 'bout you
+saying I should tell the police.  It's likely, arn't it?"
+
+"Then you will not tell--you will not betray me?"
+
+"Yah! are it likely, Master Harry?  Did I tell the pleece 'bout Mark
+Nackley when he was in trouble over the smuggling and hid away?"
+
+"But I am innocent; I am indeed."
+
+"All right, my lad, all right, Master Harry.  If you says so, that's
+'nough for me.  Here, I'll go and tell Master Vine I've found you."
+
+"No, no; he thinks I'm dead."
+
+"Well, everybody does; and I said it was a pity such a nice, handsome
+young lad should be drowned like that.  I told my Liza so."
+
+"My father must not know."
+
+"Miss Louie, then?"
+
+"No, no.  You must keep it a secret from everybody, unless you want to
+see me put in prison."
+
+"Now is that likely, my lad?  Here, I've got it.  I'll go and tell
+Master Luke Vine."
+
+"Worst of all.  No; not a word to a soul."
+
+"All right, Master Harry; I can keep my mouth shut when I try.  But what
+are you going to do?"
+
+"I don't know yet.  I'm hiding yonder."
+
+"What! in the little seal zorn?"
+
+"Yes.  Don't betray me, woman, pray!"
+
+"Betray you, Master Harry?  You know I won't."
+
+"You will not tell a soul?"
+
+"You tell me not to tell nobody, and I won't say a word even to my Liza.
+But they're seeking for you everywhere--dead.  Oh! my dear lad, shake
+hands.  I am glad you warn't drowned."
+
+The warm grasp of the rough woman's coarse hand and the genuine sympathy
+in her eyes were too much for Harry Vine.  Weak from mental trouble--
+more weak from hunger--manhood, self-respect, everything passed from him
+as he sank upon one of the hard pieces of weedy rock; and as the woman
+bent over him and laid her hands upon his shoulder, he flung his arms
+about her, let his head sink upon her breast, and cried like a child.
+
+"Why, my poor, poor boy!" she said tenderly, with her hard wooden stay
+busk creaking in front, and her maund basket creaking behind, "don't--
+don't cry like that, or--or--or--there, I knew I should," she sobbed, as
+her tears came fast, and her voice sounded broken and hoarse.  "There,
+what an old fool I am!  Now, look here; you want to hide for a bit, just
+as if it was brandy, or a bit o' lace."
+
+"Yes, Poll; yes."
+
+"Then wait till it's dark, and then come on to my cottage."
+
+"No, no," he groaned; "I dare not."
+
+"And you that cold and hungry?"
+
+"I've tasted nothing but the limpets since that night."
+
+"Limpets!" she cried, with a tone of contempt in her voice, "why, they
+ain't even good for bait.  And there are no mussels here.  Look here, my
+dear lad, I've got a lobster.  No, no; it's raw.  Look here; you go back
+to where you hide, and I'll go and get you something to eat, and be back
+as soon as I can."
+
+"You will?" he said pitifully.  "Course I will."
+
+"And you'll keep my secret?"
+
+"Now don't you say that again, my lad, because it aggravates me.  There,
+you go back and wait, and if I don't come again this side of ten
+o'clock, Poll Perrow's dead!"
+
+She bent down, kissed his cold forehead, and hurried back among the
+rocks, splashing and climbing, till he saw her begin to ascend the
+narrow rift in the cliff; and in a few minutes the square basket, which
+looked like some strange crustacean of monstrous size creeping out of
+the sea and up the rocks, disappeared in the gathering gloom; and Harry
+Vine, half-delirious from hunger, crept slowly back into the cave, half
+wondering whether it was not all a dream.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter IV.
+
+THE FRIEND IN ADVERSITY.
+
+It was a dream from which he was aroused three hours later--a wild dream
+of a banquet served in barbaric splendour, but whose viands seemed to be
+snatched from his grasp each time he tried to satisfy the pangs which
+seemed to gnaw him within.  He had fallen into a deep sleep, in which he
+had remained conscious of his hunger, though in perfect ignorance of
+what had taken place around.
+
+His first thought was of capture, for his head was clear now, and he saw
+a rough hand as he gazed up wildly at a dim horn lantern.
+
+The dread was but momentary, for a rough voice full of sympathy said--
+
+"There, that's right.  Sit up, my dear, and keep the blankets round you.
+They're only wet at one corner.  I did that bringing them in.  There,
+drink that!"
+
+He snatched at the bottle held to him, and drank with avidity till it
+was drawn away.
+
+"That'll put some life into you, my dear; it's milk, and brandy too.
+Now eat that.  It's only bread and hake, but it was all I could manage
+now.  To-morrow I'll bring you something better, or I'll know the reason
+why."
+
+Grilled fish still warm, and pleasant homemade bread.  It was a feast to
+the starving man; and he sat there with a couple of blankets sending
+warmth into his chilled limbs, while the old fishwoman sat and talked
+after she had placed the lantern upon the sand.
+
+"Let them go on thinking so," said Harry at last.  "Better that I should
+be dead to every one I know."
+
+"Now, Master Harry, don't you talk like that.  You don't know what may
+happen next.  You're talking in the dark now.  When you wake up in the
+sunshine to-morrow morning you'll think quite different to this."
+
+"No," he said, "I must go right away; but I shall stay in hiding here
+for a few days first.  Will you bring me a little food from time to
+time, unknown to any one?"
+
+"Why of course I will, dear lad.  But why don't you put on your
+pea-jacket and weskit?  They is dry now."
+
+Harry shuddered as he glanced at the rough garments the woman was
+turning over.
+
+"Throw them here on the dry sand," he said hastily.  "I don't want them
+now."
+
+"There you are, then, dear lad," said the old woman, spreading out the
+drowned man's clothes; "p'r'aps they are a bit damp yet.  And now I must
+go.  There's what's left in the bottle, and there's a fried mackerel and
+the rest of the loaf.  That'll keep you from starving, and to-morrow
+night I'll see if I can't bring you something better."
+
+"And you'll be true to me?"
+
+"Don't you be afraid of that," said the old woman quietly, as Harry
+clasped her arm.
+
+"Why, you are quite wet," he said.
+
+"Wet!  Well, if you'll tell me how to get in there with the tide pretty
+high and not be wet I should like to know it.  Why, I had hard work to
+keep the basket out of the water, and one corner did go in."
+
+"And you'll have to wade out," said Harry thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, what of that?  How many times have I done the same to get
+alongside of a lugger after fish?  Drop o' salt water won't hurt me,
+Master Harry; I'm too well tanned for that."
+
+"I seem to cause trouble and pain to all I know," he said mournfully.
+
+"What's a drop o' water?" said the old woman with a laugh.  "Here, you
+keep that lantern up in the corner, so as nobody sees the light.
+There's another candle there, and a box o' matches; and now I'm going.
+Goodbye, dear lad."
+
+"Good-bye," he said, with a shudder; "I trust you, mind."
+
+"Trust me!  Why, of course you do.  Good-night."
+
+"One moment," said Harry.  "What is the time?"
+
+"Lor', how particular people are about the time when they've got naught
+to do.  Getting on for twelve, I should say.  There, good-night.  Don't
+you come and get wet too."
+
+She stepped boldly into the water, and waded on with the depth
+increasing till it was up to her shoulders, and then Harry Vine watched
+her till she disappeared, and the yellow light of the lantern shone on
+the softly heaving surface, glittering with bubbles, which broke and
+flashed.  Then, by degrees, the rushing sound made by the water died
+out, and the lit-up place seemed more terrible than the darkness of the
+nights before.
+
+The time glided on; now it was day, now it was night; but day or night,
+that time seemed to Harry Vine one long and terrible punishment.  He
+heard the voices of searchers in boats and along the cliffs overhead,
+and sat trembling with dread lest he should be discovered; and with but
+one thought pressing ever--that as soon as Poll Perrow could tell him
+that the heat of the search was over, he must escape to France, not in
+search of the family estates, but to live in hiding, an exile, till he
+could purge his crime.
+
+After a while he got over the terrible repugnance, and put on the rough
+pea-jacket and vest which had lain upon a dry piece of the rock, for the
+place was chilly, and in his inert state he was glad of the warmth;
+while as the days slowly crept by, his sole change was the coming of the
+old fishwoman with her basket punctually, almost to the moment, night by
+night.
+
+He asked her no questions as to where she obtained the provender she
+brought for him, but took everything mechanically, and in a listless
+fashion, never even wondering how she could find him in delicacies as
+well as in freshly-cooked fish and homemade bread.  Wine and brandy he
+had, too, as much as he wished; and when there was none for him, it was
+Poll Perrow who bemoaned the absence, not he.
+
+"Poor boy!" she said to herself, "he wants it all badly enough, and he
+shall have what he wants somehow, and if my Liza don't be a bit more
+lib'ral, I'll go and help myself.  It won't be stealing."
+
+Several times over she had so much difficulty in obtaining supplies that
+she determined to try Madelaine and the Van Heldres; but her success was
+not great.
+
+"If he'd only let me tell 'em," she said, "it would be as easy as easy."
+But at the first hint of taking any one into their confidence, Harry
+broke out so fiercely in opposition that the old woman said no more.
+
+"No," he said; "I'm dead--they believe I'm dead.  Let them think so
+still.  Some day I may go to them and tell them the truth, but now let
+them think I'm dead."
+
+"Which they do now," said the old woman.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+She hesitated to tell him what had taken place, but he pressed her
+fiercely, and at last he sat trembling with horror and with great drops
+bedewing his brow as she told him of the finding of the body and what
+had followed.
+
+It was only what he had planned and looked for, but the fruition seemed
+too horrible to bear, and at last a piteous groan escaped from his
+breast.
+
+That night, after the old woman had gone, the food she had obtained from
+his old home remained untouched, and he lay there upon the sand
+listening to the sighing wind and the moaning and working of the waves,
+picturing the whole scene vividly--the finding of the body, the inquest,
+and the funeral.
+
+"_Yes_," he groaned again and again, "I am dead.  I pray God that I may
+escape now, forgotten and alone, to begin a new life."
+
+He pressed his clasped hands to his rugged brow, and thought over his
+wasted opportunities, the rejected happiness of his past youth, and
+there were moments when he was ready to curse the weak old woman who had
+encouraged him in the chimerical notions of wealth and title.  But all
+that passed off.
+
+"I ought to have known better," he said bitterly.  "Poor, weak old piece
+of vanity!  Poor Louise!  My sweet, true sister!  Father!" he groaned,
+"my indulgent, patient father!  Poor old honest, manly Van Heldre!
+Madelaine! my lost love!"  And then, rising to his knees for the first
+time since his taking refuge in the cave, he bowed himself down in body
+and spirit in a genuine heartfelt prayer of repentance, and for the
+forgiveness of his sin.
+
+One long, long communing in the gloom of that solemn place with his God.
+The hours glided on, and he still prayed, not in mere words, but in
+thought, in deep agony of spirit, for help and guidance in the future,
+and that he might live, and years hence return to those who had loved
+him and loved his memory, another man.
+
+The soft, pearly light of the dawn was stealing in through the narrow
+opening, and the faint querulous cry of a gull fell upon his ear, and
+seemed to arouse him to the knowledge that it was once more day--a day
+he spent in thinking out what he should do.
+
+Time glided slowly on, and a hundred plans had been conceived and
+rejected.  Poll Perrow came and went, never once complaining of the
+difficulties she experienced in supplying him and herself, and daily did
+her best to supply him with everything but money.  That was beyond her.
+
+And that was the real necessary now.  He must have money to enable him
+to reach London, and then France.  So long a time had elapsed, and there
+had been so terrible a finale to the episode, that he knew he might
+endeavour to escape unchallenged; and at last, after a long hesitancy
+and shrinking, and after feeling that there was only one to whom he
+could go and confide in, and who would furnish him with help, he finally
+made up his mind.
+
+It was a long process, a constant fight of many hours of a spirit
+weakened by suffering, till it was swayed by every coward dread which
+arose.  He tried to start a dozen times, but the heavier beat of a wave,
+the fall of a stone from the cliff, the splash made by a fish, was
+sufficient to send him shivering back; but at last he strung himself up
+to the effort, feeling that if he delayed longer he would grow worse,
+and that night poor old Poll Perrow reached the hiding-place after
+endless difficulties, to sit down broken-hearted and ready to sob
+wildly, as she felt that she must have been watched, and that in spite
+of all her care and secrecy her "poor boy" had been taken away.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter V.
+
+BROTHER--LOVER.
+
+Trembling, her eyes dilated with horror, Louise Vine stood watching the
+dimly-seen pleading face for some moments before her lips could form
+words, and her reason tell her that it was rank folly and superstition
+to stand trembling there.
+
+"Harry!" she whispered, "alone? yes."
+
+"Hah!" he ejaculated, and thrusting in his hands he climbed into the
+room.
+
+Louise gazed wildly at the rough-looking figure in sea-stained old
+pea-jacket and damaged cap, hair unkempt, and a hollow look in eye and
+cheek that, joined with the ghastly colourless skin, was quite enough to
+foster the idea that this was one risen from the grave.
+
+"Don't be scared," he said harshly, "I'm not dead after all."
+
+"Harry! my darling brother."
+
+That was all in words, but with a low, moaning cry Louise had thrown her
+soft arms about his neck and covered his damp cold face with her kisses,
+while the tears streamed down her cheeks.
+
+"Then there is some one left to--My darling sis!"  He began in a
+half-cynical way, but the genuine embrace was contagious, and clasping
+her to his breast, he had to fight hard to keep back his own tears and
+sobs as he returned her kisses.
+
+Then the fugitive's dread of the law and of discovery reasserted itself,
+and pushing her back, he said quickly--
+
+"Where is father?"
+
+"At Mr Van Heldre's.  Let me--"
+
+"Hush! answer my questions.  Where is Aunt Marguerite?"
+
+"Gone to bed, dear."
+
+"And the servants?"
+
+"In the kitchen.  They will not come without I ring.  But, Harry--
+brother--we thought you dead--we thought you dead."
+
+"Hush!  Louie, for Heaven's sake!  You'll ruin me," he whispered, as she
+burst into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing, so violent at times that he
+grew alarmed.
+
+"We thought you dead--we thought you dead."
+
+It was all she could say as she clung to him, and looked wildly from
+door to window and back.
+
+"Louie!" he whispered at last passionately, "I must escape.  Be quiet,
+or you will be heard."
+
+By a tremendous effort she mastered her emotion, and tightening her
+grasp upon him, she set her teeth hard, compressed her lips, and stood
+with contracted brow gazing in his eyes.
+
+"Now?" he said, "can you listen?"
+
+She nodded her head, and her wild eyes seemed so questioning, that he
+said quickly--
+
+"I can't tell you much.  You know I can swim well."
+
+She nodded silently.
+
+"Well, I rose after my dive and let the current carry me away till I
+swam ashore three miles away, and I've been in hiding in one of the
+zorns."
+
+"Oh, my brother!" she answered.
+
+"Waiting till it was safe to come out."
+
+"But, Harry!" she paused; "we--my father--we all believed you dead.  How
+could you be so--"
+
+She stopped.
+
+"Cruel?" he said firmly.  "Wouldn't it have been more cruel to be
+dragged off to prison and disgrace you more?"
+
+"But--"
+
+"Hush!  I tell you I have been in hiding.  They think me dead?"
+
+"Yes; they found you--"
+
+"Hush, I tell you.  I have no time to explain.  Let them go on thinking
+me dead."
+
+"But, Harry!" she cried; "my poor broken-hearted father--Madelaine."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" he said in a broken voice, "unless you want to drive
+me mad."
+
+He paused, for his face was working; but at last with a stamp he
+controlled his emotion.
+
+"Look here," he said hoarsely.  "I had no one to come to but you.  Will
+you help me?"
+
+"Harry!" she whispered reproachfully, as she clung to him more firmly.
+
+"Hah! that's better," he said.  "Now don't talk, only listen.  But are
+you sure that we shall not be overheard?"
+
+"Quite, dear; we are alone."
+
+"Then listen.  I have thought all this out.  I've been a blackguard; I
+did knock old Van Heldre down."
+
+Louise moaned.
+
+"But once more I tell you I'm not a thief.  I did not rob him, and I did
+not go to rob him.  I swear it."
+
+"I believe you, Harry," she whispered.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do."
+
+She nodded again, unable to speak, but clung to him spasmodically, for
+everything seemed to swim round before her eyes.
+
+"I am penniless.  There, that proves to you I did not rob poor old Van.
+I want money--enough to escape over to France--to get to London first.
+Then I shall change my name.  Don't be alarmed," he said tremblingly, as
+he felt Louise start.  "I shall give up the name of Vine, but I'm not
+going to call myself Des Vignes, or any of that cursed folly."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"All right, dear.  It made me mad to think of it all.  I've come to my
+senses now, and I'm going over the Channel to make a fresh start and to
+try and prove myself a man.  Some day when I've done this father shall
+know that I am alive, and perhaps then he may take me by the hand and
+forgive me."
+
+"Harry, let me send for him--let me tell him now."
+
+"No," said the young man sternly.
+
+"He loves you!  He will forgive you, and bless God for restoring you
+once more, as I do, my darling.  Oh, Harry, Harry!  My brother!"
+
+"Hush!" he whispered, with his voice trembling as he held her to him and
+stroked her face.  "Hush, sis, hush!"
+
+"Then I may send for him?"
+
+"No, no, no!" he cried fiercely.  "I am little better than a convict.
+He must not, he shall not know I am alive."
+
+"But, Harry, dearest--"
+
+"Silence!" he whispered angrily; "I came to you, my sister, for help.
+No, no, dear, I'm not cross; but you talk like a woman.  The dear old
+dad would forgive me, God bless him!  I know he would, just as you have,
+and fall on my neck and kiss me as--as--as--Ah!  Lou, Lou, Lou, my
+girl," he cried, fighting against his emotion, "the law will not be like
+your love.  You must help me to escape, at all events for a time."
+
+"And may I tell him where you are gone--my father and Maddy?"
+
+"Hush!" he cried, in so wild and strange a voice that she shrank from
+him.  "Do you want to unman me when I have planned my future, and then
+see me handcuffed and taken to gaol?  No: Harry Vine is dead.  Some day
+another man will come and ask the forgiveness he needs."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"But not this shivering, cowardly cur--a man, a true blameless man, whom
+it will take years to make.  Now, then, once more, will you help me, and
+keep my secret?"  Louise was silent for a few moments.  "Well, never
+mind, you must keep my secret, for after I am gone if you said you had
+seen me, people would tell you that you were mad."
+
+"I will help you, Harry, and keep your secret, dear--even," she added to
+herself, "if it breaks my heart."
+
+"That's right.  We've wasted too much time in talking as it is, and--"
+
+"But, Harry--Madelaine--she loves you."  He wrested himself from her
+violently, and stood with his hands pressed to his head.  A few moments
+before he had been firm and determined, but the agonised thought of
+Madelaine and of giving her up for ever had ended the fictitious
+strength which had enabled him to go so far.
+
+It was the result of his long agony shut up in that cave; and though he
+struggled hard he could do no more, but completely unnerved, trembling
+violently, and glancing wildly from time to time at the door and window,
+he sank at his sister's feet and clutched her knees.
+
+"Harry, Harry!" she whispered--she, the stronger now--"for Heaven's sake
+don't give way like that."
+
+"It's all over now.  I'm dead beat; I can do no more."
+
+"Then let me go to father; let me fetch him from Van Heldre's."
+
+"Yes," he moaned; "and while you are gone I'll go down to the end of the
+point and jump in.  This time I shall be too weak to swim."
+
+"Harry, don't talk like that!" she cried, embracing him, as she saw with
+horror the pitiable, trembling state in which he was.
+
+"I can't help it," he whispered as he clung to her now like a frightened
+child, and looked wildly at the door.  "You don't know what I've
+suffered, buried alive in that cave, and expecting the sea to come in
+and drown me.  It has been one long horror."
+
+"But, Harry, dear, you are safe now."
+
+"Safe?" he groaned; "yes, to be taken by the first policeman I meet, and
+locked up in gaol."
+
+"But, Harry!" she cried, his agitation growing contagious, "I have
+promised.  I will help you now.  I'll keep it a secret, if you think it
+best, dear.  Harry, for Heaven's sake be a man."
+
+"It's all over now," he groaned, "so better end it all.  I wish I was
+dead.  I wish I was dead."
+
+"But, Harry, dear," she whispered, trembling now as much as he, "tell me
+what to do."
+
+"I can't now," he said; "I'm too weak and broken.  All this has been so
+maddening that I'm like some poor wretch half killed by drink.  It's too
+late now."
+
+"No, no, Harry, dear.  It shall be our secret then.  Up, and be a man,
+my brave, true brother, and you shall go and redeem yourself.  Yes, I'll
+suffer it all hopefully, for the future shall make amends, dear.  You
+shall go across to France, and I will study my father's comfort, and
+pray nightly for you."
+
+"Too late," he moaned--"too late!"
+
+She looked at him wildly.  The long strain upon his nerves had been too
+great, and he was white as a sheet, and shaking violently.
+
+"Harry, dear, tell me what to do."
+
+"Let them take me," he said weakly.  "It's of no use."
+
+"Hush!" she said, full now of a wild desire to save him from disgrace
+and to aid him in his efforts to redeem the past.  "Let me think.  Yes:
+you want money."
+
+Full of the recollection of his former appeal, she took out her keys,
+opened a drawer, while he half knelt, half crouched upon the carpet.
+She had not much there, and, whispering to him to wait, she left the
+room, locking him in, and ran up to her chamber.
+
+Harry started as he heard the snap made by the lock; but he subsided
+again in a helpless state, and with the disease that had been hanging
+about waiting to make its grand attack gradually sapping its way.
+
+In five minutes Louise was back.
+
+"I have not much money," she whispered hastily; "but here are my watch,
+two chains, and all the jewels I have, dear.  They are worth a great
+deal."
+
+"Too late!" he moaned as he gazed up at her piteously, and for the
+moment he was delirious, as a sudden flush of fever suffused his cheeks.
+
+"It is not too late," she said firmly.  "Take them.  Now tell me what
+next to do."
+
+"What next?" he said vacantly.
+
+"Yes.  You must not stay here.  My father may return at any time.
+Brother--Harry--shall I get you some clothes?"
+
+"No--no," he said mournfully.  "I shall want no more clothes."
+
+"Harry!" she cried, taking his face between her hands, and drawing it
+round so that the light fell upon it; "are you ill?"
+
+"Ill? yes," he said feebly.  "I've felt it before--in the wet cave--
+fever, I suppose.  Lou, dear, is it very hard to die?"
+
+"Oh, what shall I do?" cried the agitated girl, half frantic now.
+"Harry, you are not very ill?"
+
+"Only sometimes," he said slowly, as he looked round.  "I seem to lose
+my head a bit, and then something seems to hold me back."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"Yes," he cried, starting up; "who called?  You, Louie, money--give me
+some money."
+
+"I gave you all I have, dear, and my jewels."
+
+"Yes, I forgot," he said huskily, as in a moment his whole manner had
+changed, and with feverish energy he felt for the trinkets she had given
+him.
+
+"You are ill, dear," she whispered tenderly.  "Would it not be better to
+let me fetch our father?"
+
+"I'd sooner die," he cried, catching her wrist.  "No.  He shall not
+know.  There, I can see clearly now.  That horrible weakness is always
+taking me now, and when it's on I feel as if I should kill myself."
+
+"Harry!"
+
+"Hush!  I know now.  We must go before he comes back."
+
+"We?" she said aghast.
+
+"Yes, we.  I'm not fit to be alone.  You must come with me, Lou, and
+help me.  If I go alone I shall go mad."
+
+"Oh, Harry! my darling brother."
+
+"Yes," he cried in a hoarse whisper; "I know I shall.  It's too horrible
+to live alone, as I've been living.  You must come with me and save me--
+from myself--from everybody.  Why do you look at me like that?"
+
+He caught her by the shoulder, and glared at her with a long, fierce
+stare.
+
+"I--I could not leave home, Harry," she said faintly.
+
+"You must, you shall," he cried, "unless you want me to really die."
+
+"But my father, dear?"
+
+"Quick! write!" he said with the feverish energy which frightened her;
+and dragging open the blotter on a side table, he pointed to a chair.
+
+"He is mad--he is mad," she wailed to herself, as, in obedience to a
+will far stronger at that moment than her own, she sat down and took up
+pen and paper.
+
+"Write," he said hoarsely.
+
+"Write, Harry?"
+
+"Yes, quick!"
+
+In a horror of dread as she read her brother's wild looks, and took in
+his feverish semi-delirium, lest he should carry out a threat which
+chilled her, she dipped her pen and waited as, after an evident struggle
+with a clouding intellect, Harry said quickly--
+
+"Dear father, I am forced by circumstances to leave home.  Do not grieve
+for me, I am well and happy; and no matter what you hear, do not attempt
+to follow me.  If you do you will bring sorrow upon yourself, and ruin
+upon one I love.  Good-bye; some day all will be cleared up.  Till then,
+your loving daughter, Louise."
+
+"Harry!" she sobbed, as she laid down the pen, and gazed at the
+tear-blurred paper.  "You cannot mean this.  I dare not--I could not
+go."
+
+"Very well," he said coldly.  "I told you it was too late.  It does not
+matter now."
+
+"Oh," she panted, "you are not reasonable.  I have given you money.  Go
+as you said and hide somewhere.  You are weak and ill now."
+
+"Yes," he said, in a voice which wrung her heart.  "I am weak and ill
+now."
+
+"A little rest, dear, and the knowledge that you have the means of
+escaping will make you more calm."
+
+He looked at her with his eyes so full of wild anger that she half
+shrank from him, but his face changed.
+
+"Poor little sis!" he said tenderly; "I frighten you.  Look at me.  Am I
+fit to go away alone?  I know--I feel that at any moment I may break
+down and go off my head amongst strangers."
+
+She looked at him wildly, and as she stood trembling there in a state of
+agitation which overset her generally calm balance, she read in his eyes
+that he was speaking the truth.
+
+"Put that note in an envelope and direct it," he said in a slow,
+measured way, and mechanically, and as if for the time being his will
+was again stronger than hers, she obeyed him, dropped the letter on the
+table, and then stood gazing from it to her brother and back again.
+
+"It's hard upon you," he said, with his hand to his head, as if he could
+think more clearly then, "hard upon the poor old dad.  But it seems my
+only chance, Lou, my girl."
+
+Father--brother--what should she do?
+
+"I can feel it now," he said drearily.  "There, I'm cool now.  It's
+lying in that cold, wet cave, and the horrors I've gone through.  I've
+got something coming on--had touches of it before--in the nights," he
+went on slowly and heavily; "p'r'aps it 'll kill me--better if it does."
+
+"No, no, Harry.  Stay and let me nurse you here.  We could keep it a
+secret from every one, and--"
+
+"Hold your tongue!" he said fiercely.  "I might live--if I went away--
+where I could feel--I was safe.  I can't face the old man again.  It
+would kill me.  There, it's too much to ask you--what's that?"
+
+Louise started to the door.  Harry dashed to the window, and his manner
+was so wild and excited that she darted after him to draw him away.
+
+"Nothing, dear, it is your fancy.  There, listen, there is no one
+coming."
+
+He looked at her doubtingly, and listened as she drew him from the
+window.
+
+"I thought I heard them coming," he said.  "Some one must have seen me
+crawl up here.  Coming to take me--to gaol."
+
+"No, no, dear.  You are ill, and fancy all this.  Now come and listen to
+me.  It would be so wild, so cruel if I were to leave my home like this.
+Harry! be reasonable, dear.  Your alarm is magnified because you are
+ill.  Let me--no, no, don't be angry with me--let me speak to my
+father--take him into our confidence, and he will help you."
+
+"No," he said sternly.
+
+"Let me make him happy by the knowledge that you are alive."
+
+"And come upon him like a curse," said Harry, as there was a tap at the
+door, which neither heard in the excitement of the moment, for, eager to
+help him, and trembling lest he should, in the excited state he was, go
+alone, Louise threw herself upon her knees at her brother's feet.
+
+"Be guided by me, dearest," she sobbed, in a low pained voice.  "You
+know how I love you, how I would die if it were necessary to save you
+from suffering; but don't--pray don't ask me to go away from poor father
+in such a way as this."
+
+As she spoke a burst of hysteric sobbing accompanied her words; and
+then, as she raised her tear-blinded eyes, she saw that which filled her
+with horror.  Uttering a faint cry, she threw herself before her
+brother, as if to shield him from arrest.
+
+Duncan Leslie was standing in the open doorway, and at her action he
+took a stride fiercely into the room.
+
+Harry's back was half turned toward him, but he caught a glimpse of the
+figure in the broad mirror of an old dressoir, and with one sweep of his
+arm dashed the light over upon the floor.
+
+The heavy lamp fell with a crash of broken glass, and as Louise stood
+clinging to her brother, there was a dead silence as well as darkness in
+the room.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter VI.
+
+THE PLANT AUNT MARGUERITE GREW.
+
+As Duncan Leslie walked up the steep path leading to the old granite
+house he could not help thinking of the absurdity of his act, and
+wondering whether Louise Vine and her father would see how much easier
+it would have been for him to call at Van Heldre's.
+
+"Can't help it," he said.  "The old man must think what he likes.  Laugh
+at me in his sleeve?  Well, let him.  I shan't be the first man in love
+who has been laughed at."
+
+"In love, man, in love!  How stupid it sounds; and I suppose I am weak."
+
+"Human nature!" he said after a pause; and he walked very fast.
+
+Then he began to walk very slowly, as a feeling of hesitation came over
+him, and he asked himself whether the Vines would not feel his coming as
+an intrusion, and be annoyed.
+
+"She can't be annoyed," he said half aloud.  "She may think it
+unfortunate, but she knows I love her, and she is too true and sweet a
+woman to be hard upon me."
+
+With the full intention of going boldly to the house, and trying to act
+in a frank, manly way, letting Louise see that he was going to be
+patient and earnest, he again strode on rapidly, but only to hesitate
+again and stop by one of the great masses of rock which occurred here
+and there along the shelf-like slope cut from the side of the towering
+hill.
+
+Here he rested his arms upon the shaggy stone and stood gazing out to
+sea, the darkness looking wonderfully transparent and pure.  From where
+he stood the harbour was at his feet, and he could see a spark-like
+light here and there in cottage or boat, and a dull glow from some open
+doorway on the opposite side of the estuary.
+
+The red light at the end of the east pier sent a ruddy stain out to sea,
+and there was another light farther out just rocking gently to and fro,
+and as it caught his eye he shuddered, for it shone out softly, as did
+the light of the lugger on the night when Harry Vine took that terrible
+leap.
+
+"Poor weak boy," said Leslie to himself.  And then, "The more need for
+her to have one in whom she can confide; only I must be patient--
+patient."
+
+He turned with a sigh, and began to walk back, for in his indecision the
+feeling was in him strong now that a call would be an intrusion, and
+that he must be content to wait.  By the time he was fifty yards down
+the path the desire to see Louise again was stronger than ever, and he
+walked back to the stone, leaned over it, and stood thinking.  After a
+few minutes he turned sharply round and looked, for he heard a heavy
+step as of a man approaching, but directly after, as he remained
+quiescent, he just made out that it was not a man's step, but that of a
+sturdy fisherwoman, who seemed in the gloom to resemble Poll Perrow, but
+he could not be sure, and forgot the incident as soon as she passed.  By
+the time the steps had died out, Duncan Leslie's mind was fully made up;
+and, following the woman, he walked firmly up to the gateway, entered,
+and, reaching the hall door, which stood open, he rang.  He waited for
+some time, listening to a low murmur of voices in the dining-room, and
+then rang again.  There was no reply, consequent upon the fact that Liza
+was at the back gate, to which she had been summoned by her mother, who
+had come up in trouble, and was asking her questions whose bearing she
+could not understand.
+
+Leslie's courage and patience began to fail, but he still waited, and
+then at last changed colour, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, for
+there was a peculiarity in the conversation going on in the dining-room,
+and it seemed to him that some one was agitated and in pain.
+
+He turned away so as to force himself not to hear, feeling that he was
+an interloper, and then, in spite of himself, he returned to find that
+the sounds had grown louder, and as if involuntarily agitated and
+troubled more than he would have cared to own, he rang again and then
+entered the hall.
+
+He hesitated for a few moments, and then certain from the voices that
+there was something strange, and divining wrongly or rightly from the
+tones of one of the voices--a voice which thrilled him as he stood there
+trembling with excitement--that the woman he loved needed help, he threw
+aside all hesitation, and turned the handle of the door.
+
+The words which fell upon his ear, the scene he saw of Louise kneeling
+at some strange, rough-looking man's feet, sent the blood surging up to
+his brain, rendering him incapable of calm thought, and turned the
+ordinarily patient, deliberative man into a being wrought almost to a
+pitch of madness.
+
+It did not occur to him that he was an intruder, and that he had no
+right to make such a demand, but taking a stride forward, he exclaimed--
+
+"Louise! who is this man?" as the lamp was swept from the table, and
+they were in darkness.
+
+For a few moments no one spoke, and Louise stood clinging to her
+brother, trembling violently, and at her wits' end to know what to do.
+
+The simple way out of the difficulty would have been to take Duncan
+Leslie into their confidence at once; but in her agitation, Louise
+shrank from that.  She knew his stern integrity; she had often heard of
+his firmness with his mine people; and she feared that in his surprise
+and disgust at what seemed to her now little better than a trick played
+by her brother to deceive them, Leslie would turn against him and refuse
+to keep the secret.
+
+On the other hand, Harry, suffering from a fresh access of dread, but
+now strung up and excited, placed his lips to her ear and bade her be
+silent on her life.
+
+The silence was for a few moments terrible, and then Harry's breath
+could be heard coming and going as if he had been hunted, while Louise,
+in her agony of excitement, sought vainly for words that should put an
+end to the painful encounter.
+
+No one moved; and in the midst of the nervous strain a sharp puff of
+wind came sweeping up from the sea, like the _avant garde_ of a storm,
+and the casement window was blown to with a loud clang.
+
+Harry started as if he had felt that his retreat was cut off, but he
+kept his face averted, and dragged his rough hat down over his eyes,
+though the action was unnecessary, for the darkness was too great for
+him to be recognised.
+
+As he started Louise clung to him, and for the moment he struggled to
+escape from her, but he clung to her the next instant, and quivered with
+fear as the silence was broken by Leslie's voice, so cold, deep, and
+harsh that it seemed as if a stranger was speaking.
+
+"I suppose I have no right to interfere," he said; "but there are times
+when a man forgets or puts aside etiquette, and there are reasons here
+why I should speak.  Miss Vine, where is your father?"
+
+Louise made an effort to reply, but there was only a spasmodic catching
+of her breath.
+
+"Send him away.  Tell him to go," whispered Harry.
+
+"I said, where is your father, Miss Vine?" said Leslie again more
+coldly.
+
+"At--at Mr Van Heldre's," she murmured at last.  "Mr Leslie--pray--"
+
+"I am your father's friend, and I should not be doing my duty--ah! my
+duty--to myself," he cried angrily, "if I did not speak plainly.  Does
+Mr Vine know that this gentleman is here?"
+
+"_No_," said Louise, in an almost inaudible voice, and in the contagion
+of her brother's fear she seemed to see him once more hunted down by the
+officers of justice; and the terrible scene on the pier danced before
+her eyes.
+
+"So I suppose," said Leslie coldly.
+
+"Send him away," whispered Harry hoarsely.
+
+"It is not in Miss Louise Vine's power to send me away, sir," cried
+Leslie fiercely; and the poor trembling girl felt her brother start once
+more.
+
+"You, sir, are here, by her confession, clandestinely.  You are a
+scoundrel and a cur, who dare not show your face, or you would not have
+dashed out that light."
+
+Harry made a harsh guttural sound, such as might be uttered by a beast
+at bay.
+
+"Who are you?  I need not ask your object in coming here.  I could not
+help hearing."
+
+"Tell him to go away," said Harry sharply, speaking in French to
+disguise his voice.
+
+"Mr Leslie, pray, pray go.  This is a private visit.  I beg you will
+go."
+
+"Private enough," said Leslie bitterly; "and once more I say you may
+think I have no right to interfere.  I give up all claims that I might
+have thought I had upon you, but as your father's friend I will not
+stand calmly by and see wrong done his child.  Speak out, sir; who are
+you?  Let's hear your name, if you are ashamed to show your face."
+
+"Tell him to go away," said Harry again.
+
+Leslie writhed, for Aunt Marguerite's hints about the French gentleman
+of good descent came up now as if to sting him.  This man he felt, in
+his blind rage, was the noble suitor who in his nobility stooped to come
+in the darkness to try and persuade a weak girl to leave her home; and
+as he thought this it was all he could do, hot-blooded, madly jealous
+and excited, to keep from flinging himself upon the supposed rival, the
+unworthy lover of the woman he had worshipped with all the strength of a
+man's first passion.
+
+"I can't talk to him in his wretched tongue," cried Leslie, fiercely;
+"but I understand his meaning.  Perhaps he may comprehend mine.  No.  I
+shall not go.  I shall not leave this room till Mr Vine returns.  He
+can answer to your father, or I will, if I have done wrong."
+
+"Mr Leslie!" cried Louise, "you don't know what you are doing--what you
+say.  Pray--pray go."
+
+"When my old friend George Vine tells me I have done wrong, and I have
+seen you safe in his care."
+
+"No, no.  Go now, now!" cried Louise.
+
+Leslie drew a deep breath and his heart beat heavily in the agony and
+despair he felt.  She loved this man, this contemptible wretch who had
+gained such ascendancy over her that she was pleading in his behalf, and
+trying to screen him from her father's anger.
+
+"Mr Leslie.  Do you hear me?" she cried, taking courage now in her
+despair and dread lest her father should return.
+
+"Yes," he said coldly, "I hear you, Miss Vine; and it would be better
+for you to retire, and leave this man with me."
+
+"No, no," she cried excitedly.  "Mr Leslie! you are intruding here.
+This is a liberty.  I desire you to go."
+
+"When Mr Vine comes back," said Leslie sternly.  "If I have done wrong,
+then no apology shall be too humble for me to speak.  But till he comes
+I stay.  I have heard too much.  I may have been mad in indulging in
+those vain hopes, but if that is all dead there still remains too much
+honour and respect for the woman I knew in happier times for me to stand
+by and let her wrong herself by accompanying this man."
+
+"Mr Leslie, you are mistaken."
+
+"I am not."
+
+"Indeed--indeed!"
+
+"Prove it then," he cried, in stern judicial tones.  "I am open to
+conviction.  You love this man?"  Louise was silent.  "He was begging
+you to accompany him in flight."  Louise uttered a low wail.  "Hah!"
+ejaculated Leslie, "I am right."
+
+"No, no; it is all a misapprehension," cried Louise excitedly.  "Mr
+Leslie, this--"
+
+"Hold your tongue," whispered Harry hoarsely, and she moaned as she
+writhed in spirit.
+
+"There are reasons why my father should not know of this visit."
+
+"So I suppose," said Leslie sternly; "and you ask me to be a partner by
+giving way to a second blow to that true-hearted, trusting man.  Louise
+Vine, is it you who are speaking, or has this man put these cruelly base
+words in your mouth?"
+
+"What can I say?  What can I do?" wailed Louise, wringing her hands, as
+with every sense on the strain she listened for her father's step.
+
+Harry, who now that the first shock had passed was rapidly growing more
+calm and calculating, bent down over his sister, and whispered to her
+again in French to go quickly, and get her hat and mantle.
+
+"He will not dare to stop us," he said.
+
+Louise drew a long breath full of pain, for it seemed to be the only way
+to save her brother.  She must go; and, taking a step or two she made
+for the door.
+
+"No," said Leslie calmly, "it is better that you should stay, Miss
+Vine."
+
+Harry was at her side in a moment.
+
+"Never mind your hat," he whispered in French; "we must go at once."
+
+"Stand back, sir!" cried Leslie, springing to the door.  "Your every act
+shows you to be a base scoundrel.  You may not understand my words, but
+you can understand my action.  I am here by this door to keep it till
+Mr Vine returns.  For the lady's sake, let there be no violence."
+
+"Mr Leslie, let us pass!" cried Louise imperiously, but he paid no heed
+to her, continuing to address his supposed rival in calm, judicial
+tones, which did not express the wild rage seething in his heart.
+
+"I say once more, sir, let there be no violence--for your own sake--for
+hers."
+
+Harry continued to advance, with Louise's hand in his, till Leslie had
+pressed close to the door.
+
+"Once more I warn you," said Leslie, "for I swear by Heaven you shall
+not pass while I can lift a hand."
+
+At that moment, in the obscurity, Louise felt her hand dropped, and she
+reeled to the side of the room, as now, with a fierce, harsh sound,
+Harry sprang at Leslie's throat, pushed him back against the door in his
+sudden onslaught, and then wrenched him away.
+
+"Quick, Louise!" he cried in French.  "The door!"
+
+Louise recovered herself and darted to the door, the handle rattling in
+her grasp.  But she did not open it.  She stood as if paralysed, her
+eyes staring and lips parted, gazing wildly at the two dimly-seen
+shadows which moved here and there across the casement frames in a
+curiously weird manner, to the accompaniment of harsh, panting sounds,
+the dull tramping of feet, heavy breathing, and the quick, sharp
+ejaculations of angry men.
+
+Then a fresh chill of horror shot through her, as there was a momentary
+cessation of the sounds, and Leslie panted,
+
+"Hah! then you give in, sir!"  The apparent resignation of his adversary
+had thrown him off his guard, and the next moment Harry had sprung at
+him, and with his whole weight borne him backwards, so that he fell with
+his head upon the bare patch of the hearthstone.
+
+There was the sound of a terrible blow, a faint rustling, and then, as
+Louise stood there like one in a nightmare, she was roused to action by
+her brother's words.
+
+"Quick!" he whispered, in a hoarse, panting way.  "Your hat and mantle.
+Not a moment to lose!"
+
+The nightmare-like sensation was at an end, but it was still all like
+being in a dream to Louise, as, forced against her own will by the
+effort of one more potent, she ran up to her own room, and catching up a
+bonnet and a loose cloak, she ran down again.
+
+"You have killed him," she whispered.
+
+"Pish! stunned.  Quick, or I shall be caught."
+
+He seized her wrist, and hurried her out of the front door just as Liza
+went in at the back, after a long whispered quarrel with her mother, who
+was steadily plodding down towards the town as brother and sister
+stepped out.
+
+"What's that? some one in front?" whispered Harry, stopping short.
+"Here, this way."
+
+"Harry!" moaned his sister, as he drew her sidewise and began to climb
+up the rough side of the path so as to reach the rugged land above.
+
+"It is the only chance," he said hastily.  "Quick!"
+
+She followed him, half climbing, half dragged, till she was up on the
+granite-strewn waste, across which he hurried her, reckless of the
+jagged masses of rock that were always cropping up in their way, and of
+the fact that in three places farther along, once fenced in by stones,
+which had since crumbled down, were, one after the other, the openings
+to three disused mines, each a terrible yawning chasm, with certain
+death by drowning for the unfortunate who was plunged into their depths.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter VII.
+
+AFTER THE GREAT SORROWS.
+
+"No, no, no, Mr Vine--I mean no, no, no, George Vine," sobbed Mrs Van
+Heldre; "I did, I know, feel bitter and full of hatred against one who
+could be so base as to raise his hand against my loving, forbearing
+husband; but that was when I was in misery and despair.  Do you think
+that now God has blessed us by sparing his life and restoring him to us,
+I could be so thankless, so hard and wicked as to bear malice?"
+
+"You are very, very good," said Vine sadly.
+
+"I wish I was," said Mrs Van Heldre, with a comic look of perplexity on
+her pretty elderly countenance, "but I'm not, George, I'm a very curious
+woman."
+
+"You are one of the best and most amiable creatures that ever existed,"
+said Vine, taking her hand and kissing it.
+
+"I try to be good-tempered and to do my best," said the little woman
+with a sigh, "but I'm very weak and stupid; and I know that is the one
+redeeming point in my character, I can feel what a weak woman I am."
+
+"Thank God you are what you are," said Vine reverently.  "If I had had
+such a wife spared to me all these years, that terrible catastrophe
+would not have occurred."
+
+"And you, George Vine, thank God, too, for sparing to you the best and
+most loving daughter that ever lived.  Now, now, now, don't look like
+that.  I wanted to tell you how fond and patient John always has been
+with me, and Maddy too, when I have said and done weak and silly things.
+For I do, you know, sometimes.  Ah, it's no use for you to shake your
+head, and pretend you never noticed it.  You must."
+
+"I hope you will never change," said Vine with a sad smile.
+
+"Ah, that's better," cried Mrs Van Heldre.  "I'm glad to see you smile
+again, for Louie's sake, for our sake; and now, once for all, never come
+into our house again, my dear old friend and brother, looking
+constrained.  John has had long, long talks with me and Maddy."
+
+"Yes," cried Vine excitedly.  "What did he say?"
+
+Mrs Van Heldre took his hand and held it.
+
+"He said," she whispered slowly, "that it grieved and pained him to see
+you come to his bedside looking as if you felt that we blamed you for
+what has passed.  He said you had far more cause to blame him."
+
+"No, no," said Vine hastily.  "I do not blame him.  It was fate--it was
+fate."
+
+"It wasn't anything of the kind," said Mrs Van Heldre sharply; "it was
+that stupid, obstinate, bigoted, wrong-headed old fellow Crampton."
+
+"Who felt that he owed a duty to his master, and did that duty."
+
+"Oh!" sighed the little woman with a look of perplexity in her
+puckered-up forehead, "I told you that I was a very stupid woman.  I
+wanted to make you more cheerful and contented, and see what I have
+done!"
+
+"How can I be cheerful and contented, my good little woman?" said Vine
+sadly.  "There, there!  I shall be glad when a couple of years have
+gone."
+
+"Why?" said Mrs Van Heldre sharply.
+
+"Because I shall either be better able to bear my burden or be quite at
+rest."
+
+"George Vine!" exclaimed Mrs Van Heldre reproachfully.  "Is that you
+speaking?  Louise--remember Louise."
+
+"Ah, yes," he said sadly, but sat gazing dreamily before him.  "Louise.
+If it had not been for her--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence.
+
+"Come, my dear.  John will be expecting you for a long chat.  Try and be
+more hopeful, and don't go up to him looking like that.  Doctor
+Knatchbull said we were to make him as cheerful as we could, and to keep
+him from thinking about the past.  He did say, too, that we were not to
+let you see him much.  There--"
+
+Poor little Mrs Van Heldre looked more perplexed than ever, and now
+burst into tears.  "He said that?  The doctor said that?"
+
+"Yes; but did you ever hear such a silly woman in your life?  To go and
+blurt out such a thing as that to you!"
+
+"He was quite right--quite right," said Vine hastily; "and I'll be very
+careful not to say or do anything to depress him.  Poor John!  Do you
+think he is awake now?"
+
+"No," said Mrs Van Heldre, wiping her eyes.  "Maddy is with him, and
+she will come down directly he wakes."
+
+At that moment there was a ring, and on the door being opened the
+servant announced Luke Vine.
+
+"Hallo!" he said, coming in after his usual unceremonious fashion.  "How
+is he?"
+
+"Very, very much better, Luke Vine," said Mrs Van Heldre.  "George is
+going up to see him as soon as he wakes."
+
+"George?  My brother George!  Oh, you're there, are you?  How are you,
+George?  How's the girl?"
+
+"Sit down, Luke Vine."
+
+"No, thank you, ma'am.  Sit too much as it is.  Don't get enough
+exercise."
+
+"You shall go up and see John, as soon as he wakes."
+
+"No, thankye.  What's the use?  I couldn't do him any good.  One's
+getting old now.  No time to spare.  Pity to waste what's left."
+
+"Well, I'm sure," said Mrs Van Heldre, bridling.  "Of all men to talk
+like that, you ought to be the last.  I'll go up and see whether he is
+awake."
+
+"Poor little woman," said Uncle Luke, as she left the room.  "Always
+puts me in mind, George, of a pink and white bantam hen."
+
+"As good a little woman as ever breathed, Luke."
+
+"Yes, of course; but it's comic to see her ruffle up her feathers and go
+off in a huff.  How's Lou?"
+
+"Not very well, Luke.  Poor girl, she frets.  I shall have to take her
+away."
+
+"Rubbish!  She'll be all right directly.  Women have no brains."
+
+George Vine looked up at him with an air of mild reproof.
+
+"All tears and doldrums one day; high jinks and coquetry the next.
+Marry, and forget all about you in a week."
+
+"Luke, my dear brother, you do not mean this."
+
+"Don't soap, George.  I hate to be called my dear brother.  Now, do I
+look like a dear brother?"
+
+"I shall never forget your goodness to us over our terrible trouble."
+
+"Will you be quiet?  Hang it all, George! don't be such an idiot.  Let
+the past be.  The poor foolish boy is dead; let him rest.  Don't be for
+ever digging up the old sorrow, to brood over it and try to hatch fresh.
+The eggs may not be addled, and you might be successful.  Plenty of
+trouble without making more."
+
+"I do not wish to make more, Luke; but you hurt me when you speak so
+lightly of Louise."
+
+"A jade!  I hate her."
+
+"No, you do not."
+
+"Yes, I do.  Here's Duncan Leslie, as good a fellow as ever stepped, who
+has stuck to her through thick and thin, in spite of my lady's powder,
+and fan, and her insults."
+
+"Marguerite has been very sharp and spiteful to Mr Leslie," said George
+Vine sadly.
+
+"She's mad.  Well, he wants to marry the girl, and she has pitched him
+over."
+
+"Has Louise refused him?"
+
+"He doesn't say so; but I saw him, and that's enough.  Of course I know
+that at present--et cetera, et cetera: but the girl wants a husband: all
+girls do.  There was one for her, and she is playing _stand off_ with
+him.  Just like woman.  He! he! he! he!"  He uttered a sneering laugh.
+"Going to marry Madge's French count, I suppose--Monsieur le Comte de
+Mythville.  There, I can't help it, George, old lad; it makes me wild.
+Shake hands, old chap.  Didn't mean to hurt your feelings; but between
+ourselves, though I've never shown it to a soul, I was rather hit upon
+the idea of Leslie marrying Louise."
+
+"I had thought it possible," said George Vine, with a sigh.
+
+"Her fault.  Hang it all, George, be a man, and bestir yourself."
+
+"I am trying, brother Luke."
+
+"That's right, lad; and for goodness' sake put down your foot and keep
+Margaret in her place.  Louie is soft now with trouble, and that wicked
+old woman will try to work her and mould her into what shape she
+pleases.  You've had enough of Margaret."
+
+"I have tried to do my duty by our sister."
+
+"You've done more, my lad.  Now take care that she leaves Louie alone.
+You don't want another old maid of her pattern in the family."
+
+"John is awake now, George Vine," said Mrs Van Heldre, re-entering the
+room.  "Will you go up?"
+
+"Yes, I'll go up," said George Vine quietly.
+
+"Well, aren't I to be asked to see him?" grumbled Uncle Luke.
+
+"Oh, what a strange man you are!" said Mrs Van Heldre; "you know I
+wanted you to go up."
+
+"No, I don't; I know you asked me to go up.  Different thing
+altogether."
+
+"I did want you to go.  I felt that it would cheer up poor John."
+
+"Well, don't be cross about it, woman.  Ask me again."
+
+Mrs Van Heldre turned with a smile to George Vine, as much as to say,
+"Did you ever hear such an unreasonable being?"
+
+"Rum one, aren't I, John's wife, eh?" said Uncle Luke grimly.  "Good
+little woman, after all."
+
+"After all!" ejaculated Mrs Van Heldre, as she followed them into the
+room, and then stopped back.  "Too many of us at once can't be good, so
+I must stay down," she added, with a sigh.
+
+Crossing to the table where her bird's cage was standing, she completely
+removed the cover, now displaying a pink and grey ball of feathers upon
+the perch, her action having been so gentle that the bird's rest was not
+disturbed.
+
+"Poor little prisoner!" she said gently.  "There, you may wake up
+to-morrow morning and pipe and sing in the bright sunshine, for we can
+bear it now--thank God! we can bear it now."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter VIII.
+
+THE DISCOVERY.
+
+Madelaine rose as the brothers entered the room, and before coming to
+the bed, where Van Heldre lay rapidly mending now, George Vine took the
+girl's hands, looked down in her pale face, which sorrow seemed to have
+refined, and bent down and kissed her.
+
+"How are you, Maddy?" said Luke Vine, gruffly; and he was going on to
+the bed, but Madelaine laid her hand upon his shoulder, leant towards
+him, and kissed him.
+
+"Hah! yes, forgot," he said, brushing her forehead roughly with his grey
+beard; and then, yielding to a sudden impulse, kissing the girl
+tenderly.  "How I do hate girls!" he muttered to himself, as he went
+straight to the window and stood there for a few moments.
+
+"Poor lad!" he said to himself.  "Yes, hopeless, or a girl like that
+would have redeemed him."
+
+He turned back from the window.
+
+"Room too hot and stuffy," he said.  "Well, how are you, John?"
+
+"Getting well fast," replied Van Heldre, shaking hands.  "Splendid fish
+that was you sent me to-day; delicious."
+
+"Humph! all very fine!  Shilling or fifteen-pence out of pocket,"
+grumbled Uncle Luke.
+
+"Get out!" said Van Heldre, after a keen look at George Vine.  "Poll
+Perrow wouldn't have given you more than ninepence for a fish like that.
+It's wholesale, Luke, wholesale."
+
+"Ah! you may grin and wink at George," grumbled Uncle Luke, "but times
+are getting hard."
+
+"They are, old fellow, and we shall be having you in the workhouse, if
+we can't manage to get you to the Victoria Park place."
+
+"Here, come away, George," snarled Uncle Luke.  "He's better.  Beginning
+to sneer.  Temper's getting very bad now, I suppose, my dear?" he added
+to Madelaine.
+
+"Terrible.  Leads me a dreadful life, Uncle Luke," she said, putting her
+arm round Van Heldre's neck to lay her cheek against his brow for a
+moment or two before turning to leave the room.
+
+"Cant and carny," said Uncle Luke.  "Don't you believe her, John Van;
+she'll be coming to you for money to-morrow--bless her," he added _sotto
+voce_; then aloud, "What now?"
+
+For Madelaine had gone behind his chair, and placed her hands upon his
+shoulders.
+
+"It's all waste of breath, Uncle Luke," she said gently.  "We found you
+out a long time ago, Louise and I."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"All this pretended cynicism.  It's a mere disguise."
+
+"An ass in the lion's skin, eh?"
+
+"No, Uncle Luke," she whispered, with her lips close to his ear, so that
+the others should not catch the words, "that is the wrong way, sir.
+Reverse the fable."
+
+"What do you mean, hussy?"
+
+"The dear old lion in the ass's skin," she whispered; "and whenever you
+try to bray it is always a good honest roar."
+
+"Well, of all--"
+
+He did not finish, for Madelaine had hurried from the room, but a grim
+smile came over his cynical countenance, and he rubbed his hands softly
+as if he was pleased.  Then, drawing his chair nearer to the bed, he
+joined in the conversation at rare intervals, the subjects chosen being
+all as foreign as possible from the past troubles, till Mrs Van Heldre
+came softly into the room.
+
+"I am Doctor Knatchbull's deputy," she said; "and my orders are not to
+let John excite himself."
+
+"All nonsense, my dear," said Van Heldre.
+
+"She is quite right, John," said George Vine, rising.
+
+"Quite right," said Uncle Luke, following his brother's example.  "Keep
+him quiet.  Make haste and get well.  Good-night.  Come, George."
+
+He was at the door by the time he had finished his speech, and without
+pausing to shake hands began to descend.
+
+Madelaine came out of the drawing-room as the old man reached the hail.
+
+"What do you think of him?" she said eagerly.
+
+"Going backwards--dying fast," he said shortly.  "Oh!"
+
+"Don't be a little goose," he cried, catching her in his arms as she
+reeled.  "We all are; especially people over fifty.  Bonny little nurse.
+You've done wonders.  Good-night, my dear; God bless you!"
+
+She returned his loving fatherly kiss, given hastily, as if he were
+ashamed of his weakness, and then he strode out into the dark night.
+
+"Poor Uncle Luke!" she said softly.  "I was right.  He must have had
+some shock to change his life like this.  Good-night, dear Mr Vine.  My
+dearest love to Louie."
+
+"Good-night, my darling," he whispered huskily, and the next minute he
+was walking slowly away beside his brother in the direction of the
+turning up to the granite house.
+
+"Good-night, Luke," said George Vine.  "It is of no use to say come up."
+
+"Yes, it is," said Uncle Luke snappishly.  "I want to see Louie, and
+have a decent cup of tea."
+
+"I am very glad," said his brother warmly.  "Hah! that's right.  Come
+more often, Luke.  We are getting old men now, and it's pleasant to talk
+of the days when we were boys."
+
+"And be driven from the place by Madge with her pounce-box and her
+civet-cat airs.  You kick her out, and I'll come often."
+
+"Poor Marguerite!"
+
+"There you go; encouraging the silly French notions.  Why can't you call
+her Margaret, like a British Christian?"
+
+"Let her finish her span in peace, brother," said George Vine, whose
+visit to his old friend seemed to have brightened him, and made voice
+and step elastic.  "We are crotchety and strange too, I with my mollusc
+hobby, you with your fishing."
+
+"If you want to quarrel, I'm not coming up."
+
+"Yes you are, Luke.  There, come often, and let poor Margaret say what
+she likes.  We shall have done our duty by her, so that will be enough
+for us."
+
+"Hang duty!  I'm getting sick of duty.  No matter what one does, or how
+one tries to live in peace and be left alone, there is always duty
+flying in one's face."
+
+"Confession of failure, Luke," said his brother, taking his arm.  "You
+had given up ordinary social life, invested your property, sent your
+plate to your banker's, and settled down to the life of the humblest
+cottager, to, as you say, escape the troubles of every-day life."
+
+"Yes, and I've escaped 'em--roguish tradespeople, household anxieties,
+worries out of number."
+
+"In other words," said Vine, smiling, "done everything you could to
+avoid doing your duty, and for result you have found that trouble comes
+to your cottage in some form or another as frequently as it does to my
+big house."
+
+Uncle Luke stopped short, and gave his stick a thump on the path.
+
+"I have done, Luke," said Vine quietly.  "Come along; Louise will think
+we are very long."
+
+"Louise will be very glad to have had an hour or two to herself without
+you pottering about her.  Hah! what idiots we men are, fancying that the
+women are looking out for us from our point of view when they are
+looking out from theirs for fear of being surprised, and--"
+
+"Here we are, Luke.  Come in, my clear boy."
+
+Uncle Luke grunted.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," he said, "it's getting late.  Perhaps I had better
+not come in now."
+
+"The tea will be waiting," said his brother, holding his arm lightly as
+he rang.
+
+"Horribly dark for my walk back afterwards," grumbled Uncle Luke.
+"Really dangerous place all along there by the cliff.  No business to be
+out at night.  Ought to be at home."
+
+"Tea ready, Liza?" said George Vine, as the door was opened, and the
+pleasant glow from the hall shone upon them in a way that, in spite of
+his assumed cynicism, looked tempting and attractive to Uncle Luke.
+
+"Miss Louise hasn't rung for the urn yet, sir."
+
+"Hah! that will do.  Give me your hat, Luke."
+
+"Bah! nonsense!  Think I can't hang up my own hat now."
+
+George Vine smiled, and he shook his head at his brother with a
+good-humoured smile as he let him follow his own bent.
+
+"That's right.  Come along.  Louie dear, I've brought Uncle Luke up to
+tea.  All dark?  Liza, bring the lamp."
+
+Liza had passed through the baize-covered door which separated the
+domestic offices from the rest of the house, and did not hear the order.
+
+"Louie!  Louie dear!"
+
+"Oh!  I don't mind the dark," said Uncle Luke.  "Here, why don't the
+girl let in some air these hot nights?" he continued, as he crossed the
+room towards the big embayment, with its stained glass heraldic device.
+
+_Crack_! _crackle_!
+
+"Hullo here! broken glass under one's feet," said Luke Vine, with a
+chuckle.  "This comes of having plenty of servants to keep your place
+clean."
+
+"Glass?"
+
+"Yes, glass.  Can't you hear it?" snarled Uncle Luke, who, as he found
+his brother resume his old demeanour, relapsed into his own.  "There!
+glass--glass--glass crunching into your Turkey carpet."
+
+As he spoke he gave his foot a stamp, with the result that at each
+movement there was a sharp crackling sound.
+
+"It's very strange.  Louise!"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+A low, piteous moan.
+
+"What's that?" cried Uncle Luke sharply.
+
+George Vine stood in the darkness paralysed with dread.  Some fresh
+trouble had befallen his house--some new horror assailed him; and his
+hand wandered vaguely about in search of support as a terrible feeling
+of sickness came over him, and he muttered hoarsely, "Louise! my child!
+my child!"
+
+Luke Vine was alarmed, but he did not lose his presence of mind.
+
+"Margaret--a fit," he said to himself, as, turning quickly, his foot
+kicked against another portion of the lamp-globe, which tinkled loudly
+as it fell to pieces.
+
+He brushed by his brother, hurrying out into the hall, to return
+directly bearing the lamp which stood on a bracket, and holding it high
+above his head as he stepped carefully across the carpet.
+
+"There! there!" whispered George Vine, pointing towards the fireplace,
+where he could see a figure lying athwart the hearth-rug.
+
+Then, as Luke held the light higher, George Vine seemed to recover his
+own presence of mind, and going down on one knee as he bent over, he
+turned the face of the prostrate man to the light.
+
+"Duncan Leslie!" cried Uncle Luke excitedly, as he quickly set down the
+lamp and knelt on the other side.  "Where's Louie?  The poor boy's in a
+fit."
+
+"No, no," whispered his brother hoarsely.  "Look! look!"
+
+Luke drew in a quick, hissing breath.
+
+"Call Louie," he said sharply.  "Tell her to bring something to bind up
+his head--scissors, sponge, and water."
+
+"Has he been struck down?" faltered George Vine, with the thought of his
+old friend rushing to his mind.
+
+"No, no.  Don't talk.  Here, your handkerchief, man," said Luke, who was
+far the more matter-of-fact.  "A fall.  Head cut.  Slip on the cliff, I
+suppose, and he has come here for help."
+
+Taking the handkerchief passed to him by his brother, he rapidly bound
+it round the place where a deep cut was slowly welling, while George
+Vine dragged sharply at the bell, and then ran to the door and called,
+"Louise!  Louise!"
+
+Liza came hurrying into the hall, round-eyed and startled.
+
+"Where is your mistress?" cried Vine.
+
+"Miss Louise, sir?  Isn't she there?"
+
+"No.  Go up to her room and fetch her.  Perhaps she is with Miss Vine."
+
+"I'll go and see, sir," said the girl wonderingly; and she ran
+up-stairs.
+
+"Help me to get him on the sofa, George," said Uncle Luke; and together
+they placed the injured man with his head resting on a cushion.
+
+"Now, then, I think we had better have Knatchbull.  He must have had a
+nasty fall.  Send your girl; or no, I'll go myself."
+
+"No," said Leslie feebly; "don't go."
+
+"Ah: that's better.  You heard what I said?"
+
+"Yes; what you said."
+
+It was a feeble whisper, and as the brothers bent over the injured man,
+they could see that he was gazing wildly at them with a face full of
+horror and despair.
+
+"I'll trot down and fetch Knatchbull," whispered Uncle Luke.
+
+"No."
+
+The negative came from Leslie, who was lying back with his eyes closed,
+and it was so decisive that the brothers paused.
+
+At that moment Liza entered the room.
+
+"She isn't up-stairs, sir.--Ow!"
+
+The girl had caught sight of Leslie's ghastly face, and she uttered an
+excited howl, and thrust her fingers into her ears.
+
+Leslie looked up at George Vine vacantly for a moment, and then light
+seemed to come to his clouded brain, and his lips moved.
+
+"Say it again," said Vine, bending over him.
+
+"Send--her--away," whispered the injured man.
+
+"Yes, of course.  Liza, go and wait--no; get a basin of water, sponge,
+and towel, and bring them when I ring."
+
+The girl looked at him wildly, but she had not heard his words; and
+Uncle Luke put an end to the difficulty by taking her arm and leading
+her into the hall.
+
+"Go and get sponge and basin.  Mr Leslie has fallen and hurt himself.
+Now, don't be stupid.  You needn't cry."
+
+The girl snatched her arm away and ran through the baize door.
+
+"Just like a woman!" muttered Uncle Luke as he went back; "no use when
+she's wanted.  Well, how is he?"
+
+Leslie heard the whisper, and turned his eyes upon him with a look of
+recognition.
+
+"Better," he whispered.  "Faint--water."
+
+George Vine opened the cellarette, and gave him a little brandy, whose
+reviving power proved wonderful.  But after heaving a deep sigh, he lay
+back with his forehead puckered.
+
+"Hadn't I better fetch Knatchbull, my lad?" said Uncle Luke gruffly, but
+with a kindly ring in his voice.  "Cut on the back of your head.  He'd
+soon patch it up."
+
+"No.  Better soon," said Leslie in a low voice.  "Let me think."
+
+"Be on the look out," whispered Uncle Luke to his brother.  "Better not
+let Louise come in."
+
+Leslie's eyes opened quickly, and he gazed from one to the other.
+
+"Better not let her see you till you are better," said Uncle Luke,
+taking the injured man into their confidence.
+
+A piteous sigh escaped from Leslie, and he closed his eyes tightly.
+
+"Poor boy!" said Uncle Luke, "he must have had an ugly fall.  Missed his
+way in the dark, I suppose.  George, you'll have to keep him here
+to-night."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," said George Vine uneasily, for his ears were on
+the strain to catch his child's step, and her absence troubled him.
+
+All at once Leslie made an effort to sit up, but a giddy sensation
+overcame him, and he sank back, staring at them wildly.
+
+"Don't be alarmed," said George Vine kindly.  "You are faint.  That's
+better."
+
+Leslie lay still for a few moments, and then made a fresh effort to sit
+up.  This time it was with more success.
+
+"Give him a little more brandy," whispered Uncle Luke.
+
+"No; he is feverish, and it may do harm.  Yes," he said to Leslie, as
+the injured man grasped his arm, "you want to tell us how you fell
+down."
+
+"No," said Leslie quickly, but in a faint voice, "I did not fall.  It
+was in the struggle."
+
+"Struggle?" cried Uncle Luke.  "Were you attacked?"
+
+Leslie nodded quickly.
+
+"Where?  Along the road?"
+
+"No," said Leslie hoarsely; "here."
+
+"Here?" exclaimed the brothers in a breath; and then they exchanged
+glances, each silently saying to the other, "The poor fellow is
+wandering."
+
+"There," said Leslie, "I can think clearly now.  It all seemed like a
+dream.  You must know, Mr Vine.  I must tell you," he added piteously.
+"Mr Vine, what do you propose doing?"
+
+"Hush!" said George Vine, laying his hand upon the young man's shoulder,
+"you are ill and excited now.  Don't talk at present.  Wait a little
+while."
+
+"Wait?" cried Leslie, growing more excited.  "You do not know what you
+are saying.  How long have I been lying here?  What time is it?"
+
+"About nine," said Vine kindly.  "Come, come, lie back for a few
+moments.  We'll get some cold water, and bathe your temples."
+
+"Man, you will drive me mad," cried Leslie.  "Do you not--no, you have
+not understood yet.  Louise--Miss Vine!"
+
+George Vine staggered as if he had been struck, and his brother caught
+his arm as he stood there gasping, with his hand to his throat.
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Uncle Luke sternly.
+
+"I am sick and faint," said Leslie, pressing his hands to his brow, as
+if unable to think clearly.  "I remember now.  I came in to ask about
+Mr Van Heldre, and a stranger was with Miss Vine.  I tried to stop
+him--till you returned.  We struggled, and he threw me.  I recollect no
+more."
+
+"You're mad!" said Uncle Luke savagely.  "Where is Louise?"
+
+His brother caught hold of the back of a chair to support himself, and
+his lips moved, but no sound came.
+
+"Yes, I can recollect it all clearly now," panted Leslie.  "You must
+know!"
+
+And he told them all.
+
+They heard him in silence, devouring his words, and from time to time
+exchanging a hurried glance of inquiry.
+
+"Bah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke, as the young man finished.  Then, changing
+his manner, "Yes, of course.  There, lie back, my lad, and tell us again
+after you've had a rest."
+
+"No, no," cried Leslie passionately, "it is wasting time.  She was
+forced to go.  She was imploring him to let her stay when I came in, and
+they must be miles away by now.  For Heaven's sake do something before
+it is too late."
+
+"A Frenchman?" said Uncle Luke eagerly.
+
+"Yes; he spoke to her in French, as well as in English."
+
+"And did my niece speak to him in French?"
+
+"No; she was appealing to him in English, but he spoke at times in
+French."
+
+"Do you hear this, George?  Has Louise a French friend?"
+
+"No," cried her father angrily, "it is a delusion."
+
+"I would to Heaven it were," groaned Leslie, "I would to Heaven it
+were!"
+
+George Vine crossed to the bell-pull, and rang sharply, repeating the
+summons before Liza had time to enter the room.
+
+"When did you see your mistress last?" he said sharply.
+
+"When I took in the lamp, sir."
+
+Liza knew no more, and was dismissed, after staring wonderingly from one
+to the other.
+
+"Stop!" cried Uncle Luke.  "Go up and ask Miss Vine if my niece has been
+with her."
+
+Liza returned with an answer in the negative; and as soon as they were
+alone, Leslie said piteously,
+
+"You disbelieve me."
+
+"No, no, my lad," said Uncle Luke; "we only think you are suffering from
+your fall, and distrust what you have, or think you have, seen."
+
+"Think!" said Leslie angrily.
+
+"You say some man was with my niece--a Frenchman."
+
+"Yes; I am bound to tell you for her sake."
+
+"It is not true," cried George Vine fiercely.
+
+They looked at him with surprise, for he seemed transformed from the
+quiet, mild-looking man to one full of fierce determination as he stood
+there with flashing eyes.
+
+"My daughter knew no Frenchman."
+
+Leslie winced as if stung, for the mental suggestion was there that
+Louise had hoodwinked her father and kept up some clandestine engagement
+with this man.
+
+"Do you hear me?" cried Vine angrily.
+
+"I say it is not true.  Mr Leslie, you have been deceived, or you have
+deceived yourself.  I beg your pardon.  You are not yourself.  It is
+useless to discuss this further.  Luke, all this seems mysterious
+because we have no key to the puzzle.  Pish! puzzle! it is no puzzle.
+Louise will be here shortly.  Mr Leslie, be advised; lie still for an
+hour, and then my brother and I will see you home.  Or, better still,
+let me offer you the hospitality of my house for the night."
+
+The cloud that had obscured Leslie's brain had now passed away, leaving
+his mental perceptions clear, while his temper was exacerbated by the
+injury he had received, and by the agony he suffered on account of
+Louise.
+
+In place of lying back, he rose from the couch and faced George Vine,
+with his lips quivering and an angry look in his eyes.
+
+"Look," he said hoarsely, "I am weak and helpless.  If I take a few
+steps I shall reel and fall, or I would do what I tried to do before,
+act on her behalf.  You mock at my words.  You, her father, and stand
+there wasting time; valuable time, which, if used now, might save that
+poor girl from a life of misery.  Do you hear me?  I tell you she has
+gone--fled with that man.  He forced her to go with threats.  Do you not
+hear me?"
+
+"Leslie, my lad," said Uncle Luke, "be calm, be calm."
+
+"You are as mad and blind as he!" cried Leslie.  "Heaven help me, and I
+am as weak as a child."
+
+He strode towards the door, and proved the truth of his words, for he
+tottered, and would have fallen but for Uncle Luke.
+
+"There, you see," he cried fiercely, "I can do nothing, and you, uncle
+and father, stand blind to the misery and disgrace which threaten you."
+
+"Silence!" cried George Vine; "I can hear no more."
+
+He turned upon Leslie fiercely.
+
+"Your words, sir, are an insult to me, an insult to my child.  I tell
+you I can hear no more.  What you say is false.  My daughter could not
+leave my house like this.  Go, sir, before I say words which I may
+afterwards repent, and--and--"
+
+"George, man, what is it?" cried Uncle Luke, as his brother's words
+trailed off, and he stopped suddenly in the agitated walk he had kept up
+to and fro while he was addressing Leslie.
+
+There was no answer to the agitated question, for George Vine was gazing
+down at something beside the table, lying half covered by the
+dragged-aside cloth.
+
+Whatever it was it seemed to act as a spell upon the old naturalist,
+whose eyes were fixed, and his whole aspect that of one suddenly fixed
+by some cataleptic attack.
+
+"What is it?  Are you ill?" cried Uncle Luke excitedly, as he stepped
+forward.  "Hah, a letter!"
+
+He was in the act of stooping to pick it up, but his act seemed to rouse
+his brother from his lethargy, and he caught him by the arm.
+
+"No, no," he whispered; and slowly putting his brother back, he stooped
+and stretched out his hand to pick up the half-hidden letter.
+
+They could see that his hand trembled violently, and the others stood
+watching every act, for the feeling was strong upon both that the letter
+which Vine raised and held at arm's length contained the explanation
+needed.
+
+George Vine held the letter toward the shaded lamp, and then passed his
+left hand over his eyes, and uttered a hoarse sigh, which seemed as if
+torn from his heart.
+
+"I--I can't read," he whispered--"eyes dim to-night, Luke.  Read."
+
+Uncle Luke's hand trembled now as he took the missive, and slowly tore
+open the envelope; but as he drew out the letter it was snatched from
+his hands by his brother, who held it beneath the lamp-shade and bent
+down to read.
+
+He raised himself up quickly and passed his hand across his eyes, as if
+to sweep away some film which hindered his reading, and the silence in
+that room was terrible as he bent down again.
+
+A strong pang of suffering shot through Duncan Leslie as he saw the old
+man's lips quivering, while he read in a slow, laborious way, the few
+lines contained in the note, and then, after once more making an effort
+to clear his vision, he seemed to read it again.
+
+"George--brother--why don't you speak?" said Uncle Luke at last.
+
+George Vine looked up in a curiously dazed way.
+
+"Speak?" he said huskily; "speak?"
+
+"Yes; is that from Louise?"
+
+He bowed his head in assent.
+
+"Well, what does she say, man?  What does it mean?"
+
+George Vine looked in his brother's eyes once more--the same curiously
+dazed look as if he hardly comprehended what was taking place.  Then he
+slowly placed the note in Luke's hands.
+
+There was no slow, dazed manner here, for the old cynic was full of
+excitement, and he seemed to read the note at a glance.
+
+"Gone!" he said.  "Then she has gone?"
+
+"Yes," said his brother slowly; "she has gone."
+
+"But this man, George--this man, Leslie.  Don't stare, man, speak."
+
+"What do you wish me to say, sir?" said Leslie, hoarsely.
+
+"Who was he?  What was he like?"
+
+"I could not see his face, he kept it averted.  I can tell you no more,
+sir.  I tried to force him to stay till Mr Vine's return, as I before
+told you, and you saw the result."
+
+"A Frenchman?"
+
+"He spoke in French."
+
+"George, had you any suspicion of this?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You never heard word?"
+
+"I never heard word."
+
+"But it must have been going on for long enough.  And you knew nothing
+whatever?"
+
+"And I knew nothing whatever," said George Vine, his words coming slowly
+and in a voice which sounded perfectly calm.
+
+"Then you know from what black cloud this bolt has come?"
+
+"I--I know nothing," said Vine, in the same slow, strange way.
+
+"Then, I can tell you," cried Luke, furiously.  "If ever man nursed
+viper at his fireside, you have done this, for it to sting you to the
+heart.  Hah!" he cried, as the door opened and Aunt Marguerite sailed
+in, drawing herself up in her most dignified way, as she saw who was
+present, and then ignoring both strangers, she turned to her brother.
+
+"What is the meaning of these inquiries?" she said sternly.  "Where is
+Louise?"
+
+"Ask your own heart, woman," cried Uncle Luke, furiously.  "Gone--gone
+with some wretched French impostor of your introduction here."
+
+Aunt Marguerite gazed at him angrily.
+
+"I say where is Louise?" she cried excitedly.
+
+"Mr Leslie," said George Vine, after drawing a long breath, his
+sister's shrill voice having seemed to rouse him; "you will forgive a
+weak, trusting old man for what he said just now?"
+
+"Forgive you, Mr Vine!"
+
+"I was sure of it.  Thank you.  I am very weak."
+
+"But Louise?" cried Aunt Marguerite.
+
+"Read her letter.  Gone!" cried Uncle Luke fiercely, as he thrust the
+note in the old woman's face.
+
+"Gone!" said George Vine, staring straight before him with the curious
+look in his eyes intensified, as was the stony aspect of his face.
+"Gone!  Thank God--thank God!"
+
+"George, what are you saying?" cried Uncle Luke excitedly.
+
+"I say thank God that my dear wife was not spared to me to see the blow
+that has fallen upon my home to-night."
+
+Brother, sister, Duncan Leslie stood gazing at the silvered head,
+dimly-seen above the shaded lamp.  The face was unnaturally calm and
+strange; and weak as he was, Duncan Leslie sprang forward.  He had seen
+what was coming, and strove vainly to save the stricken man, for George
+Vine seemed to have been robbed of all power, and fell with a weary moan
+senseless at his brother's feet.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter IX.
+
+BROKEN WITH THE FIGHT.
+
+"Better stop where you are, man," said Uncle Luke.
+
+"No," said Leslie, as he stood gazing straight before him as one who
+tries to see right on into the future along the vista of one's own life.
+
+"But it is nearly one o'clock.  Sit down there and get a nap."
+
+"No.  I must go home," said Leslie slowly, and in a measured way, as if
+he were trying to frame his sentences correctly in carrying on the
+conversation while thinking of something else.
+
+"Well, you are your own master."
+
+"Yes," said Leslie.  "How is he?"
+
+"Calmer now.  He was half mad when he came to, and Knatchbull was afraid
+of brain fever, but he gave him something to quiet the excitement.
+Better have given you something too."
+
+"What are you going to do?" said Leslie, turning upon the old man
+suddenly, and with a wild look in his eyes.
+
+"Do nothing rashly," said Uncle Luke.
+
+"But time is flying, man."
+
+"Yes.  Always is," said Uncle Luke, coolly, as he watched his companion
+with half-closed eyes.
+
+"But--"
+
+"That will do.  I cannot discuss the matter to-night, my head's in a
+whirl.  Do nothing rashly is a capital maxim."
+
+"But we are wasting time."
+
+"Look here, young man," said Uncle Luke, taking Leslie by the lappet of
+the coat.  "I'm not blind.  I dare say I can see as far through you as
+most people can.  I am an old man, and at my time of life I can be calm
+and dispassionate, and look on at things judicially."
+
+"Judicially?" said Leslie bitterly; "any child could judge here."
+
+"Oh, no," said the old man; "big child as you are, you can't."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That you are only a big stupid boy, Duncan Leslie."
+
+"Don't insult me in my misery, man."
+
+"Not I, my lad.  I like you too well.  I am only playing the surgeon,
+hurting you to do you good.  Look here, Leslie, you are in pain, and you
+are madly jealous."
+
+"Jealous!" cried the young man scornfully, "of whom?"
+
+"My niece--that man--both of them."
+
+"Not I.  Angry with myself, that's all, for being an idiot."
+
+"And because you are angry with yourself, you want to follow and rend
+that man who knocked you down; and because you call yourself an idiot
+for being deeply attached to Louise, you are chafing to go after her,
+and at any cost bring her back to throw yourself at her feet, and say,
+`Don't have him, have me.'"
+
+"All!" cried Leslie furiously.  "There, you are an old man and
+licensed."
+
+"Yes, I am the licensed master of our family, Leslie, and I always speak
+my mind."
+
+"Yes, you sit there talking, when your duty is to follow and bring your
+niece back from disgrace," cried the young man furiously.
+
+"Thank you for teaching me my duty, my lad.  You have had so much more
+experience than I.  All the same, Duncan Leslie, my hotheaded Scot, I am
+going to sleep on it, and that's what I advise you to do.  There: be
+reasonable, man.  You know you are not in a condition for dispassionate
+judgment."
+
+"I tell you any one could judge this case," said Leslie hotly.
+
+"And I tell you, my dear boy, that it would have puzzled Solomon."
+
+"Will you go in search of her directly?"
+
+"Will I go out in the dark, and run my head against the first granite
+wall?  No, my boy, I will not."
+
+"Then I must."
+
+"What, run your head against a wall?"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"Look here, Leslie, I've watched you, my lad, for long enough past.  I
+saw you take a fancy to my darling niece Louie; and I felt as if I
+should like to come behind and pitch you off the cliff.  Then I grew
+more reasonable, for I found by careful watching that you were not such
+a bad fellow, after all, and what was worse, it seemed to me that, in
+spite of her aunt's teaching, Louie was growing up into a clever
+sensible girl, with only one weakness, and that a disposition to think a
+little of you."
+
+Leslie made an angry gesture.
+
+"Come, my lad, I'll speak plainly, and put aside all cynical nonsense.
+Answer me this: How long have you known my niece?"
+
+"What does that matter?"
+
+"Much.  I'll tell you.  About a year, and at a distance.  And yet you
+presume, in your hotheaded, mad, and passionate way, to sit in judgment
+upon her, and to treat my advice with contempt."
+
+"You cannot see it all as I do."
+
+"Thank goodness!" muttered Uncle Luke.  "You did not witness what I did
+to-night."
+
+"No.  I wish I had been there."
+
+"I wish you had," said Leslie, bitterly.  "Now you are growing wild
+again.  Be calm, and listen.  Now I say you have known our child a few
+months at a distance, and you presume to judge her.  I have known her
+ever since she was the little pink baby which I held in these hands, and
+saw smile up in my face.  I have known her as the patient, loving,
+unwearying daughter, the forbearing niece to her eccentric aunt--and
+uncle, my lad.  You ought to have said that.  I have known her these
+twenty years as the gentle sister who fought hard to make a sensible man
+of my unfortunate nephew.  Moreover, I have known her in every phase,
+and while I have openly snarled and sneered at her, I have in my heart
+groaned and said to myself, what a different life might mine have been
+had I known and won the love of such a woman as that."
+
+"Oh, yes, I grant all that," said Leslie, hurriedly; "but there was the
+vein of natural sin within."
+
+"Natural nonsense, sir!" cried Uncle Luke, angrily.  "How dare you!  A
+holier, truer woman never breathed."
+
+"Till that scoundrel got hold of her and cursed her life," groaned
+Leslie.  "Yes, trample on me.  I suppose I deserve it."
+
+"Yes," cried the old man, "if only for daring to judge her, when I tell
+you that with all my knowledge of her and her life, I dare not.  No, my
+lad, I'm going to sleep on it, and in the morning see if I can't find
+out the end of the thread, of the clue which will lead us to the truth."
+
+"There is no need," groaned Leslie.  "We know the truth."
+
+"And don't even know who this man is.  No, indeed, we do not know the
+truth.  All right, my lad, I can read your looks.  I'm a trusting, blind
+old fool, am I?  Very well, jealous pate, but I warn you, I'm right and
+you're wrong."
+
+"Would to Heaven I were!  I'd give ten years of my life that it could be
+proved."
+
+"Give ten years of nonsense.  How generous people are at making gifts of
+the impossible!  But look here, Duncan Leslie, I'll have you on your
+knees for this when we have found out the mystery; and what looks so
+black and blind is as simple as A B C.  Trash! bolt with some French
+adventurer?  Our Louie!  Rubbish, sir!  Everything will be proved by and
+by.  She couldn't do it.  Loves her poor old father too well.  There,
+once more take my advice, lie down there and have a nap, and set your
+brain to work in the sunshine, not in the dark."
+
+"No."
+
+"Going?"
+
+"Yes, I am going.  Good-night, sir."
+
+"Good-night, you great stupid, obstinate, thick-headed Scotchman,"
+growled Uncle Luke, as he let him out, and stood listening to his
+retiring steps.  "I hope you'll slip over the cliff and half kill
+yourself.  There's something about Duncan Leslie that I like after all,"
+he muttered, as he went back to the dining-room, and after a few
+minutes' thought, went softly up to his brother's chamber, to find him
+sleeping heavily from the effect of the sedative given by the doctor.
+
+Uncle Luke stole out quietly, shook his fist at his sister's door, and
+then went below to sit for a while studying Louise's letter, before
+lying down to think, and dropping off to sleep with the comforting
+self-assurance that all would come right in the end.
+
+Meanwhile Duncan Leslie had gone down the steep descent, and made his
+way to the foot of the cliff-path, up which, with brain and heart
+throbbing painfully, he slowly tramped.  The night was dull and cold,
+and as he ascended toward Luke Vine's rough cottage, he thought of how
+often he had met Louise on her way up there to her uncle's; and how he
+had often remained at a distance watching from his own place up at the
+mine the graceful form in its simple attire, and the sweet, earnest
+face, whose eyes used once to meet his so kindly, and with so trusting a
+look.
+
+"Sleep on it!" he said, as he recalled the old man's words.  "No sleep
+will ever make me think differently.  I must have been mad--I must have
+been mad."
+
+He had reached the old man's cottage, and almost unconsciously stopped
+and seated himself on the rough block of granite which was Uncle Luke's
+favourite spot when the sun shone.
+
+Before him lay the sea spreading out deep and black, and as impenetrable
+as to its mysteries as the blank future he sought to fathom; and as he
+looked ahead, the sea, the sky, the future all seemed to grow more
+black.
+
+His had been a busy life; school, where he had been ambitious to excel;
+college, where he had worked still more hard for honours, with the
+intention of studying afterwards for the bar; but fate had directed his
+steps in another direction, and through an uncle's wish and suggestions,
+backed by the fact that he held the mine, Duncan Leslie found himself,
+when he should have been eating his dinners at the Temple, partaking of
+them in the far West of England, with a better appetite, and perhaps
+with better prospects from a monetary point of view.
+
+His had been so busy a life that the love-idleness complaint of a young
+man was long in getting a hold, but when it did seize him, the malady
+was the more intense.
+
+He sat there upon the old, worn piece of granite, making no effort to go
+farther, but letting his memory drift back to those halcyon days when he
+had first begun to know that he possessed a heart disposed to turn from
+its ordinary force-pump work to the playing of a sentimental part such
+as had stranded him where he was, desolate and despairing, a wreck with
+his future for ever spoiled.
+
+He argued on like that, sometimes with tender recollections of happy
+days when he had gone back home from some encounter, with accelerated
+pulses and a sensation of hope and joy altogether new.
+
+He dwelt upon one particular day when he had come down from the mine to
+find Louise seated where he then was; and as he recalled the whole
+scene, he uttered a groan of misery, and swept it away by the
+interposition of that of the previous evening; and here his wrath once
+more grew hot against the man who had come between them, for without
+vanity he could feel that Louise had turned toward him at one time, and
+that after a while the memory of the trouble which had come upon them
+would have grown more faint, and then she would once more have listened
+to his suit.
+
+But for that man--He ground his teeth as he recalled Aunt Marguerite's
+hints and smiles; the allusions to the member of the French _haute
+noblesse_; their own connection with the blue blood of Gaul, and his own
+plebeian descent in Aunt Marguerite's eyes.  And now that the French
+noble had arrived, how noble he was in presence and in act.  Stealing
+clandestinely into the house during the father's absence, forcing the
+woman he professed to love into obedience by threats, till she knelt at
+his feet as one who pleads for mercy.
+
+"And this is the _haute noblesse_!" cried Leslie, with a mocking laugh.
+"Thank Heaven, I am only a commoner after all."
+
+He sat trying to compress his head with his hands, for it ached as if it
+would split apart.  The cool night breeze came off the sea, moist and
+bearing refreshment on its wings; but Duncan Leslie found no comfort in
+the deep draught he drank.  His head burned, his heart felt on fire, and
+he gazed straight before him into the blackness trying to make out his
+path.  What should he do?  Act like a man, and cast her off as unworthy
+of a second thought, or rouse himself to the manly and forgiving part of
+seeking her out, dragging her from this scoundrel, and placing her back
+in her stricken father's arms?
+
+It was a hard fight, fought through the darkness of that terrible night,
+as he sat there on the rock, with the wind sighing from off the sea, and
+the dull, low boom of the waves as they broke at the foot of the cliff
+far below.
+
+It was a fight between love and despair, between love and hate, between
+the spirit of a true, honest man who loved once in his life, and the
+cruel spirits of suspicion, jealousy, and malignity, which tortured him
+with their suggestions of Louise's love for one who had tempted her to
+leave her father's home.
+
+As the day approached the air grew colder, but Duncan Leslie's brow
+still burned, and his heart seemed on fire.  The darkness grew more
+dense, and the fight still raged.
+
+What should he do?  The worse side of his fallible human nature was
+growing the stronger; and as he felt himself yielding, the greater grew
+his misery and despair.
+
+"My darling!" he groaned aloud, "I loved you--I loved you with all my
+heart."
+
+He started, alarmed at his own words, and gazed wildly round as if
+expecting that some one might have heard.  But he was quite alone, and
+all was so dark right away ahead.  Was there no such thing as hope for
+one stricken as he?  The answer to his wild, mental appeal seemed to
+come from the far east, for he suddenly became conscious of a pale,
+pearly light which came from far down where sea and sky were mingled to
+the sight.  That pale, soft light grew and grew, seeming to slowly
+suffuse the eastern sky, till all at once he caught sight of a fiery
+flake far on high, of another, and another, till the whole arc of heaven
+was ablaze with splendour, from which the sea borrowed glistening dyes.
+
+And as he gazed the tears rose to his eyes, and seemed to quench the
+burning fire in his brain, as a fragment which he had read floated
+through his memory--
+
+"Joy cometh in the morning--joy cometh in the morning."
+
+Could joy ever again come to such a one as he?  He asked the question
+half-bitterly, as he confessed that the dense blackness had passed away,
+and that hope might still rise upon his life, as he now saw that
+glittering orb of light rise slowly above the sea, and transform the
+glorious world with its golden touch.
+
+"No, no," he groaned, as he rose to go on at last to his desolate home.
+"I am broken with the fight.  I can do no more, and there is no cure for
+such a blow as mine.  Where could I look for help?"
+
+"Yes; there," he said resignedly.  "I'll bear it like a man," and as he
+turned he rested his hand upon the rough granite wall to gaze down the
+path, and drew back with a curious catching of the breath, as he saw the
+light garments of a woman pass a great patch of the black shaley rock.
+
+Madelaine Van Heldre was hurrying up the cliff-path towards where he had
+passed those long hours of despair.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter X.
+
+A STRANGE SUMMONS.
+
+Madelaine Van Heldre closed the book and sat by the little table gazing
+towards her father's bed.
+
+Since he had been sufficiently recovered she had taken her father's
+task, and read the chapter and prayers night and morning in his
+bedroom--a little later on this night, for George Vine had stayed longer
+than usual.
+
+Madelaine sat looking across the chamber at where her father lay back on
+his pillow with his eyes closed, and her mother seated by the bed's head
+holding his hand, the hand she had kept in hers during the time she
+knelt and ever since she had risen from her knees.
+
+Incongruous thoughts come at the best of times, and, with the tears
+standing in her eyes, Madelaine thought of her many encounters with Aunt
+Marguerite, and of the spiteful words.  She did not see why a Dutchman
+should not be as good as a Frenchman, but all the same there was a
+little of the love of descent in her heart, and as she gazed at the fine
+manly countenance on the pillow, with its closely-cut grey hair
+displaying the broad forehead, and at the clipped and pointed beard and
+moustache, turned quite white, she thought to herself that if Aunt
+Marguerite could see her father now she would not dare to argue about
+his descent.
+
+The veil of tears grew thicker in her eyes, and one great drop fell with
+a faint _pat_ upon the cover of the Prayer-book as she thought of the
+past, and that the love in her heart would not be divided now.  It would
+be all for those before her, and help to make their path happier to the
+end.
+
+"`And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against
+us,'" said Van Heldre thoughtfully.  "Grand words, wife--grand words.
+Hah!  I feel wonderfully better to-night.  George Vine acted like a
+tonic.  I've lain here hours thinking that our old companionship would
+end, but I feel at rest now.  His manner seemed to say that the old
+brotherly feeling would grow stronger, and that the past was to be
+forgotten."
+
+He stopped short, and a faint flush came into his pale cheeks, for on
+opening his eyes they had encountered the wistful look in Madelaine's.
+He had not thought of her sufferings, but now with a rush came the
+memories of her confession to him of her love for Harry on that day when
+she had asked him to take the young man into his office.
+
+"My darling!" he said softly, as he held out his arms; and the next
+moment she was folded sobbing to his heart.
+
+No word was spoken till the nightly parting; no word could have been
+spoken that would have been more touching and soothing than that
+embrace.
+
+Then "Good-night!" and Madelaine sought the solitude of her own chamber,
+to sit by the open window listening to the faintly heard beat of the
+waves upon the bar at the mouth of the harbour.  Her spirit was low and
+the hidden sorrow that she had fought hard to keep down all through the
+past trouble had its way for the time, till, at last wearied out, she
+closed her window and went to bed.  Still for long enough it was not to
+sleep, but to think of the old boy-and-girl days, when Harry was merely
+thoughtless, and the better part of his nature, his frank kindness and
+generosity, had impressed her so that she had grown to love him with
+increasing years, and in spite of his follies that love still lay hidden
+in her heart.
+
+"And always will be there," she said softly, as she felt that the
+terrible end had been the expiation, and with the thought that in the
+future Harry Vine, forgiven, purified--the Harry of the past--would
+always be now the frank, manly youth she idealised, she dropped off to
+sleep--a deep, restful slumber, from which she started with the
+impression full upon her that she had only just closed her eyes.  There
+must have been some noise to awaken her, and she sat up listening, to
+see that it was day.
+
+"Yes?  Did any one knock?" she said aloud, for the terror was upon her
+now, one which had often haunted her during the unnerving past days--
+that her father had been taken worse.
+
+All silent.
+
+Then a sharp pattering noise at her window, as if some one had thrown up
+some shot or pebbles.  She hurried out of bed, and ran to the window to
+peep through the slit beside the blind, to see below in the street Liza,
+the Vines' maid, staring up.
+
+"Louise--ill? or Mr Vine?" thought Madelaine, as she quickly unfastened
+and opened the window.
+
+"Yes, Liza.  Quick! what is it?"
+
+"Oh, miss, I've been awake all night, and, not knowing what to do, and
+so I come on."
+
+"Is Mr Vine ill?"
+
+"No, 'm; Miss Louise."
+
+"Ill?  I'll come on at once."
+
+"No, miss; gone," whispered Liza hoarsely; and in a blundering way she
+whispered all she knew.
+
+"I'll come on and see Mr Vine," said Madelaine hastily, and Liza ran
+back, while her blundering narrative, hastily delivered, had naturally a
+confusing effect upon one just awakened from sleep.
+
+Louise gone, Mr Leslie found bleeding, Mr Vine sitting alone in his
+room busy over the molluscs in his aquaria!  It seemed impossible.  Aunt
+Marguerite hysterical.  Everything so strange.
+
+No mention had been made of Uncle Luke by the girl, nor yet of Leslie's
+departure.
+
+"Am I still dreaming?"  Madelaine asked herself as she hastily dressed,
+"or has some fresh terrible disaster come upon us?"
+
+"Upon _us_," she said, for the two families seemed so drawn together
+that one could not suffer without thrilling the other's nerves.
+
+"Louise gone!  It is impossible!"
+
+She said that again and again, trying all the while to be cool and think
+out what were best to be done.  She felt that it would be better not to
+alarm her father by waking him at that early hour, and that she could
+not arouse her mother without his knowing.
+
+She was not long in deciding.
+
+Uncle Luke had shown during the troubles of the past how he could throw
+aside his eccentricity and become a useful, helpful counsellor, and it
+seemed the natural thing to send a message up to him, and beg him to
+come down.  Better still, to save time, she would run up there first.
+
+Liza had not been gone a quarter of an hour before Madelaine was well on
+her way, after stealing silently out of the house.
+
+The effort to be calm was unavailing, for a wild fit of excitement was
+growing upon her, and instead of walking up the steep cliff-path, she
+nearly ran.
+
+Would Uncle Luke be at home?  He was eccentric and strange in his
+habits, and perhaps by that time out and away fishing off some rocky
+point.
+
+She scanned the rough pier by the harbour, and shuddered as the scene of
+that horrible night came back.  But there was no sign of the old man
+there, neither could she see him farther away, and feeling hopeful that
+perhaps she would be in time to catch him, she hurried on, panting.  As
+she turned a corner of the devious way, and came in sight of the
+cottage, with Leslie's house and mine chimney far up at the back, she
+stopped short, breathless and wondering, and with a strange reaction at
+work, suggesting that, after all, this was some mythical invention on
+the part of the servant, for there stood Duncan Leslie outside Uncle
+Luke's cottage awaiting her coming.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XI.
+
+HER DEFENDER.
+
+"Miss Van Heldre!"
+
+"Mr Leslie!  That woman came to our house this morning to say--Oh,
+then, it is not true?"
+
+"Yes," he said slowly; "it is all true."
+
+"True that--that you were hurt--that--that--Oh, pray speak!  Louise--
+Louise!"
+
+"Gone!" said Leslie hoarsely, and, sick at heart and suffering, he
+leaned back against the wall.
+
+"Gone?  Louise gone?  Gone where?"  Leslie shook his head mournfully,
+and gazed out to sea.
+
+"Why do you not speak?" cried Madelaine.  "Can you not see how your
+silence troubles me?  Mr Leslie, what is the matter?  You were found
+hurt--and Louise--gone!  What does it mean?"
+
+He shook his head again.
+
+"Where is Mr Luke Vine?" cried Madelaine, turning from him quickly.
+
+"At the house."
+
+"Then I have come here for nothing," she cried agitatedly.  "Mr Leslie,
+pray, pray speak."
+
+He looked at her wistfully for a few moments.
+
+"What am I to say?" he said at last.
+
+"Tell me--everything."
+
+He still remained retentive; but there was a grim smile full of pity and
+contempt for himself upon his lips as he said coldly--
+
+"Monsieur De Ligny has been."
+
+"Monsieur De Ligny?"
+
+"The French gentleman, the member of the _haute noblesse_ who was to
+marry Miss Vine."
+
+Madelaine looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"Mr Leslie," she said, laying her hand upon his arm and believing that
+she saw delirium in his eyes, consequent upon his injury, her late
+experience having made her prone to anticipate such a sequel.  "Mr
+Leslie, do you know what you are saying?"
+
+"Yes, perfectly," he said slowly.  "Monsieur De Ligny, the French
+gentleman of whom Miss Marguerite so often talked to me, came last
+night, while Mr Vine was at your father's, and he was persuading Louise
+to go with him, when I interfered and said she should not go till her
+father returned."
+
+"Yes?--well?" said Madelaine, watching him keenly.
+
+"Well, there was a struggle, and I got the worst of it.  That's all."
+
+"That is not all!" cried Madelaine angrily.  "Louise, what did she say?"
+
+"Begged him--not to press her to go," he said slowly and unwillingly, as
+if the words were being dragged out of him.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"That is all," he said, still in the same slow, half-dreamy way.  "I
+heard no more.  When I came to the Vines were helping me, and--"
+
+"Louise?"
+
+"Louise was gone."
+
+"Mr Leslie," said Madelaine gently, as in a gentle, sympathetic way she
+laid her hand upon his arm, "you seem to have been a good deal hurt.  I
+will not press you to speak.  I'm afraid you hardly know what you say.
+This cannot be true."
+
+"Would to Heaven it were not!" he cried passionately.  "You think I am
+wandering.  No, no, no; I wish I could convince myself that it was.  She
+is gone--gone!"
+
+"Gone?  Louise gone?  It cannot be."
+
+"Yes," he said bitterly; "it is true.  I suppose when a man once gets a
+strong hold upon a woman's heart she is ready to be his slave, and obey
+him to the end.  I don't know.  I never won a woman's love."
+
+"His slave--obey--but who--who is this man?"
+
+"Monsieur De Ligny, I suppose.  The French nobleman."
+
+Madelaine made a gesticulation with her hands, as if throwing the idea
+aside.
+
+"No, no, no," he said impatiently.  "It is impossible.  De Ligny--De
+Ligny?  You mean that Louise Vine, my dear friend, my sister, was under
+the influence of some French gentleman unknown to me?"
+
+"Unknown to her father too," said Leslie bitterly, "for he reviled me
+when I told him."
+
+"I cannot do that," said Madelaine firmly; "but I tell you it is not
+true."
+
+"As you will," he said coldly; "but I saw her at his knees last night."
+
+"De Ligny--a French gentleman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I tell you it is impossible."
+
+"But she has gone," said Leslie coldly.
+
+"Gone?  I cannot believe it.  Mr Vine?  He knows where?"
+
+Leslie shook his head mournfully.  "Some secret love," he said.
+
+"Yes; Louise did nurture a secret love," said Madelaine scornfully, "and
+for a man unworthy of her."
+
+"Poor girl!"
+
+"Yes: poor girl!  Shame upon you, Duncan Leslie!  She may be gone for
+some good reason, but it is not as you say and think.  Louise, my
+sister, my poor suffering friend, carry on a clandestine intrigue with
+some French gentleman?  It is not true."
+
+"You forget her aunt--the influence she has had upon the poor girl."
+
+"I forget everything but the fact that Louise loved you, Duncan Leslie,
+with all her heart."
+
+"No, no," he cried with an angry start.
+
+"I tell you it is true," cried Madelaine.
+
+"De Ligny?--a French nobleman?  Absurd!  A fable invented by that poor
+old half-crazy woman to irritate you and scare you away."
+
+"I might have thought so once, but after what I saw last night--"
+
+"A jealous man surrounds all he sees with a glamour of his own," cried
+Madelaine.  "Oh, where is your reason?  How could you be so ready to
+believe it of the truest, sweetest girl that ever lived?"
+
+"But--"
+
+"Don't speak to me," cried Madelaine, angrily.  "You know what that old
+woman is with her wild ideas about birth and position.  Louise, deceive
+her father--cheat me--elope!  Duncan Leslie, I did not think you could
+be so weak."
+
+"I will not fight against your reproaches," he said, coldly.
+
+"No.  Come with me.  Let us go down and see Uncle Luke."
+
+"But you really think--" he faltered.
+
+"I really think?" she cried, with her eyes flashing.  "Am I to lose all
+faith and confidence in you?  I tell you what you say is impossible."
+
+Her words, her manner sent flashes of hope through the darkness that
+haunted Leslie's spirit, and without a word he turned and walked
+hurriedly down with her toward the town till they reached the seat in
+the sheltered niche where he had had that memorable conversation with
+Aunt Marguerite.
+
+There he paused, and pointed to the seat.
+
+"She sat there with me," he said bitterly, "and poured her poison into
+my ears till under a smiling face I felt half mad.  I have tried so hard
+to free myself from their effect, but it has been hard--so hard.  And
+last night--"
+
+"You saw something which shook your confidence in Louise for the moment,
+but that is all gone now."
+
+"I think--I--"
+
+"I vouch for my friend's truth," said Madelaine proudly.  "I tell you
+that you have been deceived."
+
+Leslie was ghastly pale, and the injury he had received and the mental
+agony of the past night made him look ten years older, as he drew in a
+catching breath, and then said hastily--
+
+"Come on, and let us find out the truth."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XII.
+
+AUNT MARGUERITE FINDS A FRIEND.
+
+Uncle Luke met them at the garden gate, and took Madelaine's hands in
+his, drawing her toward him, and kissing her brow.
+
+"Tell me, Mr Luke," she said quickly, "it is not true?"
+
+"What he says is not true, Maddy," said the old man quietly.
+
+"But Louise?"
+
+"Gone, my dear.  Left here last night.  No," he continued, "we know
+nothing except what her letter says.  She has good reason for what she
+has done, no doubt, but it is very terrible for my brother."
+
+Madelaine darted a triumphant look at Leslie.
+
+"Look here, my child," said Uncle Luke, "I am uneasy about George.  Go
+in and see him, and if he says anything about Louie, you will side with
+me and take her part?"
+
+"Do you think I could believe it of Louise?" said Madelaine, proudly.
+
+Uncle Luke held her hand in his, patting it softly the while.
+
+"No," he said, "I don't think you could.  Go to him now.  Tell him it
+will all be cleared up some day, perhaps sooner than we think."
+
+"Where is he?" she said quietly.
+
+"In his study."
+
+She nodded her head with a confident look in her eyes, crossed the hall,
+and tapped at the study door.
+
+"Come in."
+
+The words bidding her to enter were uttered in so calm and
+matter-of-fact a way that Madelaine felt startled, and Uncle Luke's
+words, "I am uneasy about George," came with a meaning they had not
+before possessed.
+
+She entered, and stopped short, for there before the open window, close
+to which was a glass vessel full of water, stood George Vine, busy with
+a microscope, by whose help he was carefully examining the structure of
+some minute organism, while one busy hand made notes upon a sheet of
+paper at his side.
+
+His face was from her, and he was so intent upon his task that he did
+not turn his head.
+
+"Breakfast?" he said quietly.  "I shall not have any.  Yes," he added
+hastily; "bring me a cup of tea, Liza--no sugar, and a little dry
+toast."
+
+A pang shot through Madelaine's heart, and for a few moments she strove
+vainly to speak.
+
+"It is I, Mr Vine," she faltered at last in a voice she did not
+recognise as her own.
+
+"Madelaine, my child!" he cried, starting and dropping his pencil as he
+turned.  "How rude of me!  So intent upon this beautiful preparation of
+mine here.  Very, very glad to see you," he continued, as he took her
+hands in his.  "How is your father this morning?"
+
+"I--I have not seen him this morning," faltered Madelaine as she gazed
+upon the pale, lined face before her, to note the change thereon, in
+spite of the unnatural calmness which the old man had assumed; "I--I
+came on at once, as soon as I had heard."
+
+He drew in a long breath as if her words were cutting him.  Then raising
+her hands to his lips he kissed them tenderly.
+
+"Like you," he said gently, "like you, my child.  There, I have nothing
+to say, nothing to hear."
+
+"But, dear Mr Vine," cried Madelaine, as she clung to him, and her
+tears fell fast, "I am sure--"
+
+He smiled down at her lovingly, as he kissed her hand again.
+
+"Spare me, my child," he said.  "Never mention her name again."
+
+"But, Mr Vine--"
+
+"Hush, my dear!  It is like you," he whispered.  "Good, gentle, and
+forgiving.  Let the whole of the past be dead."
+
+"But, Mr Vine, Louise--"
+
+"Hush!" he said sternly.  "There, come and sit down and talk to me.  No,
+my dear, I had a nasty fainting attack last night, but I am not mad.
+You need not fear that.  Let the past be dead, my child.  Will you bring
+me some tea?"
+
+Madelaine's face worked pitifully, as she clung to him for a few
+moments, and then, as he resumed his place at the table, she felt that
+the hour was not opportune, and turned to leave the room.
+
+At that moment there was a gentle tap at the door.
+
+"See who that is, my child," said Vine, quietly; "and do not let me be
+interrupted.  If it is my brother, ask him not to speak to me to-day."
+
+Madelaine crossed quickly to the old man's side, bent over him, and
+kissed his forehead, before going to the door, to find Uncle Luke
+waiting.
+
+"Maddy," he whispered, "tell my brother that Margaret wants him to see
+her.  Ask him if she may come in."
+
+Madelaine took the message, and felt startled at the angry look in the
+old man's face.
+
+"No," he cried peremptorily.  "I could not bear to see her.  Maddy, my
+darling, you are almost like a daughter to me.  You know all.  Tell her
+from me to keep to her room, I could not trust myself to see her now."
+
+Madelaine clung to him, with the tears gathering in her eyes.  From her
+earliest childhood she had looked up to him as to some near relative who
+had treated her as he had treated his own child--her companion, Louise--
+and now as she saw the agony depicted in his face, she suffered with
+him, and in her womanly sympathy her tears still fell fast.
+
+"But, dear Mr Vine," she whispered, "forgive me for pressing you at
+such a time, but there is some mistake."
+
+"Yes," he said sternly; and she shivered as she saw how he was changed,
+and heard how harsh his voice had grown.  "Yes, Madelaine, my child,
+there has been a terrible mistake made by a weak, infatuated man, who
+acted on impulse and never let his mind stray from the hobby he
+pursued--mine."
+
+"Mr Vine!"
+
+"Hush, my child, I know.  You are going to say words that I could not
+bear to hear now.  I know what I have done, I see it too plainly now.
+In my desire to play a kindly brother's part, I let that of a father
+lapse, and my punishment has come--doubly come."
+
+"If you would only let me speak," she whispered.
+
+"Not now--not now.  I want strength first to bear my punishment, to bear
+it patiently as a man."
+
+It seemed to be no time to argue and plead her friend's cause, but she
+still clung to him.
+
+"Bear with me," he whispered.  "I am not going to reproach you for what
+you have said.  There, my dear, leave me now."
+
+Madelaine sighed, and with her brow wrinkled by the lines of care, she
+stood watching the old man as he bent over his microscope once more, and
+then softly left the room.
+
+"Well?" said Uncle Luke eagerly, as she joined him in the hall.  "What
+does he say?"
+
+"That he will not see her.  That he could not trust himself to meet her
+now."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Madelaine started, and turned sharply round as a piteous wail fell upon
+her ears.
+
+Aunt Marguerite was standing within the dining-room door, wringing her
+hands, and looking wild and strange.
+
+"I can't bear it," she cried.  "I can't bear it.  He thinks it is my
+fault.  Go in and tell him, Luke.  He must not, he shall not blame me."
+
+"Let him alone for a bit," said Luke coldly.
+
+"But he thinks it is all my fault.  I want to tell him--I want him to
+know that it is no fault of mine."
+
+"Can't convince him of impossibilities," said Uncle Luke coldly.
+
+"And you think it, too!" cried Aunt Marguerite passionately.  "I will
+see him."
+
+"Go up to your room and wait a bit.  That's the best advice I can give
+you."
+
+"But George will--"
+
+"Say things to you that will be rather startling to your vain old brain,
+Madge, if you force yourself upon him, and I'll take care that you do
+not."
+
+"And this is my brother!" cried Aunt Marguerite indignantly.
+
+"Uncle Luke is right," said Madelaine quietly, speaking of him as in the
+old girlish days.  "If I might advise you, Miss Vine."
+
+"Miss Margue--No, no," cried the old lady, hastily.  "Miss Vine; yes,
+Miss Vine.  You will help me, my child.  I want my brother to know that
+it is not my fault."
+
+The old contemptuous manner was gone, and she caught Madelaine's arm and
+pressed it spasmodically with her bony fingers.
+
+"You could not go to Mr Vine at a worse time," said Madelaine.  "He is
+suffering acutely."
+
+"But if you come with me," whispered Aunt Marguerite.  "Oh, my child, I
+have been very, very hard to you, but you will not turn and trample on
+me now I am down."
+
+"I will help you all I can," said Madelaine gravely; "and I am helping
+you now in advising you to wait."
+
+"I--I thought it was for me best," sobbed the old lady piteously.
+"Hush! don't speak to me aloud.  Mr Leslie may hear."
+
+She glanced sharply round to where Leslie was standing with his back to
+them, gazing moodily from the window.
+
+"Yes; Mr Leslie may hear," said Madelaine sadly, and then in spite of
+the long years of dislike engendered by Aunt Marguerite's treatment, she
+felt her heart stirred by pity for the lonely, suffering old creature
+upon whose head was being visited the sufferings of the stricken
+household.
+
+"Let me go with you to your room," she said gently.
+
+"No, no!" cried Aunt Marguerite, with a frightened look.  "You hate me
+too, and you will join the others in condemning me.  Let me go to my
+brother now."
+
+"It would be madness," said Madelaine gently; and she tried to take the
+old woman's hand, but at that last word, Aunt Marguerite started from
+her, and stretched out her hands to keep her off.
+
+"Don't say that," she said in a low voice, and with a quick glance at
+her brother and at Leslie, to see if they had heard.  Then catching
+Madelaine's hand, she whispered, "It is such a horrible word.  Luke said
+it to me before you came.  He said I must be mad, and George might hear
+it and think so too."
+
+"Let me go with you to your room."
+
+"But--but," faltered the old woman, with her lips quivering, and a
+wildly appealing look in her eyes, "you--you don't think that."
+
+"No," said Madelaine quietly; "I do not think that."
+
+Aunt Marguerite uttered a sigh full of relief.
+
+"I only think," continued Madelaine in her matter-of-fact,
+straightforward way, "that you have been very vain, prejudiced, and
+foolish, but I am wrong to reproach you now."
+
+"No, no," whispered Aunt Marguerite, clinging to her, and looking at her
+in an abject, piteous way; "you are quite right, my dear.  Come with me,
+talk to me, my child.  I deserve what you say, and--and I feel so lonely
+now."
+
+She glanced again at her brother and Leslie, and her grasp of
+Madelaine's arm grew painful.
+
+"Yes," she whispered, with an excited look; "you are right, I must not
+go to him now.  Don't let them think that of me.  I know--I've been
+very--very foolish, but don't--don't let them think that."
+
+She drew Madelainc toward the door, and in pursuance of her helpful
+_role_, the latter went with her patiently, any resentment which she
+might have felt toward her old enemy, falling away at the pitiful signs
+of abject misery and dread before her; the reigning idea in the old
+lady's mind now being that her brothers would nurture some plan to get
+rid of her, whose result would be one at which she shuddered, as in her
+heart of hearts she knew that if such extreme measures were taken, her
+conduct for years would give plenty of excuse.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XIII.
+
+HALF CONVERTED.
+
+"Well, Leslie," said Uncle Luke, as he stood gazing at the closed door
+through which the two women had passed, "what do you think of that?"
+
+"Think of that?" said Leslie absently.
+
+"Those two.  Deadly enemies grown friends.  My sister will be adopting
+you directly, you miserable, low-born Scotch pleb, without a drop of
+noble French blood in your veins."
+
+"Poor old woman!" said Leslie absently.
+
+"Ah, poor old woman!  Margaret and I ought to be shut up together in
+some private asylum.  Well, you have slept on all that?"
+
+"No," said Leslie sadly.  "I have not slept."
+
+"You're--well, I won't say what you are--well?"
+
+"Well?" said Leslie sadly.
+
+"You have come to your senses I hope."
+
+"Had I lost them?"
+
+"_Pro tem._, young man.  And it is a usurpation of our rights.  One
+lunatic family is enough in a town.  We're all off our heads, so you had
+better keep sane."
+
+Leslie remained silently thinking over Madelaine's words.
+
+"Look here," said Uncle Luke, "I have slept upon it, and I am cool."
+
+"What have you learned, sir?"
+
+"Nothing but what I knew last night--at present."
+
+"And what do you propose doing?"
+
+"I propose trying to act as nearly like a quite sensible man as one of
+my family can."
+
+"And Mr Vine?"
+
+"As much like a lunatic as he can.  You had better take his side and
+leave me alone.  He is of your opinion."
+
+"And you remain steadfast in yours?"
+
+"Of course, sir.  I've known my niece from a child, as I told you last
+night; and she could not behave like a weak, foolish, brainless girl,
+infatuated over some handsome scoundrel."
+
+"But Miss Marguerite--have you questioned her?"
+
+"Might as well question a weather-cock.  Knows nothing, or pretends she
+knows nothing.  There, I'm going to start at once and see if I cannot
+trace her out.  While I'm gone I should feel obliged if you would keep
+an eye on my cottage; one way and another there are quite a couple of
+pounds' worth of things up yonder which I should not like to have
+stolen.  You may as well come down here too, and see how my brother is
+going on.  Now then, I'll just step down to Van Heldre's and say a word
+before I start."
+
+"By what train shall you go?"
+
+"Train?  Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten trains.  Hateful way of
+travelling, but saves time.  Must arrange to be driven over to catch one
+at mid-day.  Come and see me off."
+
+"Yes," said Leslie, "I'll come and see you off.  What shall you take
+with you?"
+
+"Tooth-brush and comb," grunted Uncle Luke.  "Dessay I shall find a bit
+of soap somewhere.  Now then, have you anything to say before I go?"
+
+"There is no occasion; we can make our plans as we go up."
+
+"We?"
+
+"Yes: I am going with you."
+
+Uncle Luke smiled.
+
+"I knew you would," he said, quietly chuckling.
+
+"You knew I should?  Why did you think that?"
+
+"Because you're only a big boy after all, Duncan, and show how fond you
+are of Louie at every turn."
+
+"I am not ashamed to own that I loved her," said the young man,
+bitterly.
+
+"Loved?" said Uncle Luke, quietly.  "Wonder what love's like, to make a
+man such a goose.  Don't be a sham, Leslie.  You always meant to go.
+You said to yourself, when you thought ill of the poor girl, you would
+go after her and try and break the man's neck."
+
+"Not exactly, sir."
+
+"Well, something of the kind.  And now Maddy Van Heldre has been giving
+you a good setting down, and showing you what a weak baby you are--"
+
+"Has Miss Van Heldre--"
+
+"No, Miss Van Heldre has not said a word; but your face is as plain as a
+newspaper, and I know what Maddy would say if anybody attacked my niece.
+There, what's the use of talking?  You will say with your lips that
+Louise is nothing to you now, and that you believe she has eloped with
+some French scoundrel."
+
+Leslie bit his lip and made an impatient gesture.
+
+"While that noble countenance of yours, of which you are so proud, has
+painted upon it love and trust and hope, and all the big-boy nonsense in
+which young men indulge when they think they are only a half, which
+needs another half to make them complete."
+
+"I am not going to quarrel with you," said Leslie, flushing angrily, all
+the same.
+
+"No, my boy, you are not.  You are coming with me, my unfortunate young
+hemisphere, to try and find that other half to which you shall some day
+be joined to make you a complete little world of trouble of your own, to
+roll slowly up the hill of life, hang on the top for a few hours, and
+then roll rapidly down.  There, we have wasted time enough in talking,
+and I'll hold off.  Thank ye, though, Leslie, you're a good fellow after
+all."
+
+He held out his hand, which Leslie slowly took, and Uncle Luke was
+shaking it warmly as Madelaine re-entered the room.
+
+"Well," said the old man grimly, "have you put the baby to bed?"
+
+"Uncle Luke!" said Madelaine imploringly; "pray be serious and help us."
+
+"Serious, my girl!  I was never so serious before.  I only called
+Margaret a baby.  So she is in intellect, and a very troublesome and
+mischievous one.  Glad to see though that my little matter-of-fact Dutch
+doll has got the better of her.  Why, Maddy, henceforth you'll be able
+to lead her with a silken string."
+
+"Uncle Luke dear--Louise," said Madelaine imploringly.
+
+"Ah, to be sure, yes, Louise," said the old man with his eyes twinkling
+mischievously.  "Circumstances alter cases.  Now look here, you two.
+I'm only an old man, and of course thoroughly in your confidence.  Sort
+of respectable go-between.  Why shouldn't I try and make you two happy?"
+
+Leslie bit his lip, and Madelaine gave the old man an imploring look;
+but in a mocking way, he went on.
+
+"Now suppose I say to you two, what can be better than for you to join
+hands--partners for life you know, and--"
+
+"Mr Luke Vine!" cried Leslie sternly, "setting aside the insult to me,
+is this gentlemanly, to annoy Miss Van Heldre with your mocking,
+ill-chosen jokes?"
+
+"Hark at the hot-blooded Scotchman, Maddy; and look here how pleasantly
+and patiently my little Dutch doll takes it, bless her!"
+
+He put his arm round Madelaine and held her to his side.
+
+"Why, what are you ruffling up for in that fashion?  Only a few minutes
+ago you were swearing that you hated Louie, and that you gave her up to
+the French nobleman--French nobleman, Maddy!--and I offer you a pleasant
+anodyne for your sore heart--and a very pleasant anodyne too, eh, Maddy?
+Ah, don't--don't cry--hang it all, girl, don't.  I do hate to see a
+woman with wet eyes.  Now what have you got to sob about?"
+
+"Is this helping us?"
+
+"No.  But I'm going to, little one.  I was obliged to stick something
+into Leslie, here.  He is such a humbug.  Swore he didn't care a bit for
+Louie now, and that he believed everything that was bad of her, and yet
+look at his face."
+
+"It is impossible to quarrel with you, sir," said Leslie, with the look
+of a human mastiff.
+
+"Of course it is," cried Uncle Luke.  "Well, Maddy, I've converted him.
+He sees now that it's a puzzle we don't understand, and he is coming up
+to town with me to solve the problem."
+
+"I knew he would," cried Madelaine warmly.  "Mr Leslie, I am very, very
+glad."
+
+"Of course, you are; and as soon as I bring Louie back, and all is
+cleared, Leslie shall come and congratulate us.  D'ye hear, Leslie?  I'm
+going to marry Madelaine.  Marry her and stop up in the churchyard
+afterwards," he said with a grim smile full of piteous sadness.
+
+"Uncle Luke!"
+
+"Well, it's right enough, my dear.  At my time of life hardly worth
+while to make two journeys up to the churchyard.  So you could leave me
+there and go back, and take possession of my estate."
+
+"Louise."
+
+"Ah, yes.  I mustn't forget Louise," said the old man.  "Let's see--
+about Margaret.  Leave her all right?"
+
+"Yes; she is more calm now."
+
+"Did you question her, and get to know anything?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated the old man.  "Close as an oyster, or else she
+doesn't know anything."
+
+"That is what I think," said Madelaine eagerly.
+
+"Ah, well, we are only wasting time," said Uncle Luke testily.  "So now,
+Leslie, business.  First thing we have to do is to go up to London.  No:
+first thing, Maddy, is to run on to your house, and tell them what we
+are going to do.  You'll have to stay here, my dear, and look after
+those two.  Comfort George all you can; drive him with that silken
+thread rein of yours, and keep a good tight curb over Margaret.  There,
+you'll manage them."
+
+"Yes.  Tell them at home I think it better to stay here now," said
+Madelaine earnestly.  "You will send me every scrap of news?"
+
+"Leslie and I are going to secure the wire and ruin ourselves in
+telegrams.  Ready, Miner?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then come on."
+
+Madelaine caught Leslie's extended hand, and leaned towards him.
+
+"My life on it," she whispered, "Louise is true."
+
+He wrung her hand and hurried away.
+
+"Good-bye, Uncle Luke.  Be happy about them here; and, mind, we are
+dying for news."
+
+"Ah! yes; I know," he said testily; and he walked away--turned back, and
+caught Madelaine to his breast.  "Good-bye, Dutch doll.  God bless you,
+my darling," he said huskily.  "If I could only bring back poor Harry
+too!"
+
+Madelaine stood wiping the tears from her eyes as the old man hurried
+off after Leslie, but she wiped another tear away as well, one which
+rested on her cheek, a big salt tear that ought almost to have been a
+fossil globule of crystallised water and salt.  It was the first Uncle
+Luke had shed for fifty years.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XIV.
+
+A HARD TEST.
+
+"Harry, dear Harry!" said Louise, as they stood together in a
+shabbily-furnished room in one of the streets off Tottenham Court Road,
+"I feel at times as if it would drive me mad.  Pray, pray let me write!"
+
+"Not yet, I tell you; not yet," he said angrily.  "Wait till we are
+across the Channel, and then you shall."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Louie!" he half shouted at her, "have some patience."
+
+"Patience, dear?  Think of our father's agony of mind.  He loves us."
+
+"Then the joy of finding we are both alive and well must compensate for
+what he suffers now."
+
+"But you do not realise what must be thought of me."
+
+"Oh, yes, I do," he said bitterly; "but you do not realise what would be
+thought of me, if it were known that I was alive.  I shiver every time I
+meet a policeman.  Can't you see how I am placed?"
+
+"Yes--yes," said Louise wearily; "but at times I can only think of our
+father--of Madelaine--of Uncle Luke."
+
+"Hush!" he cried with an irritable stamp of the foot.  "Have patience.
+Once we are on the Continent I shall feel as if I could breathe; but
+this wretched dilatory way of getting money worries me to death."
+
+"Then why not sell the jewels, and let us go?"
+
+"That's talking like a woman again.  It's very easy to talk about
+selling the jewels, and it is easy to sell them if you go to some
+blackguard who will take advantage of your needs and give you next to
+nothing for them.  But, as Pradelle says--"
+
+"Pradelle!" ejaculated Louise, with a look of dislike crossing her face.
+
+"Yes, Pradelle.  That's right, speak ill of the only friend we have.
+Why, we owe everything to him.  What could we have done?  Where could we
+have gone if it had not been for him, and my finding out where he was
+through asking at the old meeting-place?"
+
+"I do not like Mr Pradelle," said Louise firmly.
+
+"Then you ought to," said Harry, as he walked up and down the room like
+some caged animal.  "As he says, if you go to sell the things at a
+respectable place they'll ask all manner of questions that it is not
+convenient to answer, and we must not risk detection by doing that."
+
+"Risk detection?" said Louise, clasping her hands about one knee as she
+gazed straight before her.
+
+"The people here are as suspicious of us as can be, and the landlady
+seems ready to ask questions every time we meet on the stairs."
+
+"Yes," said Louise in a sad, weary way; "she is always asking
+questions."
+
+"But you do not answer them?"
+
+"I--I hardly know what I have said, Harry.  She is so pertinacious."
+
+"We must leave here," said the young man excitedly.  "Why don't Pradelle
+come?"
+
+"Do you expect him to-night?"
+
+"Expect him?  Yes.  I have only half-a-crown left, and he has your gold
+chain to pledge.  He is to bring the money to-night.  I expected him
+before."
+
+"Harry, dear."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Do you think Mr Pradelle is trustworthy?"
+
+"As trustworthy as most people," said the young man carelessly.  "Yes,
+of course.  He is obliged to be."
+
+"But could you not pledge the things yourself instead of trusting him?"
+
+"No," he cried, with an impatient stamp.  "You know how I tried and how
+the assistant began to question and stare at me, till I snatched the
+thing out of his hands and hurried out of the shop.  I'd sooner beg than
+try to do it again."
+
+Louise was silent for a few moments, and sat gazing thoughtfully before
+her.
+
+"Let me write Harry, telling everything, and asking my father to send us
+money."
+
+"Send for the police at once.  There, open the windows, and call the
+first one up that you see pass.  It will be the shortest way."
+
+"But I am sure, dear--"
+
+"Once more, so am I.  At the present moment I am free.  Let me have my
+liberty to begin life over again honestly, repentantly, and with the
+earnest desire to redeem the past.  Will you let me have that?"
+
+"Of course--of course, dear."
+
+"Then say no more to me about communicating with home."
+
+Louise was silent again, beaten once more by her brother's arguments in
+her desire to see him redeem the past.
+
+"Harry," she said at last, after her brother had been standing with his
+cheek pressed against the window-pane, looking down the street in search
+of the expected visitor.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you that Mr Pradelle is trying to keep us
+here?"
+
+"Absurd!"
+
+"No: I feel sure it is so, and that he does not want us to go away.  Let
+me take my bracelets and necklet to one of those places where they buy
+jewellery or lend money."
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes.  Why not?"
+
+"Are you mad?"
+
+"No.  Why should I not sell what is my own?"
+
+"Can you not understand?" cried Harry, whose voice sounded harsh from
+the mental irritation which had given him the look of one in constant
+dread of arrest.
+
+"No, dear, I cannot.  I want to help you.  I want to get away from
+here--to remove you from the influence of this man, so that we may, if
+it must be so, get abroad and then set them at rest."
+
+"Now you are bringing that up again," he cried angrily.
+
+"I must, Harry, I must.  I have been too weak as it is; but in the
+excitement of all that trouble I seemed to be influenced by you in all I
+did."
+
+"There, there, little sis," he said more gently.  "I ought not to speak
+so crossly, but I am always on thorns, held back as I am for want of a
+few paltry pounds."
+
+"Then let me go and dispose of these things."
+
+"It is impossible."
+
+"No, dear, you think of the degradation.  I should not be ashamed.  We
+have made a false step, Harry, but if we must go on, let me do what I
+can to help you.  Let me go."
+
+"But the beggarly disgrace.  You don't know what you are going to
+undertake."
+
+She looked at him with her frank, clear eyes.
+
+"I am going to help you.  There can be no disgrace in disposing of these
+trinkets for you to escape."
+
+"Ah! at last!" cried Harry, leaving the window to hurry to the door,
+regardless of the look of dislike which came into his sister's face.
+
+"Is that Mr Pradelle?" she said shrinkingly.
+
+"Yes, at last.  No, Louie, I'm bad enough, but I'm not going to send you
+to the pawnbroker's while I stop hiding here, and it's all right now."
+
+"Ah, Harry!  Day, Miss Louie," said Pradelle, entering, very fashionably
+dressed, and with a rose in his buttonhole.  "Nice weather, isn't it?"
+
+"Look here, Vic," cried Harry, catching him by the arm.  "How much did
+you get?"
+
+"Get?"
+
+"Yes; for the chain?"
+
+"Oh, for the chain," said Pradelle, who kept his eyes fixed on Louise.
+"Nothing, old fellow."
+
+"Nothing?"
+
+"Haven't taken it to the right place yet."
+
+"And you promised to.  Look here, what do you mean?"
+
+"What do I mean?  Well, I like that.  Hear him, Miss Louie?  What a
+fellow he is!  Here have I got him into decent apartments, where he is
+safe as the bank, when if he had depended upon himself he would have
+taken you to some slum where you would have been stopped and the police
+have found you out."
+
+"You promised to pledge those things for me."
+
+"Of course I did, and so I will.  Why, if you had been left to yourself,
+who would have taken you in without a reference?"
+
+"Never mind that," said Harry, so angrily that Louise rose, went to his
+side, and laid her hand upon his arm.  "If you don't want to help me,
+say so."
+
+"If I don't want to help you!  Why, look here, Miss Louie, I appeal to
+you.  Haven't I helped him again and again?  Haven't I lent him money,
+and acted as a friend should?"
+
+"Why haven't you pledged that chain?" said Harry.
+
+"Because people are so suspicious, and I was afraid.  There, you have
+the truth."
+
+"I don't believe it," cried Harry, excitedly.
+
+"Well then, don't.  Your sister will.  If you want me to bring the
+police on your track, say so."
+
+In a furtive way, he noted Harry's start of dread, and went on.
+
+"Take the chain or a watch yourself, and if the pawnbroker is
+suspicious, he'll either detain it till you can give a good account of
+how you came by it, or send for a policeman to follow you to your
+lodgings."
+
+"But I am quite penniless!" cried Harry.
+
+"Then why didn't you say so, old fellow?  Long as I've got a pound
+you're welcome to it, and always were.  I'm not a fine-weather friend,
+you know that.  There you are, two halves.  That'll keep you going for a
+week."
+
+"But I don't want to keep borrowing of you," said Harry.  "We have
+enough to do what I want.  A sovereign will do little more than pay for
+these lodgings."
+
+"Enough for a day or two, old fellow, and do for goodness' sake have a
+little more faith in a man you have proved."
+
+"I have faith in you, Vic, and I'm very grateful; but this existence
+maddens me.  I want enough to get us across the Channel.  I must and
+will go."
+
+"Right into the arms of those who are searching for you.  What a baby
+you are, Harry!  Do you want to be told again that every boat which
+starts for the Continent will be watched?"
+
+Harry made a despairing gesture, and his haggard countenance told
+plainly of the agony he suffered.
+
+"My dear Miss Louie," continued Pradelle, "do pray help me to bring him
+to reason.  You must see that you are both safe here, and that it is the
+wisest thing to wait patiently till the worst of the pursuit is over."
+
+"We do not know that there is any pursuit, Mr Pradelle," said Louise
+coldly.
+
+"Come, I like that!" cried Pradelle, in an ill-used tone.  "I thought I
+told you that they were searching for you both.  If you like to believe
+that you can leave your home as you did without your people making any
+search, why you have a right to."
+
+Harry began pacing the room, while Pradelle went on in a low, pleading
+way--
+
+"Ever since Harry came to me, I thought I had done all that a friend
+could, but if I can do more, Miss Louie, you've only get to tell me
+what, and it shall be done."
+
+"You've done your best, Prad," said Harry.
+
+"Yes, but you don't think it.  I could go and do all kinds of rash
+things; but I've been working to throw them off the scent, and I don't
+think, so far, I've done amiss.  You're not taken yet."
+
+Harry drew a long breath and glanced at door and window, as if for a way
+of escape.
+
+"Come, that's better," cried Pradelle.  "Take a more cheerful view of
+things.  You want change, Harry.  You've been shut up too much.  Have a
+cigar," he continued, drawing out his case.  "No?  I beg your pardon,
+Miss Louie.  Oughtn't to ask him to smoke here."
+
+Harry shook his head impatiently.
+
+"Yes; have one, old fellow.  They're good.  Take two or three; and, look
+here: go and have a walk up and down for an hour.  It's getting dusk
+now."
+
+Louise gave her brother an excited look, which did not escape Pradelle.
+"Let's all go," he said.  "We might go along the back streets as far as
+the park.  Do you both good."
+
+"No, no," said Harry sharply.  "I shall not go out."
+
+"Go together, then," said Pradelle, half mockingly.  "I don't want to
+intrude; but for goodness' sake, man, try and have a little change; it
+would make life move different, and you'd be more ready to take a
+friend's advice."
+
+"What advice?"
+
+"To settle down here.  London's the best place in the world for hiding
+yourself."
+
+"Don't talk to me any more, old fellow," said Harry.  "I'm out of
+temper.  I can't help it."
+
+"All right, lad.  I'll go now; and you get him out, Miss Louie, do.
+It's the best thing for him."
+
+Harry made an impatient gesture, and threw himself in a chair.
+
+"You shall do as you like, and I'll raise all the money for you that I
+can," said Pradelle, rising to go; "but take things more coolly.
+Good-bye, old boy."
+
+"Good-bye," said Harry, shaking hands limply.
+
+"Good-bye," said Pradelle, as Harry turned away to rest his aching head
+upon his hand.  "Miss Louie!"
+
+He gave his head a jerk towards the door, and Louise rose and followed
+him.
+
+"Come outside," he whispered.  "I want to speak to you."
+
+"Mr Pradelle can say what he has to say here."
+
+"But it's about him."
+
+"Well, Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"Well, Miss Louie, I only wanted to say that some day you'll find out
+who is your true friend.  I want to help you both.  I do, on my honour."
+
+"Your honour!" thought Louise.
+
+"Have a little more confidence in a man if you can.  I do want to help
+you.  Good-bye."
+
+He held out his hand, and she felt constrained to give him hers, which
+he held, and, after glancing hastily at Harry, raised to his lips; but
+the kiss he imprinted was on the yielding air, for the hand was snatched
+indignantly away.
+
+"You'll know me better by and by," said Pradelle; and giving her a
+peculiar look, he left the room.
+
+Louise stood for a few minutes gazing after him, her brow knit and her
+eyes thoughtful.  Then, going back to where her brother sat with his
+head resting upon his hand, she laid hers upon his shoulder.
+
+"Harry, dear," she said firmly, "that man is fighting against us."
+
+"Rubbish," he cried impatiently.  "You never liked Pradelle."
+
+"Better for you if you had hated him.  Harry, he is striving to keep us
+here."
+
+"Nonsense!  Don't talk to me now."
+
+"I must, Harry.  You must act, and decisively."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Either you must raise money at once, and go right away from here--"
+
+He looked up sharply.
+
+"No, I do not mean that," she said sadly.  "I will not leave you till
+you are fit to leave; but you must either act as I advise at once, or I
+shall do what I think best."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Write to our father to come and help us, for you are too weak and
+broken down to protect me."
+
+"Louie!" he cried excitedly; "I am not so weak as you think.  I will
+act; I will take your advice."
+
+"And get rid of this Mr Pradelle?"
+
+"Anything you like, Louie, only don't let them know at home--yet, and
+don't leave me.  If you did I should break down at once."
+
+"Then will you be guided by me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And take these jewels yourself and raise money?"
+
+"Yes; but it is too late now."
+
+Louise glanced at the window, and in her ignorance of such matters half
+felt the truth of his words.
+
+"Then to-morrow you will do as I wish?"
+
+"Yes, to-morrow," he said wearily.
+
+"Put not off until to-morrow--" said Louise softly to herself; and she
+stood watching her brother as he sat with bended head, weak, broken, and
+despairing, in the gathering gloom.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XV.
+
+AN OLD FRIEND--OR ENEMY?
+
+"Where shall we stay?  I'll show you," said Uncle Luke, after giving
+instructions to the cabman.  "My old hotel in Surrey Street.
+Comfortable, motherly woman.  No nonsense."
+
+"And what do you propose doing?"
+
+"Let's hear first what you propose," shouted the old man, so as to make
+his voice heard above the rattle of the cab-windows--four-wheelers
+Jehu's enemies, which lose him many a fare.
+
+"I have nothing to propose," said Leslie sadly; "only to find her."
+
+"And I've given you twenty-four hours to think it out, including last
+night at Plymouth."
+
+"My head is in a whirl, sir; I am in no condition to think.  Pray
+suggest something."
+
+"Hah!  The old folks are useful, then, after all.  Well, then, you would
+like to hear my plans?"
+
+Leslie nodded.
+
+"First, then, there is a good tea, with some meat; and while we are
+having that I shall send off a messenger."
+
+"To find them?"
+
+"No.  Wait."
+
+Leslie had found out that the best way to deal with Uncle Luke was to
+treat him like a conger-eel, such as they caught among the rocks about
+Hakemouth.  Once hooked, if the fisher dragged at the line, the snaky
+monster pulled and fought till the line cut into the holder's hands, and
+sometimes was broken or the hook torn out; whereas, if instead of
+pulling, the creature had its head given, it began to swim up rapidly,
+and placed itself within reach of the gaff.  So, in spite of his fretful
+irritation of mind, he allowed the old man to have his own way.
+
+The result was, that before they sat down to their meal at the quiet
+hotel, Uncle Luke wrote a letter, which was dispatched by special
+messenger, after which he ate heartily; while Leslie played with a cup
+of tea and a piece of dry toast.
+
+"Not the way to do work," said Uncle Luke grimly.  "Eat, man; eat.  Coal
+and coke to make the human engine get up steam."
+
+Leslie made an effort to obey, but everything seemed distasteful, and he
+took refuge behind a paper till the waiter entered with a card.
+
+"Hah! yes: show him in," said Uncle Luke.  "Here he is, Leslie," he
+continued.
+
+"Here who is?"
+
+"Parkins."
+
+"Parkins?"
+
+"Sergeant Parkins.  You remember?"
+
+Leslie had forgotten the name, but directly after the whole scene of the
+search for Harry came back as the quiet, decisive-looking detective
+officer entered the room, nodded shortly to both, and after taking the
+seat indicated, looked inquiringly at Uncle Luke.
+
+"At your service, sir," he said.  "You've brought me some news about
+that affair down yonder?"
+
+"No," said Uncle Luke.  "I have come to see if you can help us in
+another way;" and he told him the object of his visit.
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated their visitor.  "Yes, that's different, sir;" and
+taking out a notebook, he began to ask question after question on points
+which seemed to him likely to be useful, till he had gained all the
+information he thought necessary, when he closed the book with a snap,
+and buttoned it up in his breast.
+
+"Rather curious fact, sir," he said, looking at both in turn; "but I've
+been thinking about Hakemouth a good deal this last day or two."
+
+"Why?" asked Uncle Luke shortly.
+
+"I've been away all over the Continent for some time--forgery case, and
+that Hakemouth business has gone no farther.  As soon as I got back, and
+was free, I wanted something to do, so I said to myself that I'd take it
+on again, and I have."
+
+"Oh, never mind that now," said Leslie angrily.  "Can you help us here?"
+
+"I don't know, sir.  I shall try; but I might mention to you that we
+think we have obtained a clue to the gentleman who escaped."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Leslie impatiently; "but can you help us here?"
+
+"Give me time, sir, and I'll do my best," said the sergeant.  "Not an
+easy task, sir, you know.  A needle is hard to find in a bottle of hay,
+and all the clue you give me is that a lady left your neighbourhood with
+a French gentleman.  Fortunately I did see the lady, and should know her
+again.  Good morning."
+
+"But what are we to do?" said Leslie eagerly.
+
+"You, sir?" said the sergeant quietly, and with a suspicion of contempt
+in his tone.  "Oh, you'd better wait."
+
+"Wait!" cried Leslie, in a voice full of suppressed rage.
+
+"And practise patience," muttered the man.  "One moment, sir," he said
+aloud.  "You saw this French gentleman?"
+
+"I saw him, but not his face.  Mr Vine here told you; the light was
+overturned."
+
+"But you saw his figure, the man's shape?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"And you heard his voice?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Broken French?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now, sir, just think a moment.  I have a slight idea.  French name--
+spoke--"
+
+"We mentioned no name."
+
+"One minute, sir.  Spoke French--brother's fellow-clerk and intimate--
+gentleman who went off--been staying at the house--long time in the
+lady's society.  What do you say now to its being this Mr Pradelle?"
+
+Uncle Luke gave the table a thump which made the tea-things rattle, and
+Leslie started from his seat, gazing wildly at the officer, who smiled
+rather triumphantly.
+
+"Great heavens!" faltered Leslie, as if a new light had flashed into his
+darkened mind.
+
+"Of course, sir, this is only a suggestion," said the sergeant.  "It is
+all new to me, but seems likely."
+
+"No," said Uncle Luke emphatically, "no.  She would never have gone off
+with him."
+
+"Very good, gentlemen.  I'll see what I can do at once."
+
+"One moment," said Leslie, as he slipped some notes into the man's hand.
+"You will spare neither time nor money."
+
+"I will not, sir."
+
+"Tell me one thing.  What shall you do first?"
+
+"Just the opposite to what you've done, gentlemen," said the officer.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Go down to Hakemouth by to-night's mail, and work back to town."
+
+"I feel certain," said Leslie, "that he brought her to London to take
+tickets for France."
+
+"I don't, sir, yet.  But even if I did, it's a long bridge from here to
+Cornwall, and I might find them resting in one of the recesses.  You
+leave it to me, sir.  Good-day.  Humph!" he added as he went out; "plain
+as a pikestaff.  Women are womanly, and I have known instances of a
+woman sticking to a man for no reason whatever, except that he was a
+scamp, and sometimes the greater the scamp the tighter the tie.
+Pradelle's my man, and I think I can put my thumb upon him before long."
+
+"No, Leslie, no.  Louie wouldn't look at him.  That's not the clue,"
+said Uncle Luke.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XVI.
+
+THE NEEDLE IN A BOTTLE OF HAY.
+
+A week of anxiety, with the breaks in it of interviews with Sergeant
+Parkins, who had very little to communicate; but still that little was
+cogent.
+
+He had been down to Hakemouth, and by careful inquiry had tracked the
+missing pair to Plymouth, where he had missed them.  But, after the
+fashion of a huntsman, he made long casts round and picked up the clue
+at Exeter, where a porter remembered them from what sounded like an
+altercation in a second-class compartment, where a dark young lady was
+in tears, and the "gent" who was with her said something to her sharply
+in a foreign tongue.  Pressed as to what it was like, he said it sounded
+as if the gent said "Taisey."
+
+There the sergeant had lost the clue; but he had learned enough to
+satisfy himself that the fugitives had been making for London, unless
+they had branched off at Bristol, which was hardly likely.
+
+"Come up to London," said Leslie.  "Well, that is what we surmised
+before we applied to you."
+
+"Exactly, sir; but I have nearly made your surmise a certainty."
+
+"Yes, nearly," said Leslie bitterly.
+
+"We must have time, sir.  A hunter does not secure his game by rushing
+at it.  He stalks it."
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Luke in assent, "and of course you must be certain.
+This is not a criminal matter."
+
+"No, sir, of course not," said the sergeant dryly, and with a meaning in
+his tone which the others did not detect.
+
+"If you are successful in finding their whereabouts, mind that your task
+ends there.  You will give us due notice, and we will see to the rest."
+
+"Certainly, sir; and I have men on the look out.  The bottle of hay is
+being pretty well tossed over, and some day I hope to see the shine of
+the needle among the puzzling dry strands.  Good morning."
+
+"Is that man a humbug, sir, or in earnest?"
+
+"Earnest," replied Uncle Luke.  "He proved that before."
+
+If the occupants of the hotel room, which seemed to Leslie like a
+prison, could have read Sergeant Parkins' mind as he went away, they
+would have thought him in deadly earnest.
+
+"Not a criminal case, gentlemen, eh?" he said to himself.  "If it is as
+I think, it is very criminal indeed, and Mr Pradelle will find it so
+before he is much older.  I haven't forgotten the night on Hakemouth
+Pier, and that poor boy's death, and I shan't feel very happy till I've
+squared accounts with him, for if he was not the starter of all that
+trouble I am no judge of men."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XVII.
+
+PRADELLE IS PRICKED.
+
+Seeing more and more that if an alteration was to be made in their
+present position, the change must come from her urging, Louise attacked
+her brother soon after breakfast the next morning.  She was fully
+convinced that Pradelle was determined to keep them in London for
+reasons of his own--reasons the bare thought of which brought an
+indignant flush into her cheek; and it was evident that he was gaining
+greater influence over his old companion, who was just now in the stage
+when it would be easy for one of strong mind to gain the mastery.  This
+being so, Louise determined that hers should be the strong will, not
+Pradelle's.  To this end she took three or four of the most likely of
+her jewels, making a point of carefully wrapping them up and dwelling
+upon the task till she caught her brother's attention.
+
+"What are you doing there?" he said.
+
+"Getting ready some things upon which to raise money."
+
+He uttered an impatient ejaculation.
+
+"Leave them till Pradelle comes."
+
+"No, Harry; either you or I must part with these.  Who is it to be?"
+
+"Let Pradelle take them."
+
+"No," she said firmly.  "It is time that we acted for ourselves.  Will
+you go, or shall I?"
+
+"But you heard what he said yesterday?"
+
+"Yes, and I do not believe it.  Come, Harry, for your own sake, for
+mine."
+
+"Yes, yes; but wait."
+
+"You forced me into this compromising position to help you escape from
+England."
+
+"I could not help it."
+
+"I am not blaming you; I only say act, or let me."
+
+He started from his chair, and stood there swayed by the various
+passions which pervaded his spirit.
+
+"Harry."
+
+"I cannot do it."
+
+"Then let me go."
+
+"No, no, no!" he cried.  "I am not so lost to all manly feeling as that.
+Here, give them to me, and let us get away."
+
+"Yes," she said eagerly, "at once.  You will go, Harry, and let us cross
+to-night."
+
+He nodded his head, and without another word swept the jewels into his
+pocket, and made towards the door.  As he laid his hand upon the lock he
+turned sharply and came back.
+
+"I'm like a curse to you, Louie," he said, kissing her; "but I'm going
+to try, and you shall guide me now."
+
+She clung to him for a few moments, and then loosened her grasp.
+
+"I shall be ready when you come back," she said.  "We can pay these
+people, and it will be like breathing afresh to get away."
+
+"Yes," he said.  "But Pradelle?"
+
+"Is our enemy, Harry.  Your evil genius."
+
+"No, no; he has been very kind."
+
+"For his own ends.  There, go."
+
+He went off without a word; and after making the few trifling
+preparations necessary, Louise put on her hat and cloak, and waited
+impatiently for her brother's return.  An hour passed, which seemed like
+two, and then the blood mounted to her pale cheek, and she crossed
+towards the door ready to admit her brother, for there was a step upon
+the stair.  She glanced round to see if she had forgotten anything, but
+there was nothing to do, save to pay the landlady, and then they would
+be free.  She threw open the door as the step paused on the landing, and
+then she ran back with her lips apart, and a look of repugnance and
+dread in her eyes.
+
+"Mr Pradelle!"
+
+"Yes, Miss Louie, me it is, and you don't look best pleased to see me."
+
+As she fell back he entered and closed the door.
+
+"My brother is out, Mr Pradelle."
+
+He nodded, and stood smiling at her.
+
+"You can leave any message you wish for him."
+
+"And go?  Exactly.  Hah!  I should like to make you think differently of
+me, Miss Louie.  You know I always loved--"
+
+"Mr Pradelle, I am alone here, and this visit is an intrusion."
+
+"Intrusion?  Ah, how hard you do keep on me; but I'm patient as a man
+can be.  What a welcome to one who has come to serve you!  I am only
+your brother's messenger, Miss Louie.  He has been and done that
+business."
+
+"You know?"
+
+"Of course I know.  Harry is not so hard upon me as you are.  I have
+seen him, and he sent me on here with a cab.  He wants you to join him."
+
+"To join him?"
+
+"Yes, at the station.  He says it is not safe to come back here, and you
+are to join him at the waiting-room."
+
+"He sent that message by you?"
+
+"Yes.  It's all nonsense, of course, for I think he has not so much
+cause to be alarmed.  There is a risk, but he magnifies it.  You are
+ready, so let's go on at once."
+
+"Why did not my brother return?  There is the landlady to pay."
+
+"He has commissioned me to do that.  I am going to see you both off, and
+if you'll only say a kind word to me, Miss Louie, I don't know but what
+I'll come with you."
+
+"Did my brother send that message to me, Mr Pradelle?" said Louise,
+looking at him fixedly.
+
+"Yes, and the cab's waiting at the door."
+
+"It is not true," said Louise firmly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I say, sir, it is not true.  After what has passed between us this
+morning, my brother would not send such a message by you."
+
+"Well, if ever man had cause to be hurt I have," cried Pradelle.  "Why,
+you'll tell me next that he didn't go out to pawn some of your jewels."
+
+Louise hesitated.
+
+"There, you see, I am right.  He has taken quite a scare, and daren't
+come back.  Perhaps you won't believe that.  There, come along; we're
+wasting time."
+
+"It is not true."
+
+"How can you be so foolish!  I tell you I was to bring you along, and
+you must come now.  Hush! don't talk, but come."
+
+He caught her hand and drew it through his arm so suddenly that,
+hesitating between faith and doubt, she made no resistance; and, ready
+to blame herself now for her want of trust, she was accompanying him
+towards the door when it was opened quickly, and their way was blocked
+by Leslie and Uncle Luke.
+
+Pradelle uttered an angry ejaculation, and Louise shrank back
+speechless, her eyes dilated, her lips apart, and a bewildering sense of
+confusion robbing her of the power of speech, as she realised to the
+full her position in the sight of those who had sought her out.
+
+"Then he was right, Leslie," said Uncle Luke slowly, as he looked from
+his niece to Pradelle, and back.
+
+"Uncle!" she cried in agony, "what are you thinking?"
+
+"That you are my niece--a woman," said the old man coldly; "and that
+this is Mr Pradelle."
+
+"Uncle, dear uncle, let me explain," cried Louise wildly, as she
+shivered at the look of contempt cast upon her by Leslie.
+
+"The situation needs no explanation," said Uncle Luke coldly.
+
+"Not a bit," said Pradelle with a half laugh.  "Well, gentlemen, what do
+you want?  This lady is under my protection.  Please to let us pass."
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Luke in the same coldly sarcastic tone of voice, "you
+can pass, but, in spite of everything, the lady stays with me."
+
+"No, sir, she goes with me," said Pradelle in a blustering tone.  "Come
+on," he whispered, "for Harry's sake."
+
+"No," said Uncle Luke.  "I think we will spare her the pain of seeing
+you arrested.  Mr Pradelle, the police are on the stairs."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XVIII.
+
+THE DOG BITES.
+
+Pradelle started back as if he had been stung.
+
+"Police?" he said.  "What do you mean?"
+
+"What a man does mean, you scoundrel, when he talks about them--to give
+you into custody."
+
+"It is not a criminal offence to elope with a lady," said Pradelle, with
+a malicious look at Leslie, who stood before the door with his hands
+clenched.
+
+"Uncle!" cried Louise, whose pale face now flamed up as she glanced at
+Leslie, and saw that he avoided her eyes.
+
+"You wait," he said.  "I'll finish with this fellow first, and end by
+taking you home."
+
+"But, uncle, let me explain."
+
+"You'll hold your tongue!" cried Pradelle sharply.  "Think what you are
+going to do."
+
+"Yes, she can hold her tongue," cried Uncle Luke, "while I settle our
+little business, sir.  Let me see.  Ah!  I was always sure of that."
+
+Pradelle had thrust himself forward offensively, and in a threatening
+manner so near that the old man had only to dart out one hand to seize
+him by the throat; and quick as lightning had drawn an old gold ring
+from the scarf the young man wore.
+
+"What are you doing?" roared Pradelle, clenching his fist.
+
+"Taking possession of my own.  Look here, Leslie, my old signet-ring
+that scoundrel took from a nail over my chimney-piece."
+
+"It's a lie, it's--"
+
+"My crest, and enough by itself to justify the police being called up."
+
+"A trick, a trumped-up charge," cried Pradelle.
+
+"You must prove that at the same time you clear yourself of robbing Van
+Heldre."
+
+"I--I rob Van Heldre!  I swear I never had a shilling of his money."
+
+"You were not coming away when I knocked you down with old Crampton's
+ruler, eh?"
+
+Pradelle shrank from the upraised stick, and with an involuntary
+movement clapped his hand to his head.
+
+"See that, Leslie!" cried the old man with a sneering laugh.  "Yes, that
+was the place.  I hit as hard as I could."
+
+"A trick, a trap!  Bah!  I'm not scared by your threats.  You stand
+aside, and let us pass!" cried Pradelle in a loud, bullying way, as he
+tried to draw Louise toward the door; but she freed herself from his
+grasp.
+
+"No, no!" she cried wildly, as with ears and eyes on the strain she
+glanced at window and door, and caught her uncle's arm.
+
+"Hah! glad you have so much good sense left.  Nice scoundrel this to
+choose, my girl!"
+
+"Uncle!" she whispered, "you shall let me explain."
+
+"I don't want to hear any explanation," cried the old man angrily.  "I
+know quite enough.  Will you come home with me?"
+
+"Yes!" she cried eagerly, and Leslie drew a breath full of relief.
+"No!"
+
+The negative came like a cry of agony.
+
+"I cannot, uncle, I cannot."
+
+"I'll see about that," cried the old man.  "Now, Leslie, ask Sergeant
+Parkins to step up here."
+
+"Let him if he dares!" cried Pradelle fiercely.
+
+"Oh, he dares," said Uncle Luke, smiling.  "Call him up, for it is a
+criminal case, after all."
+
+"Stop!" cried Pradelle, as Leslie laid his hand upon the door.
+
+"Yes, stop--pray, pray stop!" cried Louise in agony; and with a wild
+look of horror, which stung Leslie with jealous rage.  "Uncle, you must
+not do this."
+
+"I'd do it if it was ten times as hard!" cried the old man.
+
+"What shall I say--what shall I do?" moaned Louise.  "Uncle, uncle, pray
+don't do this.  You must not send for the police.  Give me time to
+explain--to set you right."
+
+"Shame upon you!" cried the old man fiercely.  "Defending such a
+scoundrel as that!"
+
+"No, no, uncle, I do not defend this man.  Listen to me; you do not know
+what you are doing."
+
+"Not know what I am doing?  Ah!"
+
+He turned from her in disgust, and with a look of agony that thrilled
+him, she caught Leslie's arm.
+
+"You will listen to me, Mr Leslie.  You must not, you shall not, call
+in the police."
+
+He did not speak for the moment, but stood hesitating as if yielding to
+her prayer; but the frown deepened upon his brow as he loosened her
+grasp upon his arm.
+
+"It is for your good," he said coldly, "to save you from a man like
+that."
+
+"I must speak, I must speak!" cried Louise, and then she uttered a wail
+of horror and shrank to her uncle's side.
+
+For as she clung to Leslie, Pradelle, with a bullying look, planted
+himself before the door to arrest Leslie's progress, and then shrank
+back as he saw the grim smile of satisfaction upon the young Scot's
+face.
+
+It was the work of moments, and the action seemed like to that of one of
+his own country deerhounds, as Leslie clashed at him; there was the dull
+sound of a heavy blow, and Pradelle went down with a crash in one corner
+of the room.
+
+"Mr Leslie!  Mr Leslie! for pity's sake stay!" cried Louise as she
+made for the door; but Uncle Luke caught her hand, and retained it as
+the door swung to.
+
+"Uncle, uncle!" she moaned, "what have you done?"
+
+"Done?" he cried.  "You mad, infatuated girl!  My duty to my brother and
+to you."
+
+"All right," said Pradelle, rising slowly.  "Let's have in the police
+then.  I can clear myself, I dare say."
+
+"Mr Pradelle, if you have a spark of manliness in you, pray say no
+more," cried Louise, as, snatching herself free, she ran to him now.
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to be made a scapegoat!" he cried savagely; but as
+his eyes met hers full of piteous appeal, his whole manner changed, and
+he caught her hands in his.
+
+"Yes, I will," he whispered.  "I'll bear it all.  It can't be for long,
+and I may get off.  Promise me--"
+
+He said the rest of the words with his lips close to her ear.
+
+"Your wife?" she faltered as she shrank away and crossed to her uncle.
+"No, no, no!"
+
+There was a sharp rap on the panel, the door yielded, and Sergeant
+Parkins stepped in.
+
+"Mr Pradelle, eh?" he said with a grim smile.  "Glad to make your
+acquaintance, sir, at last.  You'll come quietly?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll come," said Pradelle.  "I've got an answer to the
+charge."
+
+"Of course you have, sir.  Glad to hear it.  Sorry to put a stop to your
+pleasant little game.  Shall I?"
+
+"There's no need," said Pradelle in answer to a meaning gesticulation
+toward his wrists.  "I know how to behave like a gentleman."
+
+"That's right," said the sergeant, who, with a display of delicacy
+hardly to have been expected in his triumph at having, as he felt, had
+his prognostication fulfilled, carefully abstained from even glancing at
+the trembling girl, who stood there with agony and despair painted on
+her face.
+
+"It ain't too late yet, Miss Louie," said Pradelle, crossing towards
+her.
+
+"Keep that scoundrel back, Parkins," cried Uncle Luke.
+
+"Right, sir.  Now, Mr Pradelle."
+
+"Stop a moment, can't you?" shouted the prisoner.  "Miss Louie--to save
+him you'll promise, and I'll be dumb.  I swear I will."
+
+Louise drew herself up as a piteous sigh escaped her breast.
+
+"No," she said firmly, "I cannot promise that.  Uncle dear, I have tried
+to save him to the last.  I can do no more."
+
+"No," said the old man, "you can do no more."
+
+"Mr Pradelle," she cried, "you will not be so base?"
+
+"Will you promise?" he cried.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then--here, just a minute.  You, Mr Luke Vine, will you give me a
+word?"
+
+"No," roared Uncle Luke.  "Take him away."
+
+"Then the sergeant here will," cried Pradelle savagely.  "Look here, sit
+down and wait for a few minutes, and you can take Harry Vine as well."
+
+"What do you mean?" cried the sergeant roughly.
+
+"Only that he has gone out to raise the money for a bolt to France, and
+he'll be back directly.  Two birds with one stone."
+
+"Only a trick, sir," said the sergeant grimly.  "Now, Mr Pradelle,
+hansom or four-wheeler?  I give you your choice."
+
+"Four-wheeler," said Pradelle, with a sneering laugh.
+
+"My poor brother!" moaned Louise, as she made a clutch at the air, and
+then sank fainting in her uncle's arms.
+
+"You scoundrel! to speak like that," cried Uncle Luke fiercely.
+
+"Here, what do you mean?" said the sergeant.
+
+"What I said.  He wasn't drowned.  Harry was too clever for that."
+
+_Click--click_!
+
+A pair of handcuffs were fastened to his wrists with marvellous
+celerity, and he was swung into a chair.
+
+"I don't know whether this is a bit of gammon, Mr Pradelle," said the
+sergeant sharply, "but I never lose a chance."
+
+He paid not the slightest heed to the other occupants of the room, but
+ran to the window, threw it open, and called to some one below, but only
+his last words were heard by those inside.
+
+"Quick! first one you see, and I'll give you a shilling."
+
+The sergeant closed the window, and crossed to Pradelle.
+
+"If it's a trick it will do you no good.  You see, to begin with, it has
+brought you those."
+
+"I don't care," said Pradelle, glowering at Uncle Luke.  "It will take
+some of the pride out of him, and I shan't go alone."
+
+"It is a trick, sergeant.  Take the scoundrel away."
+
+"Must make sure, sir.  Sorry for the lady, but she may have been
+deceived that horrible night, and there's more in this than I can
+understand.  Your friend be long, sir?"
+
+"Mr Leslie?  I expected him back with you."
+
+"Mr Leslie went on out into the street, sir.  Here, I have it.  He has
+been in hiding down your way, and came up with the lady there."
+
+"That's it, sergeant, you're a 'cute one," said Pradelle with a laugh.
+
+"Who has been in hiding?"
+
+"Your nephew, sir.  I see it all now.  What a fool I've been."
+
+"My nephew!--Not dead?"
+
+"Harry--brother!" moaned Louise.  "I could do no more.  Ah!"
+
+Uncle Luke fell a-trembling as he caught the half-insensible girl's
+hand, gazing wildly at the sergeant the while.
+
+"Look here, Pradelle, no more nonsense.  Will he come back?"
+
+"If you keep quiet of course.  Not if he sees you."
+
+"All!" ejaculated the sergeant, crossing to the door as he heard a step;
+and hurrying out he returned directly with a constable in uniform.
+
+"Stop!" he said shortly, and he nodded to the prisoner.  "Very sorry,
+Mr Vine, sir," he then said; "but you must stay here for a bit.  I am
+going down to wait outside."
+
+"But, Parkins!" cried Uncle Luke, agitatedly, "I cannot.  If this is
+true--that poor boy--no, no, he must not be taken now."
+
+"Too late, sir, to talk like that," cried the sergeant.  "You stop
+there."
+
+"Yes," said Pradelle, as the door closed on the sergeant's retiring
+figure; "pleasant for you.  I always hated you for a sneering old crab.
+It's your time to feel now."
+
+"Silence, you scoundrel!" cried Uncle Luke, fiercely.  "She's coming
+to."
+
+Uncle Luke was wrong, for Louise only moaned slightly, and then relapsed
+into insensibility, from which a doctor who was fetched did not seem to
+recall her, and hour after hour of patient watching followed, but Harry
+did not return.
+
+"The bird has been scared, sir," said Parkins, entering the room at
+last.  "I can't ask you to stay longer.  There's a cab at the door to
+take the lady to your hotel."
+
+"But are you sure--that--my poor boy lives?"
+
+"Certain, sir, now.  I've had his description from the people down
+below.  I shall have him before to-night."
+
+"L'homme propose, mais--"
+
+Five minutes later Louise, quite insensible, was being borne to the
+hotel; Mr Pradelle, to an establishment offering similar advantages as
+to bed and board, but with the freedom of ingress and egress left out.
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XIX.
+
+DIOGENES DISCOVERS.
+
+"Blame you, my dear?  No, no, of course not.  Then you knew nothing
+about it till that night when he came to the window?"
+
+"Oh no, uncle dear."
+
+Louise started up excitedly from the couch at the hotel upon which she
+was lying, while the old man trotted up and down the room.
+
+"Now, now, now," he cried piteously, but with exceeding tenderness, as
+he laid his hand upon her brow, and pressed her back till her head
+rested on the pillow.  "Your head's getting hot again, and the doctor
+said you were not to be excited in any way.  There, let's talk about
+fishing, or sea-anemones, or something else."
+
+"No, no, uncle dear, I must talk about this, or I shall be worse."
+
+"Then for goodness' sake let's talk about it," he said eagerly, as he
+took a chair by her side and held her hand.
+
+"You don't blame me then--very much."
+
+"Well, say not very much; but it's not very pleasant to have a nephew
+who makes one believe he's dead, and a niece who pretends that she has
+bolted with a scampish Frenchman."
+
+"Uncle, uncle," she cried piteously.  "You see it has been a terrible
+upset for me, while as to your poor father--"
+
+"But, uncle, dear, what could I do?"
+
+"Well, when you were writing, you might have said a little more."
+
+"I wrote what poor Harry forced me to write.  What else could I say?"
+
+"You see, it has upset us all so terribly.  George--I mean your father--
+will never forgive you."
+
+"But you do not put yourself in my place, uncle.  Think of how Harry was
+situated; think of his horror of being taken.  Indeed, he was half mad."
+
+"No: quite, Louie; and you seem to have caught the complaint."
+
+"I hardly knew what I did.  It was like some terrible dream.  Harry
+frightened me then."
+
+"Enough to frighten any one, appearing like a ghost at the window when
+we believed he was dead."
+
+"I did not mean that, uncle.  I mean that he was in a terrible state of
+fever, and hardly seemed accountable for his actions.  I think I should
+have felt obliged to go with him, even if he had not been so
+determined."
+
+"Ah! well, you've talked about it quite enough."
+
+"No, no; I must talk about it--about Harry.  Oh! uncle! uncle! after all
+this suffering for him to be taken after all!  The horror! the shame!
+the disgrace!  You must--you shall save him!"
+
+"I'm going to try all I know, my darling; but when once you have started
+the police it's hard work to keep them back."
+
+"How could you do it?"
+
+"How could I do it?" cried the old man testily.  "I didn't do it to find
+him, of course, but to try and run you to earth.  How could I know that
+Harry was alive?"
+
+"But you will not let him be imprisoned.  Has he not suffered enough?"
+
+"Not more than he deserves to suffer, my child; but we must stop all
+that judge and jury business somehow.  Get Van Heldre not to prosecute."
+
+"I will go down on my knees to him, and stay at his feet till he
+promises to spare him--poor foolish boy!  But, uncle, what are you going
+to do?  You will not send word down?"
+
+"Not send word?  Why, I sent to Madelaine a couple of hours ago, while
+you lay there insensible."
+
+"You sent?"
+
+"Yes, a long telegram."
+
+"Uncle, what have you done?"
+
+"What I ought to do, my child, and bade her tell her father and mother,
+and then go and break it gently to my brother."
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+"There, there, my dear, you said I ought to put myself in your place;
+suppose you put yourself in mine."
+
+"Yes, yes, uncle, dear; I see now; I see."
+
+"Then try and be calm.  You know how these difficulties sometimes settle
+themselves."
+
+"Not such difficulties as these, uncle.  Harry! my brother! my poor
+brother!"
+
+"Louie, my dear child!" said the old man, with a comical look of
+perplexity in his face, "have some pity on me."
+
+"My dearest uncle," she sobbed, as she drew his face down to hers.
+
+"Yes," he said, kissing her; "that's all very well, and affectionate,
+and nice; but do look here.  You know how I live, and why I live as I
+do."
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"To save myself from worry and anxiety.  I am saving myself from
+trouble, am I not?  Here, let go of my hand, and I'll send off another
+message to hasten your father up, so as to set me free."
+
+"No, uncle, dear, you will not leave me," she said, with a pleading look
+in her eyes.
+
+"There you go!" he cried.  "I wish you wouldn't have so much faith in
+me, Louie.  You ought to know better; but you always would believe in
+me."
+
+"Yes, uncle, always," said Louise, as she placed his hand upon her
+pillow, and her cheek in his palm.
+
+"Well, all I can say is that it's a great nuisance for me.  But I'm glad
+I've found you, my dear, all the same."
+
+"After believing all manner of evil of me, uncle."
+
+"No, no, not quite so bad as that.  There: never mind what I thought.  I
+found you out, and just in the nick of time.  I say, where the dickens
+can Leslie be?"
+
+"Mr Leslie!"
+
+Louise raised her face, with an excited look in her eyes.
+
+"Well, why are you looking like that?"
+
+"Tell me, uncle--was he very much hurt, that night?"
+
+"Nearly killed," said the old man grimly, and with a furtive look at his
+niece.
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+"Well, what of it?  He's nothing to you.  Good enough sort of fellow,
+but there are thousands of better men in the world."
+
+Louise's brow grew puckered, and a red spot burned in each of her
+cheeks.
+
+"Been very good and helped me to find you; paid the detective to hunt
+you out."
+
+"Uncle! surely you will not let Mr Leslie pay."
+
+"Not let him!  I did let him.  He has plenty of money, and I have none--
+handy."
+
+"But, uncle!"
+
+"Oh! it pleased him to pay.  I don't know why, though, unless, like all
+young men, he wanted to make ducks and drakes of his cash."
+
+Louise's brow seemed to grow more contracted.
+
+"Bit of a change for him to run up to town.  I suppose that's what made
+him come," continued the old man; "and now I've found you, I suppose he
+feels free to go about where he likes.  I never liked him."
+
+If Uncle Luke expected his niece to make some reply he was mistaken, for
+Louise lay back with her eyes half-closed, apparently thinking deeply,
+till there was a tap at the door.
+
+"Hah! that's Leslie," cried the old man, rising.
+
+"You will come back and tell me if there is any news of Harry, uncle,"
+whispered Louise.  Then, with an agonised look up at him as she clung to
+his hands, "He will not help them?"
+
+"What, to capture that poor boy?  No, no.  Leslie must feel bitter
+against the man who struck him down, but not so bad as that."
+
+The knock was repeated before he could free, his hands and cross the
+room.
+
+"Yes, what is it?"
+
+"That gentleman who has been to see you before, sir," said the waiter,
+in a low voice.
+
+"Not Mr Leslie?  He has not returned?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"I'll come directly.  Where is he?"
+
+"In the coffee-room, sir."
+
+Uncle Luke closed the door and recrossed the room, to where Louise had
+half risen and was gazing at him wildly.
+
+"News of Harry, uncle?"
+
+"Don't know, my dear."
+
+"You are keeping it from me.  That man has taken him, and all this agony
+of suffering has been in vain."
+
+"I'd give something if Madelaine were here," said Uncle Luke.  "No, no;
+I am not keeping back anything.  I don't know anything; I only came back
+to beg of you to be calm.  There, I promise you that you shall know
+all."
+
+"Even the worst?"
+
+"Even the worst."
+
+Louise sank back, and the old man descended to the coffee-room, to find
+Parkins impatiently walking up and down.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"No, sir; no luck yet," said that officer.
+
+"What do you mean with your no luck?" cried Uncle Luke angrily.  "You
+don't suppose I want him found?"
+
+"Perhaps not, sir, but I do.  I never like to undertake a job without
+carrying it through, and I feel over this that I have been regularly
+tricked."
+
+"What's that to me, sir?"
+
+"Nothing, sir; but to a man in my position, with his character as a keen
+officer at stake, a great deal.  Mr Leslie, sir.  Has he been back?"
+
+"There, once for all, it's of no use for you to come and question me,
+Parkins.  I engaged you to track out my niece; you have succeeded, and
+you may draw what I promised you, and five-and-twenty guineas besides
+for the sharp way in which you carried it out.  You have done your task,
+and I discharge you.  I belong to the enemy now."
+
+"Yes, sir; but I have the other job to finish, in which you did not
+instruct me."
+
+"Look here, Parkins," said Uncle Luke, taking him by the lapel of his
+coat, "never mind about the other business."
+
+"But I do, sir.  Every man has some pride, and mine is to succeed in
+every job I take in hand."
+
+"Ah! well, look here; you shall succeed.  You did your best over it, and
+we'll consider it was the last act of the drama when my foolish nephew
+jumped into the sea."
+
+"Oh, no, sir.  I--"
+
+"Wait a minute.  What a hurry you men are in!  Now look here, Parkins.
+I'm only a poor quiet country person, and I should be sorry for you to
+think I tried to bribe you; but you've done your duty.  Now go no
+farther in this matter, and I'll sell out stock to a hundred pounds, and
+you shall transfer it to your name in the bank."
+
+Parkins shook his head and frowned.
+
+"For a nest egg, man."
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Then look here, my man; this is a painful family scandal, and I don't
+want it to go any farther, for the sake of those who are suffering.
+I'll make it two hundred."
+
+"No, sir; no."
+
+"Then two hundred and fifty; all clean money, Parkins."
+
+"Dirty money, sir, you mean," said the sergeant quietly.  "Look here,
+Mr Luke Vine, you are, as you say, a quiet country gentleman, so I
+won't be angry with you.  You'll give me five hundred pounds to stop
+this business and let your nephew get right away?"
+
+Uncle Luke drew a long breath.
+
+"Five hundred!" he muttered.  "Well, it will come out of what I meant to
+leave him, and I suppose he'll be very glad to give it to escape."
+
+"Do you understand me, sir?  You'll give me five hundred pounds to stop
+this search?"
+
+Uncle Luke drew another long breath.
+
+"You're a dreadful scoundrel, Parkins, and too much for me; but yes: you
+shall have the money."
+
+"No, sir, I'm not a dreadful scoundrel, or I should make you pay me a
+thousand pounds."
+
+"I wouldn't pay it--not a penny more than five hundred."
+
+"Yes, you would, sir; you'd pay me a thousand for the sake of that sweet
+young lady up-stairs.  You'd pay me every shilling you've got if I
+worked you, and in spite of your shabby looks I believe you're pretty
+warm."
+
+"Never you mind my looks, sir, or my warmth," cried Uncle Luke
+indignantly.  "That matter is settled, then?  Five hundred pounds?"
+
+"Thousand would be a nice bit of money for a man like me to have put
+away against the day I get a crack on the head or am shot by some
+scoundrel.  Nice thing for the wife and my girl.  Just about the same
+age as your niece, sir."
+
+"That will do; that will do," said Uncle Luke stiffly.  "The business is
+settled, then."
+
+"No, sir; not yet.  I won't be gruff with you, sir, because your
+motive's honest, and I'm sorry to have to be hard at a time like this."
+
+"You dog!" snarled Uncle Luke; "you have me down.  Go on, worry me.
+There, out with it.  I haven't long to live.  Tell me what I am to give
+you, and you shall have it."
+
+"Your--hand, sir," cried the sergeant; and as it was unwillingly
+extended he gripped it with tremendous force.  "Your hand, sir, for that
+of a fine, true-hearted English gentleman.  No, sir: I'm not to be
+bought at any price.  If I could do it I would, for the sake of that
+poor broken-hearted girl; but it isn't to be done.  I will not insult
+you, though, by coming here to get information.  Good-day, sir; and you
+can write to me.  Good-bye."
+
+He gave Uncle Luke's hand a final wring, and then, with a short nod,
+left the room.
+
+"Diogenes the second," said Uncle Luke, with a dry, harsh laugh; "and
+I've beaten Diogenes the first, for he took a lantern to find his honest
+man, and didn't find him.  I have found one without a light."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XX.
+
+UNCLE LUKE TURNS PROPHET.
+
+"Why doesn't Leslie come?" said Uncle Luke impatiently, as he rose from
+a nearly untasted breakfast the next morning to go to the window of his
+private room in the hotel and try to look up and down the street.  "It's
+too bad of him.  Here, what in the world have I done to be condemned to
+such a life as this?"
+
+"Life?" he exclaimed after a contemptuous stare at the grimy houses
+across the street.  "Life?  I don't call this life!  What, an existence!
+Prison would be preferable."
+
+He winced as the word prison occurred to him, and began to think of
+Harry.
+
+"I can't understand it.  Well, he's clever enough at hiding, but it
+seems very cowardly to leave his sister in the lurch.  Thought she was
+with me, I hope.  Confound it, why don't Leslie come?"
+
+"Bah! want of pluck!" he cried, after another glance from the window.
+"Tide must be about right this week, and the bass playing in that eddy
+off the point.  Could have fished there again now.  Never seemed to
+fancy it when I thought poor Harry was drowned off it.  Confound poor
+Harry!  He has always been a nuisance.  Now, I wonder whether it would
+be possible to get communication with him unknown to these police?"
+
+He took a walk up and down the room for a few minutes.
+
+"Now that's where Leslie would be so useful; and he keeps away.  Because
+of Louie, I suppose.  Well, what is it?  Why have you brought the
+breakfast back?"
+
+"The young lady said she was coming down, sir," said the chambermaid,
+who had entered with a tray.
+
+"Stuff and nonsense!" cried the old man angrily.  "Go up and tell her
+she is not to get up till the doctor has seen her, and not then unless
+he gives her leave."
+
+The maid gave her shoulders a slight shrug, and turned to go, when the
+door opened, and, looking very pale and hollow-eyed, Louise entered.
+
+Uncle Luke gave his foot an impatient stamp.
+
+"That's right," he cried; "do all you can to make yourself ill, and keep
+me a prisoner in this black hole.  No, no, my darling, I didn't mean
+that.  So you didn't like having your breakfast alone?  That'll do; set
+it down."
+
+The maid left the room, and Louise stood, with her head resting on the
+old man's breast.
+
+"Now tell me, uncle dear," she said in a low voice, and without looking
+up, "has poor Harry been taken?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Hah!"
+
+A long sigh of relief.
+
+"And Mr Leslie?  What does he say?"
+
+"I don't know.  He has not been here since he left with me yesterday."
+
+"And he calls himself our friend!" cried Louise, looking up with
+flushing face.  "Uncle, why does he not try and save Harry instead of
+joining the cowardly pack who are hunting him down?"
+
+"Come, I like that!" cried Uncle Luke.  "I'd rather see you in a passion
+than down as you were last night."
+
+"I--I cannot help it, uncle; I can think of only one thing--Harry."
+
+"And Mr Leslie, and accuse him of hunting Harry down."
+
+"Well, did he not do so?  Did he not come with that dreadful man?"
+
+"To try and save you from the French scoundrel with whom he thought you
+had eloped."
+
+"Oh, hush, uncle, dear.  Now tell me, what do you propose doing?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+"That's the best policy.  There, my darling, I have done all I could
+this morning to help the poor boy, but--I must be plain--the police are
+in hot pursuit, and if I move a step I am certain to be watched.  Look
+there!"
+
+He pointed down into the street.
+
+"That man on the other side is watching this house, I'm sure, and if I
+go away I shall be followed."
+
+"But while we are doing nothing, who knows what may happen, dear?"
+
+"Don't let's imagine things.  Harry is clever enough perhaps to get
+away, and now he knows that we have found out the truth, you will see
+that he is not long before he writes.  I want Leslie now.  Depend upon
+it, the poor fellow felt that he would be _de trop_, and has gone
+straight back home."
+
+Louise uttered a sigh full of relief.
+
+"You scared him away, my dear, and perhaps it's for the best.  He's a
+very stupid fellow, and as obstinate--well, as a Scot."
+
+"But knowing Harry as he does, uncle, and being so much younger than you
+are, would it not be better if he were working with you?  We must try
+and save poor Harry from that dreadful fate."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Uncle Luke slowly.  "There, have some tea."
+
+Then rising from his seat, he rang, and going to the writing-table sat
+down; and while Louise made a miserable pretence of sipping her tea, the
+old man wrote down something and gave it to the waiter who entered.
+
+"Directly," he said; and the man left the room.
+
+"Yes, on second thoughts you are quite right, my dear."
+
+Louise looked up at him inquiringly.
+
+"So I have telegraphed down to Hakemouth for Leslie to come up
+directly."
+
+Louise's eyes dilated, and she caught his arm.
+
+"No, no," she whispered, "don't do that.  No; you and I will do what is
+to be done.  Don't send to him, uncle, pray."
+
+"Too late, my dear; the deed is done."
+
+Just then the waiter re-entered.
+
+"Telegram, sir."
+
+Louise turned if possible more pale.
+
+"Tut--tut!" whispered Uncle Luke.  "It can't be an answer back.  Hah!
+from Madelaine."
+
+"_Your news seems too great to be true.  Mr George Vine started for
+town by the first train this morning.  My father regrets his
+helplessness_."
+
+"Hah!  Come.  That's very business-like of George," said the old man.
+"Louie, my dear, I'm going to turn prophet.  All this trouble is certain
+to turn in the right direction after all.  Why, my child!"
+
+She had sunk back in her chair with the cold, dank dew of suffering
+gathering upon her forehead, and a piteous look of agony in her eyes.
+
+"How can I meet him now!"
+
+The terrible hours of agony that had been hers during the past month had
+so shattered the poor girl's nerves, that even this meeting seemed more
+than she could bear, and it called forth all the old man's efforts to
+convince her that she had nothing to fear, but rather everything to
+desire.
+
+It was a weary and a painful time though before Louise was set at rest.
+
+She was seated in the darkening room, holding tightly by the old man's
+hand, as a frightened child might in dread of punishment.  As the hours
+had passed she had been starting at every sound, trembling as the hollow
+rumbling of cab-wheels came along the street, and when by chance a
+carriage stopped at the hotel her aspect was pitiable.
+
+"I cannot help it," she whispered.  "All through these terrible troubles
+I seem to have been strong, while now I am so weak and unstrung--uncle,
+I shall never be myself again."
+
+"Yes, and stronger than ever.  Come, little woman, how often have you
+heard or read of people suffering from nervous reaction and--Thank God!"
+he muttered, as he saw the door softly open behind his niece's chair,
+and his brother stand in the doorway.
+
+"I did not catch what you said, dear," said Louise feebly, as she lay
+back with her eyes closed.
+
+Uncle Luke gave his brother a meaning look, and laid his niece's hand
+back upon her knees.
+
+"No; it's very hard to make one's self heard in this noisy place.  I was
+only saying, my dear, that your nerves have been terribly upset, and
+that you are suffering from the shock.  You feel now afraid to meet your
+father lest he should reproach you, and you can only think of him as
+being bitter and angry against you for going away, as you did; but when
+he thoroughly grasps the situation, and how you acted as you did to save
+your brother from arrest, and all as it were in the wild excitement of
+that time, and under pressure--"
+
+"Don't leave me, uncle."
+
+"No, no, my dear.  Only going to walk up and down," said the old man as
+he left his chair.  "When he grasps all this, and your dread of Harry's
+arrest, and that it was all nonsense--there, lie back still, it is more
+restful so.  That's better," he said, kissing her, and drawing away.
+"When, I say, he fully knows that it was all nonsense due to confounded
+Aunt Margaret and her noble Frenchmen, and that instead of an elopement
+with some scoundrel, you were only performing a sisterly duty, he'll
+take you in his arms--"
+
+Uncle Luke was on the far side of the room now, and in obedience to his
+signs, and trembling violently, George Vine had gone slowly towards the
+vacated seat.
+
+"You think he will, uncle, and forgive me?" she faltered, as she lay
+back still with her eyes closed.
+
+"Think, my darling?  I'm sure of it.  Yes, he'll take you in his arms."
+
+A quiet sigh.
+
+"And say--"
+
+George Vine sank trembling into the empty chair.
+
+"Forgive me, my child, for ever doubting you."
+
+"Oh, no, uncle."
+
+"And I say, yes; and thank God for giving me my darling back once more."
+
+"Forgive me!  Thank God for giving me my darling back once more!
+Louise!"
+
+"Father!"
+
+A wild, sobbing cry, as they two were locked in each other's arms.
+
+At that moment the door was closed softly, and Uncle Luke stood blowing
+his nose outside upon the mat.
+
+"Nearly seventy, and sobbing like a child," he muttered softly.  "Dear
+me, what an old fool I am!"
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XXI.
+
+LESLIE MAKES AN ANNOUNCEMENT.
+
+It was a week before the London doctor said that Louise Vine might
+undertake the journey down home, but when it was talked of she looked up
+at her father in a troubled way.
+
+"It would be better, my darling," he whispered.  "You shrink from going
+back to the old place.  Why should you, where there will be nothing but
+love and commiseration?"
+
+"It is not that," she said sadly.  "Harry!"
+
+"Yes!  But we can do no more by staying here."
+
+"Not a bit," said Uncle Luke.  "Let's get down to the old sea-shore
+again, Louie.  If we stop here much longer I shall die.  Harry's safe
+enough somewhere.  Let's go home."
+
+Louise made no more opposition, and it was decided that they should
+start at once, but the journey had to be deferred on account of business
+connected with Pradelle's examination.
+
+This was not talked of at the hotel, and Louise remained in ignorance of
+a great deal of what took place before they were free to depart.
+
+That journey down was full of painful memories for Louise, and it was
+all she could do to restrain her tears as the train stopped at the
+station, which was associated in her mind with her brother, and again
+and again she seemed to see opposite to her, shrinking back in the
+corner by the window nearest the platform, the wild, haggard eyes and
+the frightened furtive look at every passenger that entered the
+carriage.
+
+The journey seemed interminable, and even when Plymouth had been reached
+there was still the long slow ride over the great wooden bridges with
+the gurgling streams far down in the little rock ravines.
+
+"Hah!" said Uncle Luke cheerily, "one begins to breathe now.  Look."
+
+He pointed to the shadow of the railway train plainly seen against the
+woods, for the full round moon was rising slowly.
+
+"This is better than a gas-lamp shadow, eh, and you don't get such a
+moon as that in town.  I've lost count, George.  How are the tides this
+week?"
+
+Vine shook his head.
+
+"No, you never did know anything about the tides, George.  Always did
+get cut off.  Be drowned some day, shut in under a cliff; and you can't
+climb."
+
+They rode on in silence for some time, watching the moonlight effect on
+the patches of wood in the dark hollows, the rocky hill-slopes, and upon
+one or another of the gaunt deserted engine-houses looking like the
+towers of ruined churches high up on the hills, here black, and there
+glittering in the moonlight, as they stood out against the sky.
+
+These traces of the peculiar industry of the district had a peculiar
+fascination for Louise, who found herself constantly comparing these
+buildings with one beyond their house overlooking the beautiful bay.
+There it seemed to stand out bold and picturesque, with the long shaft
+running snake-like up the steep hillside, to end in the perpendicular
+monument-like chimney that formed the landmark by which the sailors set
+vessels' heads for the harbour.
+
+But that place did not seem deserted as these.  At any time when she
+looked she could picture the slowly-moving beam of the huge engine, and
+the feathery plume of grey smoke which floated away on the western
+breeze.  There was a bright look about the place, and always associated
+with it she seemed to see Duncan Leslie, now looking appealingly in her
+eyes, now bitter and stern as he looked on her that night when Harry
+beat him down and they fled, leaving him insensible upon the floor.
+
+What might have been!
+
+That was the theme upon which her busy brain toiled in spite of her
+efforts to divert the current of thought into another channel.  And when
+in despair she conversed with father or uncle for a few minutes, and
+silence once more reigned, there still was Duncan Leslie's home, and its
+owner gazing at her reproachfully.
+
+"Impossible!" she always said to herself; and as often as she said this
+she felt that there would be a terrible battle with self, for
+imperceptibly there had grown to be a subtle advocate for Duncan Leslie
+in her heart.
+
+"But it is impossible," she always said, and emphasised it.  "We are
+disgraced.  With such a shadow over our house that could never be; and
+he doubted, he spoke so cruelly, his eyes flashed such jealous hatred.
+If he had loved me, he would have trusted, no matter what befell."
+
+But as she said all this to herself, the advocate was busy, and she felt
+the weakness of her case, but grew more determinedly obstinate all the
+same.
+
+And the train glided on over the tall scaffold-like bridges, the
+tree-tops glistened in the silvery moonlight, and there was a restful
+feeling of calm in her spirit that she had not known for days.
+
+"No place like home," said Uncle Luke, breaking a long silence as they
+glided away from the last station.
+
+"No place like home," echoed his brother, as he sought for and took his
+child's hand.  "You will stop with us to-night, Luke?"
+
+"Hear him, Louie?" said the old man.  "Now is it likely?"
+
+"But your place will be cheerless and bare to-night."
+
+"Cheerless!  Bare!  You don't know what you are talking about.  If you
+only knew the longing I have to be once more in my own bed, listening to
+wind and sea.  No, thank you."
+
+"But, uncle, for to-night do stay."
+
+"Now that's unkind, Louie, after all the time you've made me be away.
+Well, I will, as a reward to you for rousing yourself up a bit.  One
+condition though; will you come down to-morrow and talk to me while I
+fish?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Then I don't stop to-night."
+
+"I will come to-morrow, uncle."
+
+"Then I'll stop."
+
+The train glided on as they watched in silence now for the lights of the
+little town.  First, the ruddy glow of the great lamp on the east pier
+of the harbour appeared; then, glittering faintly like stars, there were
+the various lights of the town rising from the water's edge right up to
+the high terrace level, with the old granite house--the erst peaceful,
+calm old home.
+
+The lights glittered brightly, but they looked dim to Louise, seen as
+they were through a veil of tears, and now as they rapidly neared a
+strange feeling of agitation filled the brain of the returned wanderer.
+
+It was home, but it could never be the same home again.  All would be
+changed.  A feeling of separation must arise between her and Madelaine.
+The two families must live apart, and a dark rift in her life grow wider
+as the time glided on, till she was farther and farther away from the
+bright days of youth, with little to look forward to but sorrow and the
+memory of the shadow hanging over their home.
+
+"Here we are," cried Uncle Luke, as the train glided slowly alongside
+the platform and then stopped.  "Got all your traps?  George, give me my
+stick.  Now, then, you first."
+
+The station lamps were burning brightly as Louise gave her father her
+hand and stepped out.  Then she felt blind and troubled with a strange
+feeling of dread, and for a few moments everything seemed to swim round
+as a strange singing filled her ears.
+
+Then there was a faint ejaculation, two warm soft arms clasped her, and
+a well-known voice said, in a loving whisper, "Louise--sister--at last!"
+For one moment the dark veil over her eyes seemed to lift, and like a
+flash she realised that Madelaine was not in black, and that resting
+upon a stick there was a pale face which lit up with smiles as its owner
+clasped her to his breast in turn.
+
+"My dearest child! welcome back.  The place is not the same without
+you."
+
+"Louie, my darling!" in another pleasant voice, as kisses were rained
+upon her cheek, and there was another suggestion of rain which left its
+marks warm.
+
+"He would come, George Vine;" and the giver of these last kisses, and
+warm tears, did battle for the possession of the returned truant.
+"Maddy, my dear," she cried reproachfully and in a loud parenthesis,
+"let me have one hand.  He ought not to have left the house, but he is
+so determined.  He would come."
+
+"Well, Dutch doll, don't I deserve a kiss?" cried old Luke grimly.
+
+"Dear Uncle Luke!"
+
+"Hah, that's better.  George, I think I shall go home with the Van
+Heldres.  I'm starving."
+
+"But you can't," cried the lady of that house in dismay; "we are all
+coming up to you.  Ah, Mr Leslie, how _do_ you do?"
+
+"Quite well," said that personage quietly; and Madelaine felt Louise's
+hand close upon hers spasmodically.
+
+"Leslie! you here?" said George Vine eagerly.
+
+"Yes; I came down from town in the same train."
+
+"Too proud to be seen with us, eh?" said Uncle Luke sarcastically, as
+there was a warm salute from the Van Heldres to one as great a stranger
+as the Vines.
+
+"I thought it would be more delicate to let you come down alone," said
+Leslie gravely.
+
+George Vine had by this time got hold of the young man's hand.
+
+"My boy--Harry?" he whispered, "have you any news?"
+
+"Yes," was whispered back.  "Let me set your mind at rest.  He is safe."
+
+"But where?  For Heaven's sake, man, speak!" panted the trembling father
+as he clung to him.
+
+"Across the sea."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XXII.
+
+HARRY'S MESSAGE.
+
+"Do you wish me to repeat it?  Have you not heard from your father or
+your uncle?"
+
+"Yes; but I want to hear it all again from you.  Harry sent me some
+message."
+
+Leslie was silent.
+
+"Why do you not speak?  You are keeping something: back."
+
+"Yes; he gave me a message for you, one I was to deliver."
+
+"Well," said Louise quickly, "why do you not deliver it?"
+
+"Because Harry is, in spite of his trouble, still young and thoughtless.
+It is a message that would make you more bitter against me than you are
+now."
+
+Louise rose from where she was seated in the dining-room, walked across
+to the bay window, looked out upon the sea, and then returned.
+
+"I am not bitter against you, Mr Leslie.  How could I be against one
+who has served us so well?  But tell me my brother's message now."
+
+He looked at her with so deep a sense of passionate longing in his eyes,
+that as she met his ardent gaze her eyes sank, and her colour began to
+heighten.
+
+"No," he said, "I cannot deliver the message now.  Some day, when time
+has worked its changes, I will tell you word for word.  Be satisfied
+when I assure you that your brother's message will not affect his
+position in the least, and will be better told later on."
+
+She looked at him half wonderingly, and it seemed to him that there was
+doubt in her eyes.
+
+"Can you not have faith in me," he said quietly, "and believe when I
+tell you that it is better that I should not speak?"
+
+"Yes," she said softly, "I will have faith in you and wait."
+
+"I thank you," he said gravely.
+
+"Now tell me more about Harry."
+
+"There is very little to tell," replied Leslie.  "As I went down-stairs
+that day, I found him just about to enter the house.  For a moment I was
+startled, but I am not a superstitious man, and I grasped at once how we
+had all been deceived, and who it was dealt me the blow and tripped me
+that night; and in the reaction which came upon me, I seized him, and
+dragged him to the first cab I could find.
+
+"I was half mad with delight," continued Leslie, speaking, in spite of
+his burning words, in a slow, calm, respectful way.  "I saw how I had
+been deceived that night, who had been your companion, and why you had
+kept silence.  For the time I hardly knew what I did or said in my
+delirious joy, but I was brought to myself, as I sat holding your
+brother's wrist tightly, by his saying slowly,
+
+"`There, I'm sick of it.  You can leave go.  I shan't try to get away.
+It's all over now.'"
+
+"He thought you had made him a prisoner?"
+
+"Yes; and I thought him a messenger of peace, who had come to point out
+my folly, weakness, and want of faith."
+
+Louise covered her face with her hands, and he saw that she was sobbing
+gently.
+
+"It was some time before I could speak," continued Leslie.  "I was still
+holding his wrist tightly, and it was not until he spoke again that I
+felt as if I could explain.
+
+"`Where are you taking me?' he said.  `Is it necessary for Mr Leslie,
+my father's friend, to play policeman in the case?'
+
+"`When will you learn to believe and trust in me, Harry, Vine?'  I said.
+
+"`Never,' he replied bitterly, and in the gladness of my heart I
+laughed, and could have taken him in my arms and embraced him as one
+would a lost brother just returned to us from the dead.
+
+"`You will repent that,' I said, and I felt then that my course was
+marked out, and I could see my way."
+
+Louise let fall her hands, and sank into a chair, her eyes dilating as
+she gazed earnestly at the quiet, enduring man, who now narrated to her
+much that was new; and ever as he spoke something in her brain seemed to
+keep on repeating in a low and constant repetition,
+
+"He loves me--he loves me--but it can never be."
+
+"`Where am I taking you?'  I said," continued Leslie.  "`To where you
+can make a fresh start in life.'"  And as Louise gazed at him she saw
+that he was looking fixedly at the spot upon the carpet where her
+brother had last stood when he was in that room.
+
+"`Not to--'
+
+"He stopped short there; and I--Yes, and I must stop short too.  It is
+very absurd, Miss Vine, for me to be asked all this."
+
+"Go on--go on!" said Louise hoarsely.
+
+Leslie glanced at her, and withdrew his eyes.
+
+"`Will you go abroad, Harry, and make a new beginning?'  I said.
+
+"Poor lad! he was utterly broken down, and he would have thrown himself
+upon his knees to me if I had not forced him to keep his seat."
+
+"My brother!" sighed Louise.
+
+"I asked him then if he would be willing to leave you all, and go right
+away; and I told him what I proposed--that I had a brother
+superintending some large tin-mines north of Malacca.  That I would give
+him such letters as would insure a welcome, and telegraph his coming
+under an assumed name."
+
+"And he accepted?"
+
+"Yes.  There, I have nothing to add to all this.  I went across with him
+to Paris, and, after securing a berth for him, we went south to
+Marseilles, where I saw him on board one of the Messageries Maritimes
+vessels bound for the East, and we parted.  That is all."
+
+"But money; necessaries, Mr Leslie?  He was penniless."
+
+"Oh, no," said Leslie, smiling; and Louise pressed her teeth upon her
+quivering lip.
+
+"There," said Leslie, "I would not have said all this, but you forced it
+from me; and now you know all, try to be at rest.  As I told Mr Vine
+last night, I suppose it would mean trouble with the authorities if it
+were known, but I think I was justified in what I did.  We understand
+Harry's nature better than any judge, and our plan for bringing him back
+to his life as your brother is better than theirs.  So," he went on with
+a pleasant smile, "we will keep our secret about him.  My brother Dick
+is one of the truest fellows that ever stepped, and Harry is sure to
+like him.  The climate is not bad.  It will be a complete change of
+existence, and some day when all this trouble is forgotten he can
+return."
+
+"My brother exiled: gone for ever."
+
+"My dear Miss Vine," said Leslie quietly, "the world has so changed now
+that we can smile at all those old-fashioned ideas.  Your brother is in
+Malacca.  Well, I cannot speak exactly, but I believe I am justified in
+saying that you could send a message to him from this place in Cornwall,
+and get an answer by to-morrow morning at the farthest, perhaps
+to-night.  Your father at one time could not have obtained one from
+Exeter in the same space.
+
+"There," he continued quietly, "you are agitated now, and I will say
+good-bye.  Is not that Madelaine Van Heldre coming up the path?  Yes,
+unmistakably.  Now let us bury the past and look forward to the future--
+a happier one for you, I hope and pray.  Good-bye."
+
+He held out his hand, and she looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"Good-bye?"
+
+"Well, for a time.  You are weak and ill.  Perhaps you will go away for
+a change--perhaps I shall.  Next time we meet, time will have softened
+all this trouble, and you will have forgiven one whose wish was to serve
+you, all his weakness, all his doubts.  Good bless you, Louise Vine!
+Good-bye!"
+
+He held out his hand again, but she did not take it.  She only stood
+gazing wildly at him in a way that he dared not interpret, speechless,
+pale, and with her lips quivering.
+
+He gave her one long, yearning look, and, turning quickly, he was at the
+door.
+
+"Mr Leslie--stop!"
+
+"You wished to say something," he cried as he turned towards her and
+caught her outstretched hand to raise it passionately to his lips.  "You
+do not, you cannot say it?  I will say it for you, then.  Good-bye!"
+
+"Stop!" she cried as she clung to his hand.  "My brother's message?"
+
+"Some day--in the future.  I dare not give it now.  When you have
+forgiven my jealous doubts."
+
+"Forgiven you?" she whispered as she sank upon her knees and held the
+hand she clasped to her cheek--"forgive me."
+
+"Louise! my darling!" he cried hoarsely as he caught her up to his
+breast, upon which she lay as one lies who feels at peace.
+
+Seconds? minutes?  Neither knew; but after a time, as she stood with her
+hands upon his shoulders gazing calmly in his eyes, she said softly--
+
+"Tell me now: what did Harry say?"  Leslie was silent for a while.
+Then, clasping her more tightly to his breast, he said in a low, deep
+voice--
+
+"Tell Louie I have found in you the truest brother that ever lived; ask
+her some day to make it so indeed."
+
+There was a long silence, during which the door was pressed slowly open;
+but they did not heed, and he who entered heard his child's words come
+almost in a whisper.
+
+"Some day," she said; "some day when time has softened all these griefs.
+Your own words, Duncan."
+
+"Yes," he said, "my own."
+
+"Hah!"
+
+They did not start from their embrace as that long-drawn sigh fell upon
+their ears, but both asked the same question with their eyes.
+
+"Yes," said George Vine gravely as he took Leslie's hand and bent down
+to kiss his child, "it has been a long dark night, but joy cometh in the
+morning."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XXIII.
+
+UNCLE LUKE HAS A WORD.
+
+John Van Heldre sat in his office chair at his table once more after a
+long and weary absence, and Crampton stood opposite scowling at him.
+
+The old clerk had on one of his most sour looks when Van Heldre raised
+his eyes from the ledger he was scanning, and he made no remark; but
+looking up again he saw the scowl apparently intensified.
+
+"What's the matter, Crampton?  Afraid I shall discover that you have
+been guilty of embezzlement?" said Van Heldre, smiling.
+
+"Not a bit," said the old clerk, "nor you aren't either."
+
+"Then what is the meaning of the black look?"
+
+"Oh, nothing--nothing!"
+
+"Come, out with it, man.  What's the matter?"
+
+"Well, if you must know, sir, I want to know why you can't keep quiet
+and get quite well, instead of coming muddling here."
+
+"Crampton!"
+
+"Well, I must speak, sir.  I don't want you to be laid up again."
+
+"No fear."
+
+"But there is fear, sir.  You know I can keep things going all right."
+
+"Yes, Crampton, and show a better balance than I did."
+
+"Well then, sir, why don't you let me go on?  I can manage, and I will
+manage if you'll take a holiday."
+
+"Holiday, man? why it has been nothing but one long painful holiday
+lately, and this does me good.  Now bring in the other book."
+
+Crampton grunted and went into the outer office to return with the
+cash-book, which he placed before his employer, and drew back into his
+old position, watching Van Heldre as he eagerly scanned the pages and
+marked their contents till, apparently satisfied, he looked up to see
+that Crampton was smiling down at him.
+
+"What now?"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I say what now?  Why are you laughing?"
+
+"Only smiling, sir."
+
+"Well, what have I done that is ridiculous?"
+
+"Ridiculous?  Why I was smiling because it seemed like the good old
+times to have you back busy with the books."
+
+"Crampton, we often say that my old friend is an eccentric character,
+but really I think Luke Vine must give place to you."
+
+"Dessay," said Crampton sourly.  "You go on with these accounts.  Look
+half-way down."
+
+Van Heldre did look half-way down, and paused.
+
+"Five hundred pounds on the credit side, per the cheque I wrote for Mr
+Luke Vine--why, what's this?"
+
+"Ah! that's what you may well say, sir.  Refused to take the money, sir.
+I'm sure I'm not so eccentric as that."
+
+"But you never mentioned it, Crampton?"
+
+"Yes, I did, sir, with my pen.  There it is in black and white.  Better
+and plainer than sounding words; and besides, you weren't here."
+
+"But this is absurd, Crampton."
+
+"That's what I told him, sir."
+
+"Well, what did he say?"
+
+"That I was an old fool, sir."
+
+"Tut--tut--tut!" ejaculated Van Heldre; "but he must be paid.  I can't
+let him lose the money."
+
+"What I told him, sir.  I said we couldn't let him lose the money."
+
+"What did he say to that?"
+
+"Called me an old fool again much stronger, sir.  Most ungentlemanly--
+used words, sir, that he must have picked up on the beach."
+
+"I hardly like to trouble him directly he is back; but would you mind
+sending up to Mr Luke Vine, with my compliments, and asking him to come
+here."
+
+"Send at once, sir?"
+
+"At once."
+
+"Perhaps before I leave the office, sir, I might as well call your
+attention to a communication received this morning."
+
+Van Heldre looked inquiringly at his old clerk.
+
+"It's rather curious, sir," he said, handing a letter which he had been
+keeping back as a sort of _bonne bouche_ for the last piece of business
+transacted that morning.
+
+"Never presented yet?" said Van Heldre, nodding his head slowly.
+
+"They must have known I stopped the notes directly," said Crampton with
+a self-satisfied smile.
+
+"I had hoped that the whole of that terrible business had been buried
+for good."
+
+"So it has, sir," grunted Crampton; "but some one or another keeps
+digging it up again."
+
+Van Heldre made no reply, so Crampton left the office, sent off a
+messenger, and returned to find his employer seated with his face buried
+in his hands, thinking deeply, and heedless of his presence.
+
+"Poor George!" he said aloud.  "Poor misguided boy!  I wish Crampton had
+been--"
+
+"I'm back here," said Crampton.
+
+"Ah!  Crampton," said Van Heldre starting, "sent off the message?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I've sent off the message," said the old man sternly.  "Pray
+finish what you were saying, sir.  Never mind my feelings."
+
+"What I was saying, Crampton?  I did not say anything."
+
+"Oh yes, you did, sir; you wished Crampton had been--what, sir?--buried
+too, like the trouble?"
+
+"My good fellow--my dear old Crampton! surely I did not say that aloud."
+
+"How could I have heard it, sir, if you hadn't?  I only did my duty."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, of course, Crampton.  Really I am very, very
+sorry."
+
+"And only just before I left the room you were complaining about people
+digging up the old trouble."
+
+"Come, Crampton, I can deny that.  I apologise for thinking aloud, but
+it was you who spoke of digging up the old trouble."
+
+"Ah! well, it doesn't matter, sir.  It was my birthday just as you were
+at your worst.  Seventy-five, Mr Van Heldre, sir, and you can't be
+troubled with such a blundering old clerk much longer."
+
+"My dear Crampton--"
+
+"May I come in?" followed by three thumps with a heavy stick.
+
+Crampton hurried to the outer office to confront Uncle Luke.
+
+"Met your messenger just outside, and saved him from going up.  How much
+did you give him?  He ought to pay that back."
+
+"Oh, never mind that, Luke.  How are you?"
+
+"How am I?"
+
+"Yes.  Getting settled down again?"
+
+"How am I?  Well, a little better this morning.  Do I smell of yellow
+soap?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Wonder at it.  I spent nearly all yesterday trying to get off the
+London dirt and smoke.  Treat to get back to where there's room to
+breathe."
+
+"Ah, you never did like London."
+
+"And London never liked me, so we're even there.  Well," he continued
+after a pause filled up by a low muttering grunt, "what do you want?
+You didn't send for me to come and tell you that I had caught a cold on
+my journey down or got a rheumatic twinge."
+
+"No, no, Luke, of course not."
+
+"Nice one, 'pon my word!" muttered Crampton.
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+Crampton moved towards the door, his way lying by Uncle Luke; but just
+as he neared the opening, the visitor made a stab at the wall with his
+heavy stick, and, as it were, raised a bar before the old clerk, who
+started violently.
+
+"Bless my heart, Mr Luke Vine!" he cried; "what are you about?  Don't
+do that."
+
+"Stop here, then.  Who told you to go?"
+
+"No one, sir, but--"
+
+"How do I know what he wants.  I may be glad of a witness."
+
+"Oh, yes!  You need not go, Crampton," said Van Heldre.  "Sit down,
+Luke."
+
+"No, thankye.  Sit too much for my health now.  Come: out with it.  What
+do you want?  There is something."
+
+"Yes, there is something," said Van Heldre quietly.  "Look here, my dear
+Luke Vine."
+
+"Thought as much," sneered the old man.  "You want to borrow money, _my
+dear_ Van Heldre."
+
+"No; I want to pay money, Luke Vine.  It seems that you have returned
+that five hundred pounds to Crampton."
+
+"What five hundred pounds?"
+
+"The money you--there, we will not dwell upon that old trouble, my dear
+Luke.  Come: you know what I mean."
+
+"Oh, I see," said the old man with much surprise.  "That five hundred
+pounds.  Well, what about it?"
+
+"How could you be so foolish as to return my cheque?"
+
+"Because you didn't owe me the money."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear fellow!  We are old friends, but that was entirely a
+business transaction."
+
+"Yes, of course it was."
+
+"Five hundred pounds were stolen."
+
+"Yes, and I was all right."
+
+"Exactly.  Why should you suppose it was your money?"
+
+"Suppose?  Because it was mine--my new Bank of England notes."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Never mind how I know it, and never mind talking about the money I
+didn't lose."
+
+"But you did, Luke Vine, and heavily.  Of course I am going to refund
+you the money."
+
+"You can't, man."
+
+"Can't?"
+
+"No; because I've got it safely put away in my pocket-book."
+
+Van Heldre made an impatient gesticulation.
+
+"I tell you I have.  The same notes, same numbers, just as you laid them
+all together."
+
+"Nonsense, man!  Come, Luke Vine, my dear old friend, let me settle this
+matter with you in a business-like way; I shall not be happy till I do."
+
+"Then you'll have to wait a long time for happiness, John," said Uncle
+Luke, smiling, "for you are not going to pay me."
+
+"But, my dear Luke."
+
+"But, my dear John! you men who turn over your thousands are as careless
+as boys over small amounts, as you call them."
+
+"Oh, come, Mr Luke Vine, sir," said Crampton sturdily; "there's no
+carelessness in this office."
+
+"Bah!  Clerk!" cried Uncle Luke.  "Careful, very.  Then how was it the
+money was stolen?"
+
+"Well, sir, nobody can guard against violence," said Crampton sourly.
+
+"Yes, they can, you pompous old antiquity.  I could.  I'm not a business
+man.  I don't have ledgers and iron safes and a big office, but I took
+care of the money better than you did."
+
+"My dear Luke Vine, what do you mean?" cried Van Heldre, after giving
+Crampton a look which seemed to say, "Don't take any notice."
+
+"Mean?  Why, what I said.  You people were so careless that I didn't
+trust you.  I had no confidence."
+
+"Well, sir, you had confidence enough to place five hundred pounds in
+our house," said Crampton gruffly.
+
+"Yes, and you lost it."
+
+"Yes, sir, and our house offered you a cheque for the amount, and you
+sent it back."
+
+"Of course I did.  I didn't want my money twice over, did I?"
+
+"Is this meant for a riddle, Luke?" said Van Heldre, annoyed, and yet
+amused.
+
+"Riddle?  No.  I only want to prick that old bubble Crampton, who is so
+proud of the way in which he can take care of money, and who has always
+been these last ten years flourishing that iron safe in my face."
+
+"Really, Mr Luke Vine!"
+
+"Hold your tongue, sir!  Wasn't my five hundred pounds--new, crisp Bank
+of England notes--in your charge?"
+
+"Yes, sir, in our charge."
+
+"Then why didn't you watch over them, and take care of 'em?  Where are
+they now?"
+
+"Well, sir, it is hard to say.  They have never been presented at any
+bank."
+
+"Of course they haven't, when I've got 'em safe in my pocket-book."
+
+"In your pocket-book, sir?"
+
+"Yes.  Don't you believe me?  There; look.  Bit rubbed at the edges with
+being squeezed in the old leather; but there are the notes; aren't they?
+Look at the numbers."
+
+As the old man spoke he took a shabby old pocket-book from his breast,
+opened it, and drew out a bundle of notes, held together by an elastic
+band, and laid them on the office table with a bang.
+
+"Bless my heart!" cried Crampton excitedly, as he hastily put on his
+spectacles and examined the notes, and compared them with an entry in a
+book.  "Yes, sir," he said to Van Heldre; "these are the very notes."
+
+"But how came you by them, Luke Vine?" cried Van Heldre, who looked as
+much astounded as his clerk.
+
+"How came I by them?" snarled Uncle Luke.  "Do you think five hundred
+pounds are to be picked up in the gutter.  I meant that money, and more
+too, for that unfortunate boy; and the more careless he was the more
+necessary it became for me to look after his interests."
+
+"You meant that money for poor Harry?"
+
+"To be sure I did, and by the irony of fate the poor misguided lad sent
+his companion to steal it."
+
+"Good heavens!" ejaculated Van Heldre, while Crampton nodded his head so
+sharply that his spectacles dropped off, and were only saved from
+breaking by a quick interposition of the hands.
+
+"And did the foolish fellow restore the money to you?" said Van Heldre.
+
+"Bah! no!  He never had it."
+
+"Then how--"
+
+"How?  Don't I tell you I watched--hung about the place, not feeling
+satisfied about my property, and I came upon my gentleman just as he was
+escaping with the plunder."
+
+"And--" exclaimed Crampton excitedly.
+
+"I knocked him down--with that ruler, and got my money out of his
+breast.  Narrow escape, but I got it."
+
+"Why did you not mention this before, Luke Vine?"
+
+"Because I had got my money safe--because I wanted to give clever people
+a lesson--because I did not want to see my nephew in gaol--because I did
+not choose--because--Here, you Crampton, give me back those notes.
+Thank ye, I'll take care of them in future myself."
+
+He replaced the notes in the case, and buttoned it carefully in his
+breast.
+
+"Luke, you astonish me," cried Van Heldre.
+
+"Eccentric, my dear sir, eccentric.  Now, then, you see why I returned
+you the cheque.  Morning."
+
+Crampton took out his silk pocket-handkerchief, and began to polish his
+glasses as he gazed hard at his employer after following Uncle Luke to
+the door, which was closed sharply.
+
+"Poor Harry Vine!" said Van Heldre sadly.  "Combining with another to
+rob himself.  Surely the ways of sin are devious, Crampton?"
+
+"Yes," said the old man thoughtfully.  "I wish I had waited till you got
+well."
+
+"Too late to think of that, Crampton," said Van Heldre sadly.  "When do
+you go to Pradelle's trial?"
+
+"There, sir, you've been an invalid, and you're not well yet.  Suppose
+we keep that trouble buried, and let other people dig it up, and I'll go
+when I'm obliged.  I suppose you don't want to screen him?"
+
+"I screen him?"
+
+"Hah!" ejaculated the old clerk, who began rubbing his hands, "then I'm
+all right there.  I should like to see that fellow almost hung--not
+quite."
+
+"Poor wretch!"
+
+"Know anything about--eh?"
+
+"Harry Vine?  Not yet.  Only that he has escaped somewhere, I hope, for
+good."
+
+"Yes, sir, I hope so too--for _good_."
+
+Volume 3, Chapter XXIV.
+
+TRIED IN THE FIRE.
+
+After, as it were, a race for life, the breathless competitors seemed to
+welcome the restful change, and the sleep that came almost unalloyed by
+the mental pangs which had left their marks upon the brows of young and
+old.  And swift tides came and went with the calms and storms of the
+western coast, but somehow all seemed to tell of rest and peace.
+
+It was a year after Victor Pradelle had been placed in what Sergeant
+Parkins facetiously termed one of her Majesty's boarding-schools, under
+a good master, that John Van Heldre wrote the following brief letter in
+answer to one that was very long, dated a month previous to the
+response, and bearing the post-mark of the Straits Settlements:--
+
+"Harry Vine,--I quite appreciate what you say regarding your long
+silence.  I am too old a man to believe in a hasty repentance forced on
+by circumstances.  Hence, I say, you have done wisely in waiting a year
+before writing as fully as you have.  George and Luke Vine have always
+been to me as brothers.  You know how I felt toward their son.  I say to
+him now, you are acting wisely, and I am glad that you have met such a
+friend as Richard Leslie.
+
+"Certainly: stay where you are, though there is nothing to fear now from
+the law, I guarantee that.  The years soon roll by.  I say this for all
+our sakes.
+
+"As to the final words of your letter--one of my earliest recollections
+is that of my little hands being held together by one whom you lost too
+soon in life.  Had your mother lived your career might have been
+different.  What I was taught as my little hands were held together, I
+still repeat: `As we forgive them that trespass against us.'  Yes.  Some
+day I hope to give you in the flesh that which I give you in spirit
+now--my hand."
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Six more years had passed before a broad-shouldered, bronzed, and
+bearded man--partner in the firm of Leslie and Vine, Singapore and
+Penang--grasped John Van Heldre's hand, and asked him a question to
+which the old merchant replied: "Yes, all is forgiven and forgotten now.
+If you can win her: yes."
+
+But the days glided on and the question was not asked.  Uncle Harry was
+constantly on the beach or down on the rocks with the two little
+prattling children of Duncan Leslie and his wife, and Uncle Luke, who
+seemed much the same, was rather disposed to be jealous of the favour in
+which the returned wanderer stood; but he indulged in a pleasant smile
+now and then, when he was not seen, and had taken to a habit of stopping
+his nephew on the beach at unexpected times, and apparently for no
+reason whatever.
+
+The question was not asked, for Aunt Marguerite, who had taken to her
+bed for the past year, was evidently fading fast.  As Dr Knatchbull
+said, she had been dying for months, and it was the state of her health
+which brought her nephew back to England, to find his old sins forgotten
+or forgiven, a year sooner than he had intended.
+
+By slow degrees the vitality had passed from the old woman step by step,
+till the brain alone remained bright and clear.  She was as exacting as
+ever, and insisted upon her bed being draped with flowers and lace and
+silk, and her one gratification was to be propped up, with a fan in one
+nerveless hand and a scent-bottle in the other, listening to the reading
+of some old page of French history, over which she smiled and softly
+nodded her head.
+
+One day Harry was down near the harbour talking to Poll Perrow, whose
+society he often affected, to the old woman's great delight, when
+Madelaine Van Heldre came to him hastily.
+
+"Is anything wrong?" he asked excitedly.
+
+She bowed her head, and for the moment could not speak.
+
+"Aunt Marguerite?"
+
+"Yes.  I was reading to her, and you know her way, Harry; half mockingly
+she was telling me that I should never gain the pure French accent, when
+she seemed to change suddenly, and gasped out your name.  Louie had not
+gone home; I was relieving her, as I often do now, and she is with her
+aunt.  Leslie has gone to fetch Mr Vine, who is down on the shore with
+Uncle Luke."
+
+A few minutes later Harry was in the old lady's room, the doctor making
+way for him to approach the bed, about which the rest of the family were
+grouped.
+
+"There," she said sharply, "you need not wait.  I want to speak to
+Harry."
+
+He bent down to place his arm beneath the feeble neck, and she smiled up
+at him with the ruling passion still strong even in death, and her words
+came very faintly; but he heard them all:
+
+"Remember, Harry, the hope of our family rests on you.  We are the Des
+Vignes, say what they will.  Now marry--soon--some good, true woman, one
+of the _Haute Noblesse_."
+
+"Yes, aunt, I will."
+
+An hour later she was peacefully asleep.
+
+"Closed in death," said Harry Vine as he laid his hand reverently across
+the withered lids; "but her eyes must be open now, father, to the
+truth."
+
+There was to be a quiet little dinner at Leslie's about a fortnight
+later, and after a walk down through the churchyard, the party were
+going up the steep cliff-path.  Leslie and his handsome young wife were
+on ahead; the old men coming slowly toiling on behind as Harry stopped
+with Madelaine in the well-known sheltered niche.
+
+They stood gazing out at the sea, stretching as it were into infinity,
+and as they gazed they went on with their conversation, talking calmly
+of the quaint old lady's prejudices and ways.
+
+"Did you hear her last last words?" said Harry gravely.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The look which accompanied the answer was frank and calm.  It seemed to
+lack emotion, but there was a depth of patient truth and trust therein
+which told of enduring faith.
+
+"She would have me marry soon--some good, true woman, one of the _Haute
+Noblesse_."
+
+"Yes; it would be better so."
+
+"I have loved one of the _Haute Noblesse_ for seven years as a weak,
+foolish boy--seven years as a trusting man--and she has not changed.
+Maddy, is my reward to come at last?"
+
+As Madelaine placed her hands calmly in those extended to her she seemed
+without emotion still; but there was a joyous light in her brightening
+eyes, and then a deep flush suffused her cheeks as two words were spoken
+by one of the trio of old men who had slowly toiled up towards where
+they stood.  "Thank God!"
+
+It was George Vine who spoke, and the others seemed to look "_Amen_."
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Of High Descent, by George Manville Fenn
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