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diff --git a/40951-0.txt b/40951-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..866e60e --- /dev/null +++ b/40951-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13268 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40951 *** + + JOHNNY LUDLOW + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + + JOHNNY LUDLOW + + BY + MRS. HENRY WOOD + AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," ETC. + + _FIFTH SERIES_ + + +London+ + MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + 1899 + + + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + FEATHERSTON'S STORY 1 + WATCHING ON ST. MARK'S EVE 205 + SANKER'S VISIT 224 + ROGER MONK 245 + THE EBONY BOX 271 + OUR FIRST TERM AT OXFORD 349 + + + + + "God sent his Singers upon earth + With songs of sadness and of mirth, + That they might touch the hearts of men, + And bring them back to heaven again." + LONGFELLOW. + + + + +JOHNNY LUDLOW. + + + + +FEATHERSTON'S STORY. + + +I. + +I have called this Featherston's story, because it was through him that +I heard about it--and, indeed, saw a little of it towards the end. + + * * * * * + +Buttermead, the wide straggling district to which Featherston enjoyed +the honour of being doctor-in-ordinary, was as rural as any that can be +found in Worcestershire. Featherston's house stood at the end of the +village. Whitney Hall lay close by; as did our school, Dr. Frost's. In +the neighbourhood were scattered a few other substantial residences, +some farmers' homesteads and labourers' cottages. Featherston was a slim +man, with long thin legs and a face grey and careworn. His patients +(like the soldier's steam arm) gave him no rest day or night. + +There is no need to go into details here about Featherston's people. +His sister, Mary Ann, lived in his house at one time, and for everyday +ailments was almost as good a doctor as he. She was not at all like +him: a merry, talkative, sociable little woman, with black hair and +quick, kindly dark eyes. + +Our resident French master in those days at Dr. Frost's was one Monsieur +Jules Carimon: a small man with honest blue eyes in his clean-shaven +face, and light brown hair cropped close to his head. He was an awful +martinet at study, but a genial little gentleman out of it. To the +surprise of Buttermead, he and Mary Featherston set up a courtship. It +was carried on in sober fashion, as befitted a sober couple who had both +left thirty years, and the rest, behind them; and after a summer or two +of it they laid plans for their marriage and for living in France. + +"I'm sure I don't know what on earth I shall do amongst the French, +Johnny Ludlow," Mary said to me in her laughing way, when I and Bill +Whitney were having tea at Featherston's one half-holiday, the week +before the wedding. "Jules protests they are easier to get on with than +the English; not so stiff and formal; but I don't pay attention to all +he says, you know." + +Monsieur Jules Carimon was going to settle down at his native place, +Sainteville--a town on the opposite coast, which had a service of +English steamers running to it two or three times a-week. He had +obtained the post of first classical master at the college there, and +meant to eke out his salary (never large in French colleges) by teaching +French and mathematics to as many English pupils as he could obtain out +of hours. Like other northern French seaport towns, Sainteville had its +small colony of British residents. + +"We shall get on; I am not afraid," answered Mary Featherston to a +doubting remark made to her by old Mrs. Selby of the Court. "Neither I +nor Jules have been accustomed to luxury, and we don't care for it. We +would as soon make our dinner of bread-and-butter and radishes, as of +chicken and apple-tart." + +So the wedding took place, and they departed the same day for +Sainteville. And of the first two or three years after that there's +nothing good or bad to record. + +Selby Court lay just outside Buttermead. Its mistress, an ancient lady +now, was related to the Preen family, of whom I spoke in that story +which told of the tragical death of Oliver. Lavinia Preen, sister to +Oliver's father, Gervase Preen, but younger, lived with Mrs. Selby as +a sort of adopted daughter; and when the death of the father, old Mr. +Preen, left nearly all his large family with scarcely any cheese to +their bread, Mrs. Selby told Ann Preen, the youngest of them all, that +she might come to her also. So Lavinia and Ann Preen lived at the Court, +and had no other home. + +These two ladies were intimate with Mary Featherston, all three being +much attached to one another. When Mary married and left her country +for France, the Miss Preens openly resented it, saying she ought to +have had more consideration. Did some premonitory instinct prompt that +unreasonable resentment? I cannot say. No one can say. But it is certain +that had Mary Featherston not gone to live abroad, the ominous chain of +events fated to engulf the sisters could not have touched them, and this +account, which is a perfectly true one, would never have been written. + +For a short time after the marriage they and Mary Carimon exchanged a +letter now and then; not often, for foreign postage was expensive; and +then it dropped altogether. + +Mrs. Selby became an invalid, and died. She left each of the two sisters +seventy pounds a-year for life; if the one died, the other was to enjoy +the whole; when both were dead, it would lapse back to the Selby estate. + +"Seventy pounds a-year!" remarked Ann Preen to her sister. "It does not +seem very much, does it, Lavinia? Shall we be able to live upon it?" + +They were seated in the wainscoted parlour at Selby Court, talking of +the future. The funeral was over, and they must soon leave; for the +house was waiting to be done up for the reception of its new master, Mr. +Paul Selby, an old bachelor full of nervous fancies. + +"We must live upon it, Nancy," said Lavinia in answer to her. + +She was the stronger-minded of the two, and she looked it. A keen, +practical woman, of rather more than middle height, with smooth brown +hair, pleasant, dark hazel eyes, and a bright glow in her cheeks. Ann +(or Nancy, as she was more often called) was smaller and lighter, with +a pretty face, a shower of fair ringlets, and mild, light-blue eyes; +altogether not unlike a pink-and-white wax doll. + +"We should have been worse off, Nancy, had she not left us anything; and +sometimes I have feared she might not," remarked Lavinia cheerfully. "It +will be a hundred and forty pounds between us, dear; we can live upon +that." + +"Of course we can, if you think so, Lavinia," said the other, who deemed +her elder sister wiser than any one in the world, and revered her +accordingly. + +"But we should live cheaper abroad than here, I expect," continued +Lavinia. "It's said money goes twice as far in France as in England. +Suppose we were to go over, Nancy, and try? We could come back if we did +not like it." + +Nancy's eyes sparkled. "I think it would be delightful," she said. +"Money go further in France--why, to be sure it does! Aunt Emily is able +to live like a princess at Tours, by all accounts. Yes, yes, Lavinia, +let us try France!" + + * * * * * + +One fine spring morning the Miss Preens packed up their bag and baggage +and started for the Continent. They went direct to Tours, intending to +make that place their pied-à-terre, as the French phrase it; at any +rate, for a time. It was not, perhaps, the wisest thing they could have +done. + +For Mrs. Magnus, formerly Emily Preen, and their late father's sister, +did not welcome them warmly. She lived in style herself, one of the +leading stars in the society of Tours; and she did not at all like that +two middle-aged nieces, of straitened means, should take up their abode +in the next street. So Mrs. Magnus met her nieces with the assurance +that Tours would not do for them; it was too expensive a place; they +would be swamped in it. Mrs. Magnus was drawing near to the close of her +life then; had she known it, she might have been kinder, and let them +remain; but she was not able to foresee the hour of that great event +which must happen to us all any more than other people are. Oliver +Preen was with her then, revelling in the sunny days which were flitting +away on gossamer wings. + +"Lavinia, do you think we can stay at Tours?" + +The Miss Preens had descended at a fourth-rate hotel, picked out of the +guide-book. When Ann asked this question, they were sitting after dinner +in the table d'hôte room, their feet on the sanded floor. Sanded floors +were quite usual at that time in many parts of France. + +"Stay here to put up with Aunt Emily's pride and insolence!" quickly +answered Miss Preen. "No. I will tell you what I have done, Ann. I wrote +yesterday to Mary Carimon, asking her about Sainteville; whether she +thinks it will suit us, and so on. As soon as her answer comes--she's +certain to say yes--we will _go_, dear, and leave Mrs. Magnus to her +grandeur. And, once we are safe away, _I shall write her a letter_," +added Lavinia, in decisive tones; "a letter which she won't like." + +Madame Carimon's answer came by return of post. It was as cordial as +herself. Sainteville would be the very place for them, she said, and she +should count the hours until they were there. + +The Miss Preens turned their backs upon Tours, shaking its dust off +their shoes. Lavinia had a little nest of accumulated money, so was at +ease in that respect. And when the evening of the following day the +railway terminus at Sainteville was reached, the pleasant, smiling face +of Mary Carimon was the first they saw outside the barrière. She must +have been nearly forty now, but she did not look a day older than when +she had left Buttermead. Miss Lavinia was a year or two older than +Mary; Miss Ann a year or two younger. + +"You must put up at the Hôtel des Princes," remarked Madame Carimon. "It +is the only really good one in the town. They won't charge you too much; +my husband has spoken to the landlady. And you must spend to-morrow with +me." + +The hotel omnibus was waiting for them and other passengers, the luggage +was piled on the roof, and Madame Carimon accompanied them to the hotel. +A handsome hotel, the sisters thought; quite another thing from the one +at Tours. Mary Carimon introduced them to the landlady, Madame Podevin, +saw them seated down to tea and a cold fowl, and then left for the +night. + +With Sainteville the Miss Preens were simply charmed. It was a fresh, +clean town, with wide streets, and good houses and old families, and +some bright shops. The harbour was large, and the pier extended out to +the open sea. + +"I _should_ like to live here!" exclaimed Miss Lavinia, sitting down at +Madame Carimon's, in a state of rapture. "I never saw such a nice town, +or such a lovely market." + +They had been about all the morning with Madame Carimon. It was +market-day, Wednesday. The market was held on the Grande Place; and +the delicious butter, the eggs, the fresh vegetables, the flowers and +the poultry, took Miss Lavinia's heart by storm. Nancy was more taken +with the picturesque market-women, in their white caps and long gold +ear-rings. Other ladies were doing their marketing as well as Madame +Carimon. She spoke to most of them, in French or in English, as the +case might be. Under the able tuition of her husband, she talked French +fluently now. + +Madame Carimon's habitation--very nice, small and compact--was in the +Rue Pomme Cuite. The streets have queer names in some of these old +French towns. It was near the college, which was convenient for Monsieur +Carimon. Here they lived, with their elderly servant, Pauline. The same +routine went on daily in the steady little domicile from year's end to +year's end. + +"Jules goes to the college at eight o'clock every week-day, after a cup +of coffee and a petit pain," said madame to her guests, "and he returns +at five to dinner. He takes his déjeûner in the college at twelve, and I +take mine alone at home. On Sundays he has no duty: we attend the French +Protestant Church in a morning, dine at one o'clock, and go for a walk +in the afternoon." + +"You have no children, Mary?" + +Mary Carimon's lively face turned sad as she answered: "There was one +little one; she stayed with us six months, and then God took her. I +wrote to you of it, you know, Lavinia. No, we have not any children. +Best not, Jules says; and I agree with him. They might only leave us +when we have learnt to love them; and that's a trial hard to bear. Best +as it is." + +"I'm sure I should never learn to speak French, though we lived here for +a century," exclaimed Miss Lavinia. "Only to hear you jabbering to your +servant, Mary, quite distracts one's ears." + +"Yes, you would. You would soon pick up enough to be understood in the +shops and at market." + +At five o'clock, home came Monsieur Carimon. He welcomed the Miss +Preens with honest, genuine pleasure, interspersed with a little French +ceremony; making them about a dozen bows apiece before he met the hands +held out to him. + +They had quite a gala dinner. Soup to begin with--broth, the English +ladies inwardly pronounced it--and then fish. A small cod, bought by +Madame Carimon at the fish-market in the morning, with oyster sauce. +Ten sous she had given for the cod, for she knew how to bargain now, +and six sous for a dozen oysters, as large as a five-franc piece. +This was followed by a delicious little fricandeau of veal, and that +by a tarte à la crême from the pastrycook's. She told her guests +unreservedly what all the dishes cost, to show them how reasonably +people might live at Sainteville. + +Over the coffee, after dinner, the question of their settling in the +place was fully gone into, for the benefit of Monsieur Carimon's +opinions, who gave them in good English. + +"Depend upon it, Lavinia, you could not do better," remarked Mary +Carimon. "If you cannot make your income do here, you cannot anywhere." + +"We want to make it do well; not to betray our poverty, but to be able +to maintain a fairly good appearance," said Lavinia. "You understand me, +I am sure, monsieur." + +"But certainly, mademoiselle," he answered; "it is what we all like to +do at Sainteville, I reckon." + +"And _can_ do, if we are provident," added madame. "French ways are not +English ways. Our own income is small, Lavinia, yet we put by out of +it." + +"A fact that goes without saying," confirmed the pleasant little man. +"If we did not put by, where would my wife be when I am no longer able +to work?" + +"Provisions being so cheap---- What did you say, Nancy?" asked Madame +Carimon, interrupting herself. + +"I was going to say that I could live upon oysters, and should like to," +replied Nancy, shaking back her flaxen curls with a laugh. "Half-a-dozen +of those great big oysters would make me a lovely dinner any day--and +the cost would be only three halfpence." + +"And only fivepence the cost of that beautiful fish," put in her sister. +"In Sainteville our income would amply suffice." + +"It seems to me that it would, mesdemoiselles," observed Monsieur +Carimon. "Three thousand five hundred francs yearly! We French should +think it a sufficient sum. Doubtless much would depend upon the way in +which you laid it out." + +"What should we have to pay for lodgings, Mary?" inquired Lavinia. "Just +a nice sitting-room and two small bedrooms; or a large room with two +beds in it; and to be waited on?" + +"Oh, you won't find that at Sainteville," was the unexpected answer. +"Nobody lets lodgings English fashion: it's not the custom over here. +You can find a furnished apartment, but the people will not wait upon +you. There is always a little kitchen let with the rooms, and you must +have your own servant." + +It was the first check the ladies had received. They sat thinking. "Dear +me!" exclaimed Nancy. "No lodgings!" + +"Would the apartments you speak of be very dear?" asked Lavinia. + +"That depends upon the number of rooms and the situation," replied +Madame Carimon. "I cannot call to mind just now any small apartment that +is vacant. If you like, we will go to-morrow and look about." + +It was so arranged. And little Monsieur Carimon attended the ladies +back to the Hôtel des Princes at the sober hour of nine, and bowed them +into the porte cochère with two sweeps of his hat, wishing them the +good-evening and the very good-night. + + +II. + +Thursday morning. Nancy Preen awoke with a sick headache, and could not +get up. But in the afternoon, when she was better, they went to Mary +Carimon's, and all three set out to look for an apartment--not meeting +with great success. + +All they saw were too large, and priced accordingly. There was one, +indeed, in the Rue Lamartine, which suited as to size, but the rooms +were inconvenient and stuffy; and there was another small one on the +Grande Place, dainty and desirable, but the rent was very high. Madame +Carimon at once offered the landlord half-price, French custom: she +dealt at his shop for her groceries. No, no, he answered; his apartment +was the nicest in the town for its size, as mesdames saw, and it was in +the best situation--and not a single sou would the worthy grocer abate. + +They were growing tired, then; and five o'clock, the universal hour at +Sainteville for dinner, was approaching. + +"Come round to me after dinner, and we will talk it over," said Mary +Carimon, when they parted. "I will give you a cup of tea." + +They dined at the table d'hôte, which both of them thought charming, and +then proceeded to the Rue Pomme Cuite. Monsieur Carimon was on the point +of going out, to spend an hour at the Café Pillaud, but he put down his +hat to wait awhile, out of respect to the ladies. They told him about +not having found an apartment to suit them. + +"Of course we have not searched all parts of the town, only the most +likely ones," said Madame Carimon. "There are large apartments to be +had, but no small ones. We can search again to-morrow." + +"I suppose there's not a little house to be had cheap, if we cannot find +an apartment?" cried Miss Nancy, who was in love with Sainteville, and +had set her heart upon remaining there. + +"Tiens," quickly spoke Monsieur Carimon in French to his wife, "there's +the Petite Maison Rouge belonging to Madame Veuve Sauvage, in the Place +Ronde. It is still to let: I saw the affiche in the shop window to-day. +What do you think of it, Marie?" + +Madame Carimon did not seem to know quite what to think. She looked at +her husband, then at the eager faces of her two friends; but she did not +speak. + +About half-way down the Rue Tessin, a busy street leading to the port, +was a wide opening, giving on to the Place Ronde. The Place Ronde agreed +with its name, for it was somewhat in form of a horseshoe. Some fifteen +or sixteen substantial houses were built round it, each having a shop +for its basement; and trees, green and feathery, were scattered about, +affording a slight though pleasant shelter from the hot sun in summer +weather. + +The middle house at the bottom of the Place Ronde, exactly facing the +opening from the Rue Tessin, was a very conspicuous house indeed, +inasmuch as it was painted red, whilst the other houses were white. All +of them had green persienne shutters to the upper windows. The shop, a +large one, belonging to this red house was that of the late Monsieur +Jean Sauvage, "Marchand de Vin en gros et en détail," as the +announcement over his door used to run in the later years of his life. +But when Jean Sauvage commenced business, in that same shop, it was only +as a retail vendor. Casting about in his mind one day for some means by +which his shop might be distinguished from other wine-shops and attract +customers, he hit upon the plan of painting the house red. No sooner +thought of than done. A painter was called, who converted the white +walls into a fiery vermilion, and stretched a board across the upper +part, between the windows of the first and second floors, on which +appeared in large letters "A la Maison Rouge." + +Whether this sort of advertisement drew the public, or whether it might +have been the sterling respectability and devotion to business of +Monsieur Sauvage, he got on most successfully. The Marchand en détail +became also Marchand en gros, and in course of time he added liqueurs to +his wines. No citizen of Sainteville was more highly esteemed than he, +both as a man and a tradesman. Since his death the business had been +carried on by his widow, aided by the two sons, Gustave and Emile. +Latterly Madame Veuve Sauvage had given up all work to them; she was now +in years, and had well earned her rest. They lived in the rooms over the +shop, which were large and handsome. In former days, when the energies +of herself and her husband were chiefly devoted to acquiring and saving +money, they had let these upper rooms for a good sum yearly. Old Madame +Sauvage might be seen any day now sitting at a front-window, looking out +upon the world between her embroidered white curtains. + +The door of this prosperous shop was between the two windows. The one +window displayed a few bottles of wine, most of them in straw cases; +in the other window were clear flacons of liqueurs: chartreuse, green +and yellow; curaçoa, warm and ruby; eau de vie de Danzick, with its +fluttering gold leaf; and many other sorts. + +However, it is not with the goods of Madame Veuve Sauvage that we +have to do, but with her premises. Standing in front of the shop, as +if coveting a bottle of that choice wine for to-day's dinner, or an +immediate glass of delicious liqueur, you may see on your right hand, +but to the left of the shop, the private door of the house. On the other +side the shop is also a door which opens to a narrow entry. The entry +looks dark, even in the mid-day sun, for it is pretty long, extending +down a portion of the side of the Maison Rouge, which is a deep house, +and terminating in a paved yard surrounded by high buildings. At the end +of the yard is a small dwelling, with two modern windows, one above the +other. Near the under window is the entrance-door, painted oak colour, +with a brass knob, a bell-wire with a curious handle, and a knocker. +This little house the late Monsieur Sauvage had also caused to be +converted into a red one, the same as the larger. + +In earlier days, when Jean Sauvage and his wife were putting their +shoulders to the wheel, they had lived in the little house with their +children; the two sons and the daughter, Jeanne. Jeanne Sauvage married +early and very well, an avocat. But since they had left it, the house in +the yard seemed to have been, as the Widow Sauvage herself expressed it, +unlucky. The first of the tenants had died there; the second had +disappeared--decamped in fact, to avoid paying rent and other debts; the +third had moved into a better house; and the fourth, an old widow lady, +had also died, owing a year's rent to Madame Sauvage, and leaving no +money to pay it. + +It was of this small dwelling, lying under the shadow of the Maison +Rouge, that Monsieur Carimon had thought. Turning to the Miss Preens, he +gave them briefly a few particulars, and said he believed the house was +to be had on very reasonable terms. + +"What do you call it?" exclaimed Lavinia. "The little red house?" + +"Yes, we call it so," said Monsieur Carimon. "Emile Sauvage was talking +of it to me the other evening at the café, saying they would be glad to +have it tenanted." + +"I fear our good friends here would find it dull," remarked Madame +Carimon to him. "It is in so gloomy a situation, you know, Jules." + +"Mon amie, I do not myself see how that signifies," said he in reply. +"If your house is comfortable inside, does it matter what it looks out +upon?" + +"Very true," assented Miss Lavinia, whose hopes had gone up again. "But +this house may not be furnished, Mary." + +"It is partly furnished," said Madame Carimon. "When the old lady who +was last in it died, they had to take her furniture for the rent. It was +not much, I have heard." + +"We should not want much, only two of us," cried Miss Ann eagerly. "Do +let us go to look at it to-morrow!" + +On the following day, Friday, the Miss Preens went to the Place Ronde, +piloted by Mary Carimon. They were struck with admiration at the Maison +Rouge, all a fiery glow in the morning sun, and a novelty to English +eyes. Whilst Madame Carimon went into the shop to explain and ask for +the key, the sisters gazed in at the windows. Lying on the wine-bottles +was a small black board on which was written in white letters, "Petite +Maison à louer." + +Monsieur Gustave Sauvage, key in hand, saluted the ladies in English, +which he spoke fairly well, and accompanied them to view the house. +The sun was very bright that day, and the confined yard did not look so +dull as at a less favourable time; and perhaps the brilliant red of the +little house, at which Nancy laughed, imparted a cheerfulness to it. +Monsieur Gustave opened the door with a latch-key, drew back, and waited +for them to enter. + +The first to do so, or to attempt to do so, was Miss Preen. But no +sooner had she put one foot over the threshold than she drew back with +a start, somewhat discomposing the others by the movement. + +"What is it, Lavinia?" inquired Ann. + +"Something seemed to startle me, and throw me backward!" exclaimed +Lavinia Preen, regaining her breath. "Perhaps it was the gloom of the +passage: it is very dark." + +"Pardon, mesdames," spoke Monsieur Gustave politely. "If the ladies will +forgive my entering before them, I will open the salon door." + +The passage was narrow. The broad shoulders of Monsieur Gustave almost +touched the wall on either side as he walked along. Almost at the other +end of it, on his left hand, was the salon door; he threw it open, and +a little light shone forth. The passage terminated in a small square +recess. At the back of this was fixed a shallow marble slab for holding +things, above which was a cupboard let into the wall. On the right +of the recess was the staircase; and opposite the staircase the +kitchen-door, the kitchen being behind the salon. + +The salon was nice when they were in it; the paint was fresh, the paper +light and handsome. It was of good size, and its large window looked to +the front. The kitchen opened upon a small back-yard, furnished with a +pump and a shed for wood or coal. On the floor above were two very good +chambers, one behind the other. Opposite these, on the other side of +the passage, was another room, not so large, but of fair size. It was +apparently built out over some part of the next-door premises, and +was lighted by a skylight. All the rooms were fresh and good, and the +passage had a window at the end. + +Altogether it was not an inconvenient abode for people who did not go +in for show. The furniture was plain, clean and useful, but it would +have to be added to. There were no grates, not even a cooking-stove in +the kitchen. It was very much the Sainteville custom at that period +for tenants to provide grates for themselves, plenty of which could +be bought or hired for a small sum. An easy-chair or two would be +needed; tea-cups and saucers and wine-glasses; and though, there were +washing-stands, these contained no jugs or basins; and there were no +sheets or tablecloths or towels, no knives or forks, no brooms or +brushes, and so on. + +"There is only this one sitting-room, you perceive," remarked Madame +Carimon, as they turned about, looking at the salon again, after coming +downstairs. + +"Yes, that's a pity, on account of dining," replied Miss Nancy. + +"One of our tenants made a pretty salon of the room above this, and this +the salle à manger," replied Monsieur Gustave. "Mesdames might like to +do the same, possibly?" + +He had pointedly addressed Miss Lavinia, near whom he stood. She did not +answer. In fact--it was a very curious thing, but a fact--Miss Lavinia +had not spoken a word since she entered. She had gone through the house +taking in its features in complete silence, just as if that shock at the +door had scared away her speech. + +The rent asked by Monsieur Gustave, acting for his mother, was very +moderate indeed--twenty pounds a-year, including the use of the +furniture. There would be no taxes to pay, he said; absolutely none; +the taxes of this little house, being upon their premises, were included +in their own. But to ensure this low rental, the house must be taken for +five years. + +"Of course we will take it--won't we, Lavinia?" cried Miss Ann in a loud +whisper. "_Only_ twenty pounds a-year! Just think of it!" + +"Sir," Miss Lavinia said to Monsieur Gustave, speaking at last, "the +house would suit us in some respects, especially as regards rent. But we +might find it too lonely: and I should hardly like to be bound for five +years." + +All that was of course for mesdames' consideration, he frankly +responded. But he thought that if the ladies were established in it +with their ménage about them, they would not find it lonely. + +"We will give you an answer to-morrow or Monday," decided Miss Lavinia. + +They went about the town all that day with Madame Carimon; but nothing +in the shape of an apartment could be found to suit them. Madame invited +them again to tea in the evening. And by that time they had decided to +take the house. Nancy was wild about it. What with the change from the +monotony of their country house to the bright and busy streets, the gay +outdoor life, the delights of the table d'hôte, Ann Preen looked upon +Sainteville as an earthly paradise. + +"The house is certainly more suited to you than anything else we have +seen," observed Madame Carimon. "I have nothing to say against the +Petite Maison Rouge, except its dull situation." + +"Did it strike you, Mary, apart from its situation, as being gloomy?" +asked Lavinia. + +"No. Once you are in the rooms they are cheerful enough." + +"It did me. Gloomy, with a peculiar gloom, you understand. I'm sure the +passage was dark as night. It must have been its darkness that startled +me as we were going in." + +"By the way, Lavinia, what was the matter with you then?" interrupted +her sister. + +"I don't know, Nancy; I said at the time I did not know. With my first +step into the passage, some horror seemed to meet me and drive me +backward." + +"Some horror!" repeated Nancy. + +"I seemed to feel it so. I had still the glare of the streets and the +fiery red walls in my eyes, which must have caused the house passage to +look darker than it ought. That was all, I suppose--but it turned me +sick with a sort of fear; sick and shivery." + +"That salon may be made as pretty a room as any in Sainteville," +remarked Madame Carimon. "Many of the English residents here have only +one salon in their apartments. You see, we don't go in for ceremony; +France is not like England." + +On the morrow the little house under the wing of the Maison Rouge was +secured by the Miss Preens. They took it in their joint names for five +years. To complete the transaction they were ushered upstairs to the +salon and presence of Madame Veuve Sauvage--a rather stately looking old +lady, attired in a voluminous black silk robe and a mourning cap of fine +muslin. Madame, who could not speak a syllable of English, conversed +graciously with her future tenants through the interpretation of Mary +Carimon, offering to be useful to them in any way she could. Lavinia +and Ann Preen both signed the bail, or agreement, and Madame Veuve +Sauvage likewise signed it; by virtue of which she became their +landlady, and they her tenants of the little house for five years. +Madame Carimon, and a shopman who came upstairs for the purpose, signed +as witnesses. + +Wine and the little cakes called pistolets were then introduced; and so +the bargain was complete. + +Oh if some kindly spirit from the all-seeing world above could only +have whispered a hint to those ill-fated sisters of what they were +doing!--had only whispered a warning in time to prevent it! Might not +that horror, which fell upon Lavinia as she was about to pass over the +door-sill, have served her as such? But who regards these warnings when +they come to us? Who personally applies them? None. + +Having purchased or hired the additional things required, the Miss +Preens took possession of their house. Nancy had the front bed-chamber, +which Lavinia thought rather the best, and so gave it up to her; Lavinia +took the back one. The one opposite, with the skylight, remained +unoccupied, as their servant did not sleep in the house. Not at all an +uncommon custom at Sainteville. + +An excellent servant had been found for them in the person of Flore +Pamart, a widow, who was honest, cooked well, and could talk away in +English; all recommendations that the ladies liked. Flore let herself in +with a latch-key before breakfast, and left as soon after five o'clock +in the evening as she could get the dinner things removed. Madame Flore +Pamart had one little boy named Dion, who went to school by day, but +was at home night and morning; for which reason his mother could only +take a daily service. + +Thus the Miss Preens became part of the small colony of English at +Sainteville. They took sittings in the English Protestant Church, which +was not much more than a room; and they subscribed to the casino on the +port when it opened for the summer season, spending many an evening +there, listening to the music, watching the dancing when there was any, +and chattering with the acquaintances they met. They were well regarded, +these new-comers, and they began to speak French after a fashion. Now +and then they went out to a soirée; once in a way gave one in return. +Very sober soirées indeed were those of Sainteville; consisting (as +Sam Weller might inform us) of tea at seven o'clock with, hot galette, +conversation, cake at ten (gâteau Suisse or gâteau au rhum), and a glass +of Picardin wine. + +They were pleased with the house, once they had settled down in it, and +never a shadow of regret crossed either of them for having taken the +Petite Maison Rouge. + +In this way about a twelvemonth wore on. + + +III. + +It was a fine morning at the beginning of April; the sun being +particularly welcome, as Sainteville had latterly been favoured with +a spell of ill-natured, bitter east winds. About eleven o'clock, Miss +Preen and her sister turned out of their house to take a walk on the +pier--which they liked to do most days, wind and weather permitting. In +going down the Rue des Arbres, they were met by a fresh-looking little +elderly gentleman, with rather long white hair, and wearing a white +necktie. He stopped to salute the ladies, bowing ceremoniously low +to each of them. It was Monsieur le Docteur Dupuis, a kindly man of +skilful reputation, who had now mostly, though not altogether, given up +practice to his son, Monsieur Henri Dupuis. Miss Lavinia had a little +acquaintance with the doctor, and took occasion to ask him news of the +public welfare; for there was raging in the town the malady called "la +grippe," which, being interpreted, means influenza. + +It was not much better at present, Monsieur Dupuis answered; but this +genial sunshine he hoped would begin to drive it away; and, with another +bow, he passed onward. + +The pier was soon reached, and they enjoyed their walk upon it. The +sunlight glinted on the rather turbulent waves of the sea in the +distance, but there was not much breeze to be felt on land. When +nearing the end of the pier their attention was attracted to a +fishing-boat, which was tumbling about rather unaccountably in its +efforts to make the harbour. + +"It almost looks from here as though it had lost its rudder, Nancy," +remarked Miss Lavinia. + +They halted, and stood looking over the side at the object of interest; +not particularly noticing that a gentleman stood near them, also looking +at the same through an opera-glass. He was spare, of middle height and +middle age; his hair was grey, his face pale and impassive; the light +over-coat he wore was of fashionable English cut. + +"Oh, Lavinia, look, look! It is coming right on to the end of the pier," +cried Ann Preen. + +"Hush, Nancy, don't excite yourself," said Miss Lavinia, in lowered +tones. "It will take care not to do that." + +The gentleman gave a wary glance at them. He saw two ladies dressed +alike, in handsome black velvet mantles, and bonnets with violet +feathers; by which he judged them to be sisters, though there was no +resemblance in face. The elder had clear-cut features, a healthy colour, +dark brown hair, worn plain, and a keen, sensible expression. The other +was fair, with blue eyes and light ringlets. + +"Pardon me," he said, turning to them, and his accent was that of a +gentleman. "May I offer you the use of my glasses?" + +"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Nancy, in a light tone bordering on a giggle; +and she accepted the glasses. She was evidently pleased with the offer +and with the stranger. + +Lavinia, on the contrary, was not. The moment she saw his full face +she shrank from it--shrank from him. The feeling might have been as +unaccountable as that which came over her when she had been first +entering the Petite Maison Rouge; but it was there. However, she put it +from her, and thanked him. + +"I don't think I see so well with the glasses as without them; it seems +all a mist," remarked Nancy, who was standing next the stranger. + +"They are not properly focused for you. Allow me," said he, as he took +the glasses from her to alter them. "Young eyes need a less powerful +focus than elderly ones like mine." + +He spoke in a laughing tone; Nancy, fond of compliments, giggled +outright this time. She was approaching forty; he might have been ten +years older. They continued standing there, watching the fishing-boat, +and exchanging remarks at intervals. When it had made the harbour +without accident, the Miss Preens wished him good-morning, and went back +down the pier; he took off his hat to them, and walked the other way. + +"What a _charming_ man!" exclaimed Nancy, when they were at a safe +distance. + +"I don't like him," dissented Lavinia. + +"Not like him!" echoed the other in surprise. "Why, Lavinia, his manners +are delightful. I wonder who he is?" + +When nearly home, in turning into the Place Ronde, they met an English +lady of their acquaintance, the wife of Major Smith. She had been +ordering a dozen of vin Picardin from the Maison Rouge. As they stood +talking together, the gentleman of the pier passed up the Rue de Tessin. +He lifted his hat, and they all, including Mrs. Smith, bowed. + +"Do you know him?" quickly asked Nancy, in a whisper. + +"Hardly that," answered Mrs. Smith. "When we were passing the Hôtel des +Princes this morning, a gentleman turned out of the courtyard, and he +and my husband spoke to one another. The major said to me afterwards +that he had formerly been in the--I forget which--regiment. He called +him Mr. Fennel." + +Now, as ill-fortune had it, Miss Preen found herself very poorly after +she got home. She began to sneeze and cough, and thought she must have +taken cold through standing on the pier to watch the vagaries of the +fishing-smack. + +"I hope you are not going to have the influenza!" cried Nancy, her blue +eyes wide with concern. + +But the influenza it proved to be. Miss Preen seemed about to have it +badly, and lay in bed the next day. Nancy proposed to send Flore for +Monsieur Dupuis, but Lavinia said she knew how to treat herself as well +as he could treat her. + +The next day she was no better. Poor Nancy had to go out alone, or to +stay indoors. She did not like doing the latter at all; it was too dull; +her own inclination would have led her abroad all day long and every +day. + +"I saw Captain Fennel on the pier again," said she to her sister that +afternoon, when she was making the tea at Lavinia's bedside, Flore +having carried up the tray. + +"I hope you did not talk to him, Ann," spoke the invalid, as well as she +could articulate. + +"I talked a little," said Nancy, turning hot, conscious that she had +gossiped with him for three-quarters-of-an-hour. "He stopped to speak to +me; I could not walk on rudely." + +"Any way, don't talk to him again, my dear. I do not like that man." + +"What is there to dislike in him, Lavinia?" + +"That I can't say. His countenance is not a good one; it is shifty and +deceitful. He is a man you could never trust." + +"I'm sure I've heard you say the same of other people." + +"Because I can read faces," returned Lavinia. + +"Oh--well--I consider Captain Fennel's is a _handsome_ face," debated +Nancy. + +"Why do you call him 'Captain'?" + +"He calls himself so," answered Nancy. "I suppose it was his rank in the +army when he retired. They retain it afterwards by courtesy, don't they, +Lavinia?" + +"I am not sure. It depends upon whether they retire in rotation or sell +out, I fancy. Mrs. Smith said the major called him Mr. Fennel, and he +ought to know. There, I can't talk any more, Nancy, and the man is +nothing to us, that we need discuss him." + +La grippe had taken rather sharp hold of Lavinia Preen, and she was +upstairs for ten days. On the first afternoon she went down to the +salon, Captain Fennel called, very much to her surprise; and, also to +her surprise, he and Nancy appeared to be pretty intimate. + +In point of fact, they had met every day, generally upon the pier. Nancy +had said nothing about it at home. She was neither sly nor deceitful +in disposition; rather notably simple and unsophisticated; but, after +Lavinia's reproof the first time she told about meeting him, she would +not tell again. + +Miss Preen behaved coolly to him; which he would not appear to see. She +sat over the fire, wrapped in a shawl, for it was a cold afternoon. He +stayed only a little time, and put his card down on the slab near the +stairs when he left. Lavinia had it brought to her. + +"Mr. Edwin Fennel." + +"Then he is not Captain Fennel," she observed. "But, Nancy, what in the +world could have induced the man to call here? And how is it you seem to +be familiar with him?" + +"I have met him out-of-doors, sometimes, while you were ill," said +Nancy. "As to his calling here--he came, I suppose, out of politeness. +There's no harm in it, Lavinia." + +Miss Lavinia did not say there was. But she disliked the man too much to +favour his acquaintanceship. Instinct warned her against him. + +How little was she prepared for what was to follow! Before she was well +out-of-doors again, before she had been anywhere except to church, Nancy +gave her a shock. With no end of simperings and blushings, she confessed +that she had been asked to marry Captain Fennel. + +Had Miss Lavinia Preen been herself politely asked to marry a certain +gentleman popularly supposed to reside underground, she would not have +been much more indignantly startled. Perhaps "frightened" would be the +better word for it. + +"But--you _would_ not, Nancy!" she gasped, when she found her voice. + +"I don't know," simpered foolish Nancy. "I--I--think him very nice and +gentlemanly, Lavinia." + +Lavinia came out of her fright sufficiently to reason. She strove to +show Nancy how utterly unwise such a step would be. They knew nothing +of Captain Fennel or his antecedents; to become his wife might just be +courting misery and destruction. Nancy ceased to argue; and Lavinia +hoped she had yielded. + +Both sisters kept a diary. But for that fact, and also that the diaries +were preserved, Featherston could not have arrived at the details of the +story so perfectly. About this time, a trifle earlier or later, Ann +Preen wrote as follows in hers: + +"_April 16th._--I met Captain Fennel on the pier again this morning. I +do _think_ he goes there because he knows he may meet me. Lavinia is not +out yet; she has not quite got rid of that Grip, as they stupidly call +it here. I'm sure it has gripped _her_. We walked quite to the end of +the pier, and then I sat down on the edge for a little while, and he +stood talking to me. I do wish I could tell Lavinia of these meetings; +but she was so cross the first day I met him, and told her of it, that I +don't like to. Captain Fennel lent me his glasses as usual, and I looked +at the London steamer, which was coming in. Somehow we fell to talking +of the Smiths; he said they were poor, had not much more than the +major's half-pay. 'Not like you rich people, Miss Nancy,' he said--he +thinks that's my right name. 'Your income is different from theirs.' +'Oh,' I screamed out, 'why, it's only a hundred and forty pounds +a-year!' 'Well,' he answered, smiling, 'that's a comfortable sum for +a place like this; five francs will buy as much at Sainteville as +half-a-sovereign will in England.' Which is pretty nearly true." + +Skipping a few entries of little importance, we come to another: + +"_May 1st_, and such a lovely day!--It reminds me of one May-day at +home, when the Jacks-in-the-green were dancing on the grass-plot before +the Court windows at Buttermead, and Mrs. Selby sat watching them, as +pleased as they were, saying she should like to dance, too, if she +could only go first to the mill to be ground young again. Jane and Edith +Peckham were spending the day with us. It was just such a day as this, +warm and bright; light, fleecy clouds flitting across the blue sky. I +wish Lavinia were out to enjoy it! but she is hardly strong enough for +long walks yet, and only potters about, when she does get out, in the +Rue des Arbres or the Grande Place, or perhaps over to see Mary Carimon. + +"I don't know what to do. I lay awake all last night, and sat moping +yesterday, thinking what I _could_ do. Edwin wants me to marry him; I +told Lavinia, and she absolutely forbids it, saying I should rush upon +misery. _He_ says I should be happy as the day's long. I feel like a +distracted lunatic, not knowing which of them is right, or which opinion +I ought to yield to. I have obeyed Lavinia all my life; we have never +had a difference before; her wishes have been mine, and mine have been +hers. But I _can't_ see why she need have taken up this prejudice +against him, for I'm sure he's more like an angel than a man; and, as he +whispers to me, Nancy Fennel would be a prettier name than Nancy Preen. +I said to him to-day, 'My name is Ann, not really Nancy.' 'My dear,' he +answered, 'I shall always call you Nancy; I love the simple name.' + +"I no longer talk about him to Lavinia, or let her suspect that we still +meet on the pier. It would make her angry, and I can't bear that. I dare +not hint to her what Edwin said to-day--that he should take matters into +his own hands. He means to go over to Dover, _viâ_ Calais; stay at Dover +a fortnight, as the marriage law requires, and then come back to fetch +me; and after the marriage has taken place we shall return here to live. + +"Oh dear, what am I to do? It will be a _dreadful_ thing to deceive +Lavinia; and it will be equally dreadful to lose _him_. He declares that +if I do not agree to this he shall set sail for India (where he used to +be with his regiment), and never, never see me again. Good gracious! +_never_ to see me again! + +"The worst is, he wants to go off to Dover at once, giving one no time +for consideration! Must I say Yes, or No? The uncertainty shakes me to +pieces. He laughed to-day when I said something of this, assuring me +Lavinia's anger would pass away like a summer cloud when I was his wife; +that sisters had no authority over one another, and that Lavinia's +opposition arose from selfishness only, because she did not want to lose +me. '_Risk it_, Nancy,' said he; 'she will receive you with open arms +when I bring you back from Dover.' If I could only think so! Now and +then I feel inclined to confide my dilemma to Mary Carimon, and ask her +opinion, only that I fear she might tell Lavinia." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Edwin Fennel quitted Sainteville. When he was missed people thought +he might have gone for good. But one Saturday morning some time onwards, +when the month of May was drawing towards its close, Miss Lavinia, out +with Nancy at market, came full upon Captain Fennel in the crowd on the +Grande Place. He held out his hand. + +"I thought you had left Sainteville, Mr. Fennel," she remarked, meeting +his hand and the sinister look in his face unwillingly. + +"Got back this morning," he said; "travelled by night. Shall be leaving +again to-day or to-morrow. How are _you_, Miss Nancy?" + +Lavinia pushed her way to the nearest poultry stall. "Will you come +here, Ann?" she said. "I want to choose a fowl." + +She began to bargain, half in French, half in English, with the poultry +man, all to get rid of that other man, and she looked round, expecting +Nancy had followed her. Nancy had not stirred from the spot near the +butter-baskets: she and Captain Fennel had their heads together, he +talking hard and fast. + +They saw Lavinia looking at them; looking angry, too. "Remember," +impressively whispered Captain Fennel to Nancy: and, lifting his hat to +Lavinia, over the white caps of the market-women, he disappeared across +the Place. + +"I wonder what that man has come back for?" cried Miss Preen, as Nancy +reached her--not that she had any suspicion. "And I wonder you should +stay talking with him, Nancy!" + +Nancy did not answer. + +Sending Flore--who had attended them with her market-basket--home with +the fowl and eggs and vegetables, they called at the butcher's and the +grocer's, and then went home themselves. Miss Preen then remembered +that she had forgotten one or two things, and must go out again. Nancy +remained at home. When Lavinia returned, which was not for an hour, for +she had met various friends and stayed to gossip, her sister was in +her room. Flore thought Mademoiselle Nancy was setting her drawers to +rights: she had heard her opening and shutting them. + +Time went on until the afternoon. Just before five o'clock, when Flore +came into lay the cloth for dinner, Lavinia, sitting at the window, saw +her sister leave the house and cross the yard, a good-sized paper parcel +in her hand. + +"Why, that is Miss Nancy," she exclaimed, in much surprise. "Where can +she be going to now?" + +"Miss Nancy came down the stairs as I was coming in here," replied +Flore. "She said to me that she had just time to run to Madame Carimon's +before dinner." + +"Hardly," dissented Miss Lavinia. "What can she be going for?" + +As five o'clock struck, Flore (always punctual, from self-interest) came +in to ask if she should serve the fish; but was told to wait until Miss +Nancy returned. When half-past five was at hand, and Nancy had not +appeared, Miss Preen ordered the fish in, remarking that Madame Carimon +must be keeping her sister to dinner. + +Afterwards Miss Preen set out for the casino, expecting she should meet +them both there; for Lavinia and Nancy had intended to go. Madame +Carimon was not a subscriber, but she sometimes paid her ten sous and +went in. It would be quite a pretty sight to-night--a children's dance. +Lavinia soon joined some friends there, but the others did not come. + +At eight o'clock she was in the Rue Pomme Cuite, approaching Madame +Carimon's. Pauline, in her short woollen petticoats, and shoeless feet +thrust into wooden sabots, was splashing buckets of water before the +door to scrub the pavement, and keeping up a screaming chatter with the +other servants in the street, who were doing the same, Saturday-night +fashion. + +Madame Carimon was in the salon, sitting idle in the fading light; her +sewing lay on the table. Lavinia's eyes went round the room, but she saw +no one else in it. + +"Mary, where is Nancy?" she asked, as Madame Carimon rose to greet her +with outstretched hands. + +"I'm sure I don't know," answered Madame Carimon lightly. "She has not +been here. Did you think she had?" + +"She dined here--did she not?" + +"What, Nancy? Oh no! I and Jules dined alone. He is out now, giving a +French lesson. I have not seen Nancy since--let me see--since Thursday, +I think; the day before yesterday." + +Lavinia Preen sat down, half-bewildered. She related the history of the +evening. + +"It is elsewhere that Nancy is gone," remarked Madame Carimon. "Flore +must have misunderstood her." + +Concluding that to be the case, and that Nancy might already be at +home, Lavinia returned at once to the Petite Maison Rouge, Mary Carimon +bearing her company in the sweet summer twilight. Lavinia opened the +door with her latch-key. Flore had departed long before. There were +three latch-keys to the house, Nancy possessing one of them. + +They looked into every room, and called out "Nancy! Nancy!" But she was +not there. + +Nancy Preen had gone off with Captain Fennel by the six-o'clock train, +en route for Dover, there to be converted into Mrs. Fennel. + +And had Nancy foreseen the terrible events and final crime which this +most disastrous step would bring about, she might have chosen, rather +than take it, to run away to the Protestant cemetery outside the gates +of Sainteville, there to lay herself down to die. + + +IV. + +"Where _can_ Nancy be?" + +Miss Preen spoke these words to Mary Carimon in a sort of flurry. After +letting themselves into the house, the Petite Maison Rouge, and calling +up and down it in vain for Nancy, the question as to where she could be +naturally arose. + +"She must be spending the evening with the friends she stayed to dine +with," said Madame Carimon. + +"I don't know where she would be likely to stay. Unless--yes--perhaps +at Mrs. Hardy's." + +"That must be it, Lavinia," pronounced Madame Carimon. + +It was then getting towards nine o'clock. They set out again for Mrs. +Hardy's to escort Nancy home. She lived in the Rue Lothaire; a long +street, leading to the railway-station. + +Mrs. Hardy was an elderly lady. When near her door they saw her +grand-nephew, Charles Palliser, turn out of it. Charley was a +good-hearted young fellow, the son of a rich merchant in London. He +was staying at Sainteville for the purpose of acquiring the art of +speaking French as a native. + +"Looking for Miss Ann Preen!" cried he, as they explained in a word or +two. "No, she is not at our house; has not been there. I saw her going +off this evening by the six-o'clock train." + +"Going off by the six-o'clock train!" echoed Miss Lavinia, staring at +him. "Why, what do you mean, Mr. Charles? My sister has not gone off by +any train." + +"It was in this way," answered the young man, too polite to flatly +contradict a lady. "Mrs. Hardy's cousin, Louise Soubitez, came to town +this morning; she spent the day with us, and after dinner I went to see +her off by the train. And there, at the station, was Miss Ann Preen." + +"But not going away by train," returned Miss Lavinia. + +"Why, yes, she was. I watched the train out of the station. She and +Louise Soubitez sat in the same compartment." + +A smile stole to Charles Palliser's face. In truth, he was amused at +Miss Lavinia's consternation. It suddenly struck her that the young man +was joking. + +"Did you speak to Ann, Mr. Charles?" + +"Oh yes; just a few words. There was not time for much conversation; +Louise was late." + +Miss Preen felt a little shaken. + +"Was Ann alone?" + +"No; she was with Captain Fennel." + +And, with that, a suspicion of the truth, and the full horror of it, +dawned upon Lavinia Preen. She grasped Madame Carimon's arm and turned +white as death. + +"It never can be," she whispered, her lips trembling: "it never can be! +She cannot have--have--run away--with that man!" + +Unconsciously perhaps to herself, her eyes were fixed on Charles. He +thought the question was put to him, and answered it. + +"Well--I--I'm afraid it looks like it, as she seems to have said nothing +to you," he slowly said. "But I give you my word, Miss Preen, that until +this moment that aspect of the matter never suggested itself to me. I +supposed they were just going up the line together for some purpose or +other; though, in fact, I hardly thought about it at all." + +"And perhaps that is all the mystery!" interposed Madame Carimon +briskly. "He may have taken Ann to Drecques for a little jaunt, and they +will be back again by the last train. It must be almost due, Lavinia." + +With one impulse they turned to the station, which was near at hand. +Drecques, a village, was the first place the trains stopped at on the +up-line. The passengers were already issuing from the gate. Standing +aside until all had passed, and not seeing Nancy anywhere, Charley +Palliser looked into the omnibuses. But she was not there. + +"They may have intended to come back and missed the train, Miss Preen; +it's very easy to miss a train," said he in his good nature. + +"I think it must be so, Lavinia," spoke up Madame Carimon. "Any way, +we will assume it until we hear to the contrary. And, Charley, we had +better not talk of this to-night." + +"_I_ won't," answered Charley earnestly. "You may be sure of me." + +Unless Captain Fennel and Miss Ann Preen chartered a balloon, there was +little probability of their reaching Sainteville that evening, for this +had been the last train. Lavinia Preen passed a night of discomfort, +striving to hope against hope, as the saying runs. Not a very wise +saying; it might run better, striving to hope against despair. + +When Sunday did not bring back the truants, or any news of them, the +three in the secret--Mary Carimon, Lavinia, and Charley Palliser--had +little doubt that the disappearance meant an elopement. Monsieur Jules +Carimon, not easily understanding such an escapade, so little in +accordance with the customs and manners of his own country, said in his +wife's ear he hoped it would turn out that there was a marriage in the +case. + +Miss Preen received a letter from Dover pretty early in the week, +written by Ann. She had been married that day to Captain Fennel. + +Altogether, the matter was the most bitter blow ever yet dealt to +Lavinia Preen. No living being knew, or ever would know, how cruelly her +heart was wrung by it. But, being a kindly woman of good sound sense, +she saw that the best must be made of it, not the worst; and this she +set herself out to do. She began by hoping that her own instinct, +warning her against Captain Fennel, might be a mistaken one, and that he +had a good home to offer his wife and would make her happy in it. + +She knew no more about him--his family, his fortune, his former life, +his antecedents--than she knew of the man in the moon. Major Smith +perhaps did; he had been acquainted with him in the past. Nancy's +letter, though written the previous day, had been delivered by the +afternoon post. As soon as she could get dinner over, Lavinia went to +Major Smith's. He lived at the top of the Rue Lambeau, a street turning +out of the Grande Place. He and his wife, their own dinner just removed, +were sitting together, the major indulging in a steaming glass of +schiedam and water, flavoured with a slice of lemon. He was a very jolly +little man, with rosy cheeks and a bald head. They welcomed Miss Lavinia +warmly. She, not quite as composed as usual, opened her business without +preamble; her sister Ann had married Captain Fennel, and she had come to +ask Major Smith what he knew of him. + +"Not very much," answered the major. + +There was something behind his tone, and Lavinia burst into tears. +Compassionating her distress, the major offered her a comforting glass, +similar to his own. Lavinia declined it. + +"You will tell me what you know," she said; and he proceeded to do so. + +Edwin Fennel, the son of Colonel Fennel, was stationed in India with +his regiment for several years. He got on well enough, but was not +much liked by his brother officers: they thought him unscrupulous and +deceitful. All at once, something very disagreeable occurred, which +obliged Captain Fennel to quit her Majesty's service. The affair was +hushed up, out of consideration to his family and his father's long term +of service. "In fact, I believe he was allowed to retire, instead of +being cashiered," added the major, "but I am not quite sure which it +was." + +"What was it that occurred--that Captain Fennel did, to necessitate his +dismissal?" questioned Lavinia. + +"I don't much like to mention it," said the major, shaking his head. +"It might get about, you see, Miss Preen, which would make it awkward +for him. I have no wish, or right either, to do the man a gratuitous +injury." + +"I promise you it shall not get about through me," returned Lavinia; "my +sister's being his wife will be the best guarantee for that. You must +please tell me, Major Smith." + +"Well, Fennel was suspected--detected, in short--of cheating at cards." + +Lavinia drew a deep breath. "Do you know," she said presently, in an +undertone, "that when I first met the man I shrank from his face." + +"Oh my! And it has such nice features!" put in Mrs. Smith, who was but +a silly little woman. + +"There was something in its shifty look which spoke to me as a warning," +continued Lavinia. "It did, indeed. All my life I have been able to read +faces, and my first instinct has rarely, if ever, deceived me. Each +time I have seen this man since, that instinct against him has become +stronger." + +Major Smith took a sip at his schiedam. "I believe--between +ourselves--he is just a mauvais sujet," said he. "He has a brother who +is one, out and out; as I chance to know." + +"What is Edwin Fennel's income, major?" + +"I can't tell at all. I should not be surprised to hear that he has +none." + +"How does he live then?" asked Lavinia, her heart going at a gallop. + +"Don't know that either," said the major. "His father is dead now and +can't help him. A very respectable man, the old colonel, but always +poor." + +"He cannot live upon air; he must have some means," debated Lavinia. + +"Lives upon his wits, perhaps; some men do. He wanted to borrow ten +pounds from me a short time ago," added the major, taking another sip +at his tumbler; "but I told him I had no money to lend--which was a +fact. I have an idea that he got it out of Charley Palliser." + +The more Lavinia Preen heard of this unhappy case, the worse it seemed +to be. Declining to stay for tea, as Mrs. Smith wished, she betook her +miserable steps home again, rather wishing that the sea would swallow up +Captain Fennel. + +The next day she saw Charles Palliser. Pouncing upon him as he was +airing his long legs in the Grande Place, she put the question to him +in so determined a way that Charley had no chance against her. He +turned red. + +"I don't know who can have set that about," said he. "But it's true, +Miss Preen. Fennel pressed me to lend him ten pounds for a month; and +I--well, I did it. I happened to have it in my pocket, you see, having +just cashed a remittance from my father." + +"Has he repaid you, Mr. Charles?" + +"Oh, the month's not quite up yet," cried Charley. "Please don't talk +of it, Miss Preen; he wouldn't like it, you know. How on earth it has +slipped out I can't imagine." + +"No, I shall not talk of it," said Lavinia, as she wished him good-day +and walked onwards, wondering what sort of a home Captain Fennel meant +to provide for Ann. + +Lavinia Preen's cup of sorrow was not yet full. A morning or two after +this she was seated at breakfast with the window open, when she saw the +postman come striding across the yard with a letter. It was from the +bride; a very short letter, and one that Miss Lavinia did not at once +understand. She read it again. + + "MY DEAR LAVINIA, + + "All being well, we shall be home to-morrow; that is, on the day you + receive this letter; reaching Sainteville by the last train in the + evening. Please get something nice and substantial for tea, Edwin + says, and please see that Flore has the bedroom in good order. + + "Your affectionate sister, + "ANN FENNEL." + +The thing that Miss Lavinia did, when comprehension came to her, was to +fly into a passion. + +"Come home here--_he!_--is that what she means?" cried she. "Never. Have +that man in my house? Never, never." + +"But what has mademoiselle received?" exclaimed Flore, appearing just +then with a boiled egg. "Is it bad news?" + +"It is news that I will not put up with--will not tolerate," cried Miss +Lavinia. And, in the moment's dismay, she told the woman what it was. + +"Tiens!" commented Flore, taking a common-sense view of matters: +"they must be coming just to show themselves to mademoiselle on their +marriage. Likely enough they will not stay more than a night or two, +while looking out for an apartment." + +Lavinia did not believe it; but the very suggestion somewhat soothed +her. To receive that man even for a night or two, as Flore put it, would +be to her most repugnant, cruel pain, and she resolved not to do it. +Breakfast over, she carried the letter and her trouble to the Rue Pomme +Cuite. + +"But I am afraid, Lavinia, you cannot refuse to receive them," spoke +Madame Carimon, after considering the problem. + +"Not refuse to receive them!" echoed Lavinia. "Why do you say that?" + +"Well," replied Mary Carimon uneasily, for she disliked to add to +trouble, "you see the house is as much Ann's as yours. It was taken +in your joint names. Ann has the right to return to it; and also, I +suppose"--more dubiously--"to introduce her husband into it." + +"Is that French law?" + +"I think so. I'll ask Jules when he comes home to dinner. Would it not +be English law also, Lavinia?" + +Lavinia was feeling wretchedly uncomfortable. With all her plain +common-sense, this phase of the matter had not struck her. + +"Mary," said she--and there stopped, for she was seized with a violent +shivering, which seemed difficult to be accounted for. "Mary, if that +man has to take up his abode in the house, I can never remain in it. I +would rather die." + +"Look here, dear friend," whispered Mary: "life is full of trouble--as +Job tells us in the Holy Scriptures--none of us are exempt from it. It +attacks us all in turn. The only one thing we can do is to strive to +make the best of it, under God; to ask Him to help us. I am afraid +there is a severe cross before you, Lavinia; better _bear_ it than fight +against it." + +"I will never bear _that_," retorted Lavinia, turning a deaf ear in her +anger. "You ought not to wish me to do so." + +"And I would not if I saw anything better for you." + +Madame Veuve Sauvage, sitting as usual at her front-window that same +morning, was surprised at receiving an early call from her tenant, Miss +Preen. Madame handed her into her best crimson velvet fauteuil, and they +began talking. + +Not to much purpose, however; for neither very well understood what the +other said. Lavinia tried to explain the object of her visit, but found +her French was not equal to it. Madame called her maid, Mariette, and +sent her into the shop below to ask Monsieur Gustave to be good enough +to step up. + +Lavinia had gone to beg of them to cancel the agreement for the little +house, so far as her sister was concerned, and to place it in her name +only. + +Monsieur Gustave, when he had mastered the request, politely answered +that such a thing was not practicable; Miss Ann's name could not be +struck out of the lease without her consent, or, as he expressed it, +breaking the bail. His mother and himself had every disposition to +oblige Miss Preen in any way, as indeed she must know, but they had no +power to act against the law. + +So poor Miss Lavinia went into her home wringing her hands in despair. +She was perfectly helpless. + + +V. + +The summer days went on. Mr. Edwin Fennel, with all the impudence in the +world, had taken up his abode in the Petite Maison Rouge, without saying +with your leave or by your leave. + +"How could you _think_ of bringing him here, Ann?" Lavinia demanded of +her sister in the first days. + +"I did not think of it; it was he thought of it," returned Mrs. Fennel +in her simple way. "I feared you would not like it, Lavinia; but what +could I do? He seemed to look upon it as a matter of course that he +should come." + +Yes, there he was; "a matter of course;" making one in the home. Lavinia +could not show fight; he was Ann's husband, and the place was as much +Ann's as hers. The more Lavinia saw of him the more she disliked him; +which was perhaps unreasonable, since he made himself agreeable to her +in social intercourse, though he took care to have things his own way. +If Lavinia's will went one way in the house and his the other, she found +herself smilingly set at naught. Ann was his willing slave; and when +opinions differed she sided with her husband. + +It was no light charge, having a third person in the house to live upon +their small income, especially one who studied his appetite. For a very +short time Lavinia, in her indignation at affairs generally, turned the +housekeeping over to Mrs. Fennel. But she had to take to it again. Ann +was naturally an incautious manager; she ordered in delicacies to please +her husband's palate without regard to cost, and nothing could have come +of that but debt and disaster. + +That the gallant ex-Captain Fennel had married Ann Preen just to +have a roof over his head, Lavinia felt as sure of as that the moon +occasionally shone in the heavens. She did not suppose he had any other +refuge in the wide world. And through something told her by Ann she +judged that he had believed he was doing better for himself in marrying +than he had done. + +The day after the marriage Mr. and Mrs. Fennel were sitting on a bench +at Dover, romantically gazing at the sea, honeymoon fashion, and talking +of course of hearts and darts. Suddenly the bridegroom turned his +thoughts to more practical things. + +"Nancy, how do you receive your money--half-yearly or quarterly?" asked +he. + +"Oh, quarterly," said Nancy. "It is paid punctually to us by the +acting-trustee, Colonel Selby." + +"Ah, yes. Then you have thirty-five pounds every quarter?" + +"Between us, we do," assented Nancy. "Lavinia has seventeen pounds ten, +and I have the same; and the colonel makes us each give a receipt for +our own share." + +Captain Fennel turned his head and gazed at her with a hard stare. + +"You told me your income was a hundred and forty pounds a-year." + +"Yes, it is that exactly," said she quietly; "mine and Lavinia's +together. We do not each have that, Edwin; I never meant to imply----" + +Mrs. Fennel broke off, frightened. On the captain's face, cruel enough +just then, there sat an expression which she might have thought +diabolical had it been any one else's face. Any way, it scared her. + +"What is it?" she gasped. + +Rising rapidly, Captain Fennel walked forward, caught up some pebbles, +flung them from him and waited, apparently watching to see where they +fell. Then he strolled back again. + +"Were you angry with me?" faltered Nancy. "Had I done anything?" + +"My dear, what should you have done? Angry?" repeated he, in a light +tone, as if intensely amused. "You must not take up fancies, Mrs. +Fennel." + +"I suppose Mrs. Selby thought it would be sufficient income for us, both +living together," remarked Nancy. "If either of us should die it all +lapses to the other. We found it quite enough last year, I assure you, +Edwin; Sainteville is so cheap a place." + +"Oh, delightfully cheap!" agreed the captain. + +It was this conversation that Nancy repeated to Lavinia; but she did not +speak of the queer look which had frightened her. Lavinia saw that Mr. +Edwin Fennel had taken up a wrong idea of their income. Of course the +disappointment angered him. + +An aspect of semi-courtesy was outwardly maintained in the intercourse +of home life. Lavinia was a gentlewoman; she had not spoken unpleasant +things to the captain's face, or hinted that he was a weight upon the +housekeeping pocket; whilst he, as yet, was quite officiously civil to +her. But there was no love lost between them; and Lavinia could not +divest her mind of an undercurrent of conviction that he was, in some +way or other, a man to be dreaded. + +Thus Captain Fennel (as he was mostly called), being domiciled with the +estimable ladies in the Petite Maison Rouge, grew to be considered one +of the English colony of Sainteville, and was received as such. As +nobody knew aught against him, nobody thought anything. Major Smith had +not spoken of antecedents, neither had Miss Preen; the Carimons, who +were in the secret, never spoke ill of any one: and as the captain could +assume pleasing manners at will, he became fairly well liked by his +country-people in a passing sort of way. + +Lavinia Preen sat one day upon the low edge of the pier, her back to the +sun and the sea. She had called in at the little shoe-shop on the port, +just as you turn out of the Rue Tessin, and had left her parasol there. +The sun was not then out in the grey sky, and she did not miss it. Now +that the sun was shining, and the grey canopy above had become blue, she +said to herself that she had been stupid. It was September weather, so +the sun was not unbearable. + +Lavinia Preen was thinner; the thraldom of the past three months had +made her so. Now and then it would cross her mind to leave the Petite +Maison Rouge to its married inmates; but for Nancy's sake she hesitated. +Nancy had made the one love of her life, and Nancy had loved her in +return. Now, the love was chiefly given to the new tie she had formed; +Lavinia was second in every respect. + +"They go their way now, and I have to go mine," sighed Lavinia, as she +sat this morning on the pier. "Even my walks have to be solitary." + +A cloud came sailing up and the sun went in again. Lavinia rose; she +walked onwards till she came to the end of the pier, where she again sat +down. The next moment, chancing to look the way she had come, she saw a +lady and gentleman advancing arm-in-arm. + +"Oh, _they_ are on the pier, are they!" mentally spoke Lavinia. For it +was Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Fennel. + +Nancy sat down beside her. "It is a long walk!" cried she, drawing a +quick breath or two. "Lavinia, what do you think we have just heard?" + +"How can I tell?" returned the elder sister. + +"You know those queer people, an old English aunt and three nieces, who +took Madame Gibon's rooms in the Rue Ménar? They have all disappeared +and have paid nobody," continued Nancy. "Charley Palliser told us just +how; he was laughing like anything over it." + +"I never thought they looked like people to be trusted," remarked +Lavinia. "Dear me! here's the sun coming out again." + +"Where is your parasol?" + +Lavinia recounted her negligence in having left it at the shoe-mart. +Captain Fennel had brought out a small silk umbrella; he turned from the +end of the pier, where he stood looking out to sea, opened the umbrella, +and offered it. + +"It is not much larger than a good-sized parasol," remarked he. "Pray +take it, Miss Lavinia." + +Lavinia did so after a moment's imperceptible hesitation, and thanked +him. She hated to be under the slightest obligation to him, but the sun +was now full in her eyes, and might make her head ache. + +The pleasant smell of a cigar caused them to look up. A youngish man, +rather remarkably tall, with a shepherd's plaid across his broad +shoulders, was striding up the pier. He sat down near Miss Preen, and +she glanced round at him. Appearing to think that she looked at his +cigar, he immediately threw it into the sea behind him. + +"Oh, I am sorry you did that," said Lavinia, speaking impulsively. "I +like the smell of a cigar." + +"Oh, thank you; thank you very much," he answered. "I had nearly smoked +it out." + +Voice and manner were alike pleasant and easy, and Lavinia spoke +again--some trivial remark about the fine expanse of sea; upon which +they drifted into conversation. We are reserved enough with strangers +at home, we Islanders, as the world knows, but most of us are less +ungracious abroad. + +"Sainteville seems a clean, healthy place," remarked the new-comer. + +"Very," said Miss Lavinia. "Do you know it well?" + +"I never saw it before to-day," he replied. "I have come here from Douai +to meet a friend, having two or three days to spare." + +"Douai is a fine town," remarked Captain Fennel, turning to speak, for +he was still looking out over the sea, and had his opera-glasses in his +hand. "I spent a week there not long ago." + +"Douai!" exclaimed Nancy. "That's the place where the great Law Courts +are, is it not? Don't you remember the man last year, Lavinia, who +committed some dreadful crime, and was taken up to Douai to be tried at +the Assizes there?" + +"We have a great case coming on there as soon as the Courts meet," said +the stranger, who seemed a talkative man; "and that's what I am at Douai +for. A case of extensive swindling." + +"You are a lawyer, I presume?" said Miss Preen. + +The stranger nodded. "Being the only one of our London firm who can +speak French readily, and we are four of us in it, I had to come over +and watch this affair and wait for the trial. For the young fellow is +an Englishman, I am sorry to say, and his people, worthy and well-to-do +merchants, are nearly mad over it." + +"But did he commit it in England?" cried Miss Preen. + +"Oh no; in France, within the arrondissement of the Douai Courts. He is +in prison there. I dare say you get some swindling in a petty way even +at Sainteville," added the speaker. + +"That we do," put in Nancy. "An English family of ladies ran away only +yesterday, owing twenty pounds at least, it is said." + +"Ah," said the stranger, with a smile. "I think the ladies are sometimes +more clever at that game than the men. By the way," he went on briskly, +"do you know a Mr. Dangerfield at Sainteville?" + +"No," replied Lavinia. + +"He is staying here, I believe, or has been." + +"Not that I know of," said Lavinia. "I never heard his name." + +"Changed it again, probably," carelessly observed the young man. + +"Is Dangerfield not his true name, then?" + +"Just as much as it is mine, madam. His real name is Fennel; but he has +found it convenient to drop that on occasion." + +Now it was a curious fact that Nancy did not hear the name which the +stranger had given as the true one. Her attention was diverted by some +men who were working at the mud in the harbour, for it was low water, +and who were loudly disputing together. Nancy had moved to the side of +the pier to look down at them. + +"Is he a swindler, that Mr. Dangerfield?" asked she, half-turning her +head to speak. But the stranger did not answer. + +As to Lavinia, the avowal had struck her speechless. She glanced at +Captain Fennel. He had his back to them, and stood immovable, apparently +unconcerned, possibly not having heard. A thought struck her--and +frightened her. + +"Do you know that Mr. Dangerfield yourself?" she asked the stranger, in +a tone of indifference. + +"No, I do not," he said; "but there's a man coming over in yonder boat +who does." + +He pointed over his shoulder at the sea as he spoke. Lavinia glanced +quickly in the same direction. + +"In yonder boat?" she repeated vaguely. + +"I mean the London boat, which is on its way here, and will get in this +evening," he explained. + +"Oh, of course," said Lavinia, as if her wits had been wool-gathering. + +The young man took out his watch and looked at it. Then he rose, lifted +his hat, and, with a general good-morning, walked quickly down the pier. + +Nancy was still at the side of the pier, looking down at the men. +Captain Fennel put up his glasses and sat down beside Lavinia, his +impassive face still as usual. + +"I wonder who that man is?" he cried, watching the footsteps of the +retreating stranger. + +"Did you hear what he said?" asked Lavinia, dropping her voice. + +"Yes. Had Nancy not been here, I should have given him a taste of my +mind; but she hates even the semblance of a quarrel. He had no right to +say what he did." + +"What could it have meant?" murmured Lavinia. + +"It meant my brother, I expect," said Captain Fennel savagely, and, as +Lavinia thought, with every appearance of truth. "But he has never been +at Sainteville, so far as I know; the fellow is mistaken in that." + +"Does he pass under the name of Dangerfield?" + +"Possibly. This is the first I've heard of it. He is an extravagant man, +often in embarrassment from debt. There's nothing worse against him." + +He did not say more; neither did Lavinia. They sat on in silence. The +tall figure in the Scotch plaid disappeared from sight; the men in the +harbour kept on disputing. + +"How long are you going to stay here?" asked Nancy, turning towards her +husband. + +"I'm ready to go now," he answered. And giving his arm to Nancy, they +walked down the pier together. + +Never a word to Lavinia; never a question put by him or by Nancy, if +only to say, "Are you not coming with us?" It was ever so now. Nancy, +absorbed in her husband, neglected her sister. + +Lavinia sighed. She sat on a little while longer, and then took her +departure. + +The shoe-shop on the port was opposite the place in the harbour where +the London steamers were generally moored. The one now there was +taking in cargo. As Lavinia was turning into the shop for her parasol, +she heard a stentorian English voice call out to a man who was +superintending the work in his shirt-sleeves: "At what hour does this +boat leave to-night?" + +"At eight o'clock, sir," was the answer. "Eight sharp; we want to get +away with the first o' the tide." + + +_From Miss Lavinia Preen's Diary._ + +_September 22nd._--The town clocks have just struck eight, and I could +almost fancy that I hear the faint sound of the boat steaming down the +harbour in the dark night, carrying Nancy away with it, and carrying +_him_. However, that is fancy and nothing else, for the sound could not +penetrate to me here. + +Perhaps it surprised me, perhaps it did not, when Nancy came to me this +afternoon as I was sitting in my bedroom reading Scott's "Legend of +Montrose," which Mary Carimon had lent me from her little stock of +English books, and said she and Captain Fennel were going to London that +night by the boat. He had received a letter, he told her, calling him +thither. He might tell Nancy that if he liked, but it would not do +for me. He is going, I can only believe, in consequence of what that +gentleman in the shepherd's plaid said on the pier to-day. Can it be +that the "Mr. Dangerfield" spoken of applies to Edwin Fennel himself and +not to his brother? Is he finding himself in some dangerous strait, and +is running away from the individual coming over in the approaching boat, +who personally knows Mr. Dangerfield? "Can you lend me a five-pound +note, Lavinia?" Nancy went on, when she had told me the news; "lend it +to myself, I mean. I will repay you when I receive my next quarter's +income, which is due, you know, in a few days." I chanced to have a +five-pound note by me in my own private store, and I gave it her, +reminding her that unless she did let me have it again, it would be so +much less in hand to meet expenses with, and that I had found difficulty +enough in the past quarter. "On the other hand," said Nancy, "if I and +Edwin stay away a week or two, you will be spared our housekeeping; and +when our money comes, Lavinia, you can open my letter and repay yourself +if I am not here. I don't at all know where we are going to stay," she +said, in answer to my question. "I was beginning to ask Edwin just now +in the other room, but he was busy packing his portmanteau, and told me +not to bother him." + +And so, there it is: they are gone, and I am left here all alone. + +I wonder whether any Mr. Dangerfield has been at Sainteville? I think we +should have heard the name. Why, that is the door-bell! I must go and +answer it. + +It was Charley Palliser. He had come with a message from Major and +Mrs. Smith. They are going to Drecques to-morrow morning by the +eleven-o'clock train with a few friends and a basket of provisions, +and had sent Charley to say they would be glad of my company. "Do +come, Miss Preen," urged Charley as I hesitated; "you are all alone +now, and I'm sure it must be dreadfully dull." + +"How do you know I am alone?" I asked. + +"Because," said Charley, "I have been watching the London boat out, and +I saw Captain Fennel and your sister go by it. Major and Mrs. Smith were +with me. It is a lovely night." + +"Wait a moment," I said, as Charley was about to depart when I had +accepted the invitation. "Do you know whether an Englishman named +Dangerfield is living here?" + +"Don't think there is; I have not met with him," said Charley. "Why, +Miss Preen?" + +"Oh, only that I was asked to-day whether I knew any one of that name," +I returned carelessly. "Good-night, Mr. Charles. Thank you for coming." + +They have invited me, finding I was left alone, and I think it very kind +of them. But the Smiths are both kind-hearted people. + +_September 23rd._--Half-past nine o'clock, p.m. Have just returned from +Drecques by the last train after spending a pleasant day. Quiet, of +course, for there is not much to do at Drecques except stroll over the +ruins of the old castle, or saunter about the quaint little ancient +town, and go into the grand old church. It was so fine and warm that we +had dinner on the grass, the people at the cottage bringing our plates +and knives and forks. Later in the day we took tea indoors. In the +afternoon, when all the rest were scattered about and the major sat +smoking his cigar on the bench under the trees, I sat down by him to +tell him what happened yesterday, and I begged him to give me his +opinion. It was no betrayal of confidence, for Major Smith is better +acquainted with the shady side of the Fennels than I am. + +"I heard there was an English lawyer staying at the Hôtel des Princes, +and that he had come here from Douai," observed the major. "His name's +Lockett. It must have been he who spoke to you on the pier." + +"Yes, of course. Do you know, major, whether any one has stayed at +Sainteville passing as Mr. Dangerfield?" + +"I don't think so," replied the major. "Unless he has kept himself +remarkably quiet." + +"Could it apply to Captain Fennel?" + +"I never knew that he had gone under an assumed name. The accusation is +one more likely to apply to his brother than to himself. James Fennel is +unscrupulous, very incautious: notwithstanding that, I like him better +than I like the other. There's something about Edwin Fennel that repels +you; at least, it does me; but one can hardly help liking James, mauvais +sujet though he is," added the speaker, pausing to flirt off the ashes +of his cigar. + +"The doubt pointing to Edwin Fennel in the affair is his suddenly +decamping," continued Major Smith. "It was quite impromptu, you say, +Miss Preen?" + +"Quite so. I feel sure he had no thought of going away in the morning; +and he did not receive any letter from England later, which was the +excuse he gave Nancy for departing. Rely upon it that what he heard +about the Mr. Dangerfield on the pier drove him away." + +"Well, that looks suspicious, you see." + +"Oh yes, I do see it," I answered, unable to conceal the pain I felt. +"It was a bitter calamity, Major Smith, when Nancy married him." + +"I'll make a few cautious inquiries in the town, and try to find out if +there's anything against him in secret, or if any man named Dangerfield +has been in the place and got into a mess. But, indeed, I don't +altogether see that it could apply to him," concluded the major after a +pause. "One can't well go under two names in the same town; and every +one knows him as Edwin Fennel.--Here they are, some of them, coming +back!" And when the wanderers were close up, they found Major Smith +arguing with me about the architecture of the castle. + +Ten o'clock. Time for bed. I am in no haste to go, for I don't sleep as +well as I used to. + +A thought has lately sometimes crossed me that this miserable trouble +worries me more than it ought to do. "Accept it as your cross, and +_yield_ to it, Lavinia," says Mary Carimon to me. But I _cannot_ yield +to it; that is, I cannot in the least diminish the anxiety which always +clings to me, or forget the distress and dread that lie upon me like a +shadow. I know that my life has been on the whole an easy life--that +during all the years I spent at Selby Court I never had any trouble; I +know that crosses do come to us all, earlier or later, and that I ought +not to be surprised that "no new thing has happened to me," the world +being full of such experiences. I suppose it is because I have been so +exempt from care, that I feel this the more. + +Half-past ten! just half-an-hour writing these last few lines and +_thinking_! Time I put up. I wonder when I shall hear from Nancy? + + +VI. + +A curious phase, taken in conjunction with what was to follow, now +occurred in the history. Miss Preen began to experience a nervous dread +at going into the Petite Maison Rouge at night. + +She could go into the house ten times a-day when it was empty; she could +stay in the house alone in the evening after Flore took her departure; +she could be its only inmate all night long; and never at these times +have the slightest sense of fear. But if she went out to spend the +evening, she felt an unaccountable dread, amounting to horror, at +entering it when she arrived home. + +It came on suddenly. One evening when Lavinia had been at Mrs. Hardy's, +Charley Palliser having run over to London, she returned home a little +before ten o'clock. Opening the door with her latch-key, she was +stepping into the passage when a sharp horror of entering it seized her. +A dread, as it seemed to her, of going into the empty house, up the +long, dark, narrow passage. It was the same sort of sensation that had +struck her the first time she attempted to enter it under the escort of +Monsieur Gustave Sauvage, and it came on now with as little reason as it +had come on then. For Lavinia this night had not a thought in her mind +of fear or loneliness, or anything else unpleasant. Mrs. Hardy had been +relating a laughable adventure that Charley Palliser met with on board +the boat when going over, the account of which he had written to her, +and Lavinia was thinking brightly of it all the way home. She was +smiling to herself as she unlatched the door and opened it. And then, +without warning, arose the horrible fear. + +How she conquered it sufficiently to enter the passage and reach the +slab, where her candle and matches were always placed, she did not know. +It had to be done, for Lavinia Preen could not remain in the dark yard +all night, or patrol the streets; but her face had turned moist, and her +hands trembled. + +That was the beginning of it. Never since had she come home in the +same way at night but the same terror assailed her; and I must beg the +reader to understand that this is no invention. Devoid of reason and +unaccountable though the terror was, Lavinia Preen experienced it. + +She went out often--two or three times a-week, perhaps--either to dine +or to spend the evening. Captain Fennel and Nancy were still away, and +friends, remembering Miss Preen's solitary position, invited her. + +October had passed, November was passing, and as yet no news came to +Lavinia of the return of the travellers. At first they did not write to +her at all, leaving her to infer that as the boat reached London safely +they had done the same. After the lapse of a fortnight she received a +short letter from Nancy telling her really nothing, and not giving any +address. The next letter came towards the end of November, and was as +follows: + + "MY DEAR LAVINIA, + + "I have not written to you, for, truly, there is nothing to write + about, and almost every day I expect Edwin to tell me we are going + home. Will you _kindly_ lend me a ten-pound note? Please send it in + a letter. We are staying at Camberwell, and I enclose you the + address in strict confidence. Do not repeat it to any one--not even + to Mary Carimon. It is a relation of Edwin's we are staying with, + but he is not well off. I like his wife. Edwin desires his best + regards. + + "Your loving sister, + "NANCY." + +Miss Preen did not send the ten-pound note. She wrote to tell Nancy that +she could not do it, and was uncomfortably pressed for money herself in +consequence of Nancy's own action. + +The five-pound note borrowed from Lavinia by Nancy on her departure had +not been repaid; neither had Nancy's share of the previous quarter's +money been remitted. On the usual day of payment at the end of +September, Lavinia's quarterly income came to her at Sainteville, as was +customary; not Nancy's. For Nancy there came neither money nor letter. +The fact was, Nancy, escorted by her husband, had presented herself +at Colonel Selby's bank--he was junior partner and manager of a small +private bank in the City--the day before the dividends were due, and +personally claimed the quarterly payment, which was paid to her. + +But now, the summary docking of just half their income was a matter +of embarrassment to Miss Preen, as may readily be imagined. The house +expenses had to go on, with only half the money to meet them. Lavinia +had a little nest-egg of her own, it has been said before, saved in +earlier years; and this she drew upon, and so kept debt down. But it was +very inconvenient, as well as vexatious. Lavinia told the whole truth +now to Mary Carimon and her husband, with Nancy's recent application for +a ten-pound note, and her refusal. Little Monsieur Carimon muttered a +word between his closed lips which sounded like "Rat," and was no doubt +applied to Edwin Fennel. + +Pretty close upon this, Lavinia received a blowing-up letter from +Colonel Selby. Having known Lavinia when she was in pinafores, the +colonel, a peppery man, considered he had a right to take her to task at +will. He was brother to Paul Selby, of Selby Court, and heir presumptive +to it. The colonel had a wife and children, and much ado at times to +keep them, for his income was not large at present, and growing-up sons +are expensive. + + "DEAR LAVINIA, + + "What in the name of common sense could have induced you to imagine + that I should pay the two quarterly incomes some weeks before they + were due, and to send Ann and that man Fennel here with your orders + that I should do so? Pretty ideas of trusteeship you must have! If + you are over head and ears in debt, as they tell me, and for that + reason wish to forestall the time for payment, _I_ can't help it. It + is no reason with me. Your money will be forwarded to Sainteville, + at the proper period, to _yourself_. Do not ask me again to pay it + into Ann's hands, and to accept her receipt for it. I can do nothing + of the kind. Ann's share will be sent at the same time. She tells me + she is returning to you. She must give me her own receipt for it, + and you must give me yours. + + "Your affectionate kinsman, + "WILLIAM SELBY." + +Just for a few minutes Lavinia Preen did not understand this letter. +What could it mean? Why had Colonel Selby written it to her? Then the +truth flashed into her mind. + +Nancy (induced, of course, by Edwin Fennel) had gone with him to Colonel +Selby, purporting to have been sent by Lavinia, to ask him to pay them +the quarter's money not due until the end of December, and not only +Nancy's share but Lavinia's as well. + +"Why, it would have been nothing short of swindling!" cried Lavinia, as +she gazed in dismay at the colonel's letter. + +In the indignation of the moment, she took pen and ink and wrote an +answer to William Selby. Partly enlightening him--not quite--but telling +him that her money must never be paid to any one but herself, and that +the present matter had better be hushed up for Ann's sake, who was as a +reed in the hands of the man she had married. + +Colonel Selby exploded a little when he received this answer. Down he +sat in his turn, and wrote a short, sharp note to Edwin Fennel, giving +that estimable man a little of his mind, and warning him that he must +not be surprised if the police were advised to look after him. + +When Edward Fennel received this decisive note through an address he had +given to Colonel Selby, but not the one at Camberwell, he called Miss +Lavinia Preen all the laudatory names in the thieves' dictionary. + +And on the feast of St. Andrew, which as every one knows is the last day +of November, the letters came to an end with the following one from +Nancy: + + "All being well, my dear Lavinia, we propose to return home by next + Sunday's boat, which ought to get in before three o'clock in the + afternoon. On Wednesday, Edwin met Charley Palliser in the Strand, + and had a chat with him, and heard all the Sainteville news; not + that there seemed much to hear. Charley says he runs over to London + pretty often now, his mother being ill. Of course you will not mind + waiting dinner for us on Sunday. + + "Ever your loving sister, + "ANN." + +So at length they were coming! Either that threat of being looked after +by the police had been too much for Captain Fennel, or the failure to +obtain funds was cutting short his stay in London. Any way, they were +coming. Lavinia laid the letter beside her breakfast-plate and fell into +thought. She resolved to welcome them graciously, and to say nothing +about bygones. + +Flore was told the news, and warned that instead of dining at half-past +one on the morrow, the usual Sunday hour, it would be delayed until +three. Flore did not much like the prospect of her afternoon's holiday +being shortened, but there was no help for it. Lavinia provided a couple +of ducks for dinner, going into the market after breakfast to buy them; +the dish was an especial favourite of the captain's. She invited Mary +Carimon to partake of it, for Monsieur Carimon was going to spend Sunday +at Lille with an old friend of his, who was now master of the college +there. + +On this evening, Saturday, Lavinia dined out herself. Some ladies named +Bosanquet, three sisters, with whom she had become pretty intimate, +called at the Petite Maison Rouge, and carried her off to their home in +the Rue Lamartine, where they had lived for years. After a very pleasant +evening with them, Lavinia left at ten o'clock. + +And when she reached her own door, and was putting the latch-key into +the lock, the old fear came over her. Dropping her hands, she stood +there trembling. She looked round at the silent, deserted yard, she +looked up at the high encircling walls; she glanced at the frosty sky +and the bright stars; and she stood there shivering. + +But she must go in. Throwing the door back with an effort of will, she +turned sick and faint: to enter that dark, lonely, empty house seemed +beyond her strength and courage. What could this strange feeling +portend?--why should it thus attack her? It was just as if some fatality +were in the house waiting to destroy her, and a subtle power would keep +her from entering it. + +Her heart beating wildly, her breath laboured, Lavinia went in; she shut +the door behind her and sped up the passage. Feeling for the match-box +on the slab, put ready to her hand, she struck a match and lighted the +candle. At that moment, when turning round, she saw, or thought she saw, +Captain Fennel. He was standing just within the front-door, which she +had now come in at, staring at her with a fixed gaze, and with the most +malignant expression on his usually impassive face. Lavinia's terror +partly gave place to astonishment. Was it he himself? How had he come +in? + +Turning to take the candle from the slab in her bewilderment, when she +looked again he was gone. What had become of him? Lavinia called to him +by name, but he did not answer. She took the candle into the salon, +though feeling sure he could not have come up the passage; but he was +not there. Had he slipped out again? Had she left the door open when +thinking she closed it, and had he followed her in, and was now gone +again? Lavinia carried her lighted candle to the door, and found it was +fastened. She had _not_ left it open. + +Then, as she undressed in her room, trying all the while to solve the +problem, an idea crept into her mind that the appearance might have been +supernatural. Yet--supernatural visitants of the living do not appear to +us, but of the dead. Was Edwin Fennel dead? + +So disturbed was the brain of Lavinia Preen that she could not get to +sleep; but tossed and turned about the bed almost until daybreak. At six +o'clock she fell into an uneasy slumber, and into a most distressing +dream. + +It was a confused dream; nothing in it was clear. All she knew when +she awoke, was that she had appeared to be in a state of inexplicable +terror, of most intense apprehension throughout it, arising from some +evil threatened her by Captain Fennel. + + +VII. + +It was a fine, frosty day, and the first of December. The sun shone on +the fair streets of Sainteville and on the small congregation turning +out of the English Protestant Church after morning service. + +Lavinia Preen went straight home. There she found that Madame Carimon, +who was to spend the rest of the day with her--monsieur having gone to +Lille--had not yet arrived, though the French Church Evangélique was +always over before the English. After glancing at Flore in the kitchen, +busy over the fine ducks, Lavinia set off for the Rue Pomme Cuite. + +She met Mary Carimon turning out of it. "Let us go and sit under the +wall in the sun," said Mary. "It is too early yet for the boat." + +This was a high wall belonging to the strong north gates of the town, +near Madame Carimon's. The sun shone full upon the benches beneath it, +which it sheltered from the bleak winds; in front was a patch of green +grass, on which the children ran about amidst the straight poplar trees. +It was very pleasant sitting there, even on this December day--bright +and cheerful; the wall behind them was quite warm, the sunshine rested +upon all. + +Sitting there, Lavinia Preen told Madame Carimon of the curious dread +of entering her house at night, which had pursued her for the past two +months that she had been alone in it, and which she had never spoken of +to any one before. She went on to speak of the belief that she had seen +Captain Fennel the previous night in the passage, and of the dream +which had visited her when at length she fell asleep. + +Madame Carimon turned her kindly, sensible face and her quiet, dark, +surprised eyes upon Lavinia. "I cannot understand you," she said. + +"You mean, I suppose, that you cannot understand the facts, Mary. +Neither can I. Why this fear of going into the house should lie upon me +is most strange. I never was nervous before." + +"I don't know that that is so very strange," dissented Mary Carimon, +after a pause. "It must seem lonely to let one's self into a dark, empty +house in the middle of the night; and your house is in what may be +called an isolated situation; I should not much like it myself. That's +nothing. What I cannot understand, Lavinia, is the fancy that you saw +Captain Fennel." + +"He appeared to be standing there, and was quite visible to me. The +expression on his face, which seemed to be looking straight into mine, +was most malicious. I never saw such an expression upon it in reality." + +Mary Carimon laughed a little, saying she had never been troubled with +nervous fears herself; she was too practical for anything of the sort. + +"And I have been practical hitherto," returned Lavinia. "When the first +surprise of seeing him there, or fancying I saw him there, was over, I +began to think, Mary, that he might be dead; that it was his apparition +which had stood there looking at me." + +Mary Carimon shook her head. "Had anything of that sort happened, Nancy +would have telegraphed to you. Rely upon it, Lavinia, it was pure +fancy. You have been disagreeably exercised in mind lately, you know, +about that man; hearing he was coming home, your brain was somewhat +thrown off its balance." + +"It may be so. The dream followed on it; and I did not like the dream." + +"We all have bad dreams now and then. You say you do not remember much +of this one." + +"I think I did not know much of it when dreaming it," quaintly spoke +Lavinia. "I was in a sea of trouble, throughout which I seemed to be +striving to escape some evil menaced me by Captain Fennel, and could not +do so. Whichever way I turned, there he was at a distance, scowling at +me with a threatening, evil countenance. Mary," she added in impassioned +tones, "I am sure some ill awaits me from that man." + +"I am sure, were I you, I would put these foolish notions from me," +calmly spoke Madame Carimon. "If Nancy set up a vocation for seeing +ghosts and dreaming dreams, one would not so much wonder at it. _You_ +have always been reasonable, Lavinia; be so now." + +Miss Preen took out her watch and looked at it. "We may as well be +walking towards the port, Mary," she remarked. "It is past two. The boat +ought to be in sight." + +Not only in sight was the steamer, but rapidly nearing the port. She had +made a calm and quick passage. When at length she was in and about to +swing round, and the two ladies were looking down at it, with a small +crowd of other assembled spectators, the first passengers they saw on +board were Nancy and Captain Fennel, who began to wave their hands in +greeting and to nod their heads. + +"Any way, Lavinia, it could not have been his ghost last night," +whispered Mary Carimon. + + * * * * * + +Far from presenting an evil countenance to Lavinia, as the days passed +on, Captain Fennel appeared to wish to please her, and was all suavity. +So at present nothing disturbed the peace of the Petite Maison Rouge. + +"What people were they that you stayed with in London, Nancy?" Lavinia +inquired of her sister on the first favourable opportunity. + +Nancy glanced round the salon before answering, as if to make sure they +were alone; but Captain Fennel had gone out for a stroll. + +"We were at James Fennel's, Lavinia." + +"What--the brother's! And has he a wife?" + +"Yes; a wife, but no children. Mrs. James Fennel has money of her own, +which she receives weekly." + +"Receives weekly!" echoed Lavinia. + +"She owns some little houses which are let out in weekly tenements; +an agent collects the rents, and brings her the money every Tuesday +morning. She dresses in the shabbiest things sometimes, and does her own +housework, and altogether is not what I should call quite a lady, but +she is very good-hearted. She did her best to make us comfortable, +and never grumbled at our staying so long. I expect Edwin paid her +something. James only came home by fits and starts. I think he was in +some embarrassment--debt, you know. He used to dash into the house like +a whirlwind when he did come, and steal out of it when he left, peering +about on all sides." + +"Have they a nice house?" asked Lavinia. + +"Oh, good gracious, no! It's not a house at all, only small lodgings. +And Mrs. James changed them twice over whilst we were there. When we +first went they were at a place called Ball's Pond." + +"Why did you remain all that time?" + +Mrs. Edwin Fennel shook her head helplessly; she could not answer the +question. "I should have liked to come back before," she said; "it was +very wearisome, knowing nobody and having nothing to do. Did you find it +dull here, Lavinia, all by yourself?" + +"'Dull' is not the right word for it," answered Lavinia, catching her +breath with a sigh. "I felt more lonely, Ann, than I shall ever care +to feel again. Especially when I had to come home at night from some +soirée, or from spending the evening quietly with Mary Carimon or any +other friend." And she went on to tell of the feeling of terror which +had so tried her. + +"I never heard of such a thing!" exclaimed Ann. "How silly you must be, +Lavinia! What could there have been in the house to frighten you?" + +"I don't know; I wish I did know," sighed Lavinia, just as she had said +more than once before. + +Nancy, who was attired in a bright ruby cashmere robe, with a gold chain +and locket, some blue ribbons adorning her light ringlets, for she had +made a point of dressing more youthfully than ever since her marriage, +leaned back in her chair, as she sat staring at her sister and thinking. + +"Lavinia," she said huskily, "you remember the feeling you had the +day we were about to look at the house with Mary Carimon, and which +you thought was through the darkness of the passage striking you +unpleasantly? Well, my opinion is that it must have given you a scare." + +"Why, of course it did." + +"Ah, but I mean a scare which lasts," said Ann; "one of those scares +which affect the mind and take very long to get rid of. You recollect +poor Mrs. Hunt, at Buttermead? She was frightened at a violent +thunderstorm, though she never had been before; and for years +afterwards, whenever it thundered, she became so alarmingly ill and +agitated that Mr. Featherston had to be run for. He called it a scare. +I think the fear you felt that past day must have left that sort of +scare upon you. How else can you account for what you tell me?" + +Truth to say, the same idea had more than once struck Lavinia. She knew +how devoid of reason some of these "scares" are, and yet how terribly +they disturb the mind on which they fasten. + +"But I had quite forgotten that fear, Ann," she urged in reply. "We had +lived in the house eighteen months when you went away, and I had never +recalled it." + +"All the same, I think you received the scare; it had only lain +dormant," persisted Ann. + +"Well, well; you are back again now, and it is over," said Lavinia. "Let +us forget it. Do not speak of it again at all to any one, Nancy love." + + +VIII. + +Winter that year had quite set in when Sainteville found itself honoured +with rather a remarkable visitor; one Signor Talcke, who descended, one +morning at the beginning of December, at the Hôtel des Princes. Though +he called himself "Signor," it seemed uncertain to what country he +owed his birth. He spoke five or six languages as a native, including +Hindustani. Signor Talcke was a professor of occult sciences; he was +a great astronomer; astrology he had at his fingers' ends. He was a +powerful mesmerist; he would foretell the events of your life by your +hands, or your fortune by the cards. + +For a fee of twenty-five francs, he would attend an evening party, and +exhibit some of his powers. Amidst others who engaged him were the Miss +Bosanquets, in the Rue Lamartine. A relative of theirs, Sir George +Bosanquet, K.C.B., had come over with his wife to spend Christmas with +them. Sir George laughed at what he heard of Signor Talcke's powers of +reading the future, and said he should much like to witness a specimen +of it. So Miss Bosanquet and her sisters hastily arranged an evening +entertainment, engaged the mystical man, and invited their friends and +acquaintances, those of the Petite Maison Rouge included. + +It took place on the Friday after Christmas-Day. Something that occurred +during the evening was rather remarkable. Miss Preen's diary gives a +full account of it, and that shall be transcribed here. And I, Johnny +Ludlow, take this opportunity of assuring the reader that what she +wrote was in faithful accordance with the facts of the case. + + +_From Miss Preen's Diary._ + +_Saturday morning._--I feel very tired; fit for nothing. Nancy has +undertaken to do the marketing, and is gone out for that purpose with +her husband. It is to be hoped she will be moderate, and not attempt to +buy up half the market. + +I lay awake all night, after the evening at Miss Bosanquet's, thinking +how foolish Ann was to have had her "future cast," as that Italian +(if he is Italian) called it, and how worse than foolish I was to let +what he said worry me. "As if there could be anything in it!" laughed +Ann, as we were coming home; fortunately she is not as I am in +temperament--nervously anxious. "It is only nonsense," said Miss Anna +Bosanquet to me when the signor's predictions were at an end; "he will +tell some one else just the same next time." But _I_ did not think +so. Of course, one is at a loss how to trust this kind of man. Take +him for all in all, I rather like him; and he appears to believe +implicitly in what he says: or, rather, in what he tell us the cards +say. + +They are charming women, these three sisters--Grace, Rose, and Anna +Bosanquet; good, considerate, high-bred ladies. I wonder how it is they +have lived to middle life without any one of them marrying? And I often +wonder how they came to take up their residence at Sainteville, for they +are very well off, and have great connections. I remember, though, Anna +once said to me that the dry, pure air of the place suited her sister +Rose, who has bad health, better than any other they had tried. + +When seven o'clock struck, the hour named, Nancy and I appeared together +in the sitting-room, ready to start, for we observe punctuality at +Sainteville. I wore my black satin, handsome yet, trimmed with the rich +white lace that Mrs. Selby gave me. Nancy looked very nice and young in +her lilac silk. She wore a white rose in her hair, and her gold chain +and locket round her neck. Captain Fennel surprised us by saying he was +not going--his neuralgia had come on. I fancied it was an excuse--that +he did not wish to meet Sir George Bosanquet. He had complained of the +same thing on Christmas-Day, so it might be true. Ann and I set off +together, leaving him nursing his cheek at the table. + +It was a large gathering for Sainteville--forty guests, I should think; +but the rooms are large. Professor Talcke exhibited some wonderful feats +in--what shall I call it?--necromancy?--as good a word, perhaps, as any +other. He mesmerized some people, and put one of them into a state of +clairvoyance, and her revelations took my breath away. Signor Talcke +assured us that what she said would be found minutely true. I think he +has the strangest eyes I ever saw: grey eyes, with a sort of light in +their depths. His features are fair and delicate, his voice is gentle as +a woman's, his manner retiring; Sir George seemed much taken with him. + +Later, when the evening was passing, he asked if any one present would +like to have their future cast, for he had cards which would do it. +Three of his listeners pressed forward at once; two of them with gay +laughter, the other pale and awestruck. The signor went into the recess +in the small room, and sat down behind the little table there, and as +many as could crowd round to look on, did so. I don't know what passed; +there was no room for me; or whether the "Futures" he disclosed were +good or bad. I had sat on the sofa at a distance, talking with Anna +Bosanquet and Madame Carimon. + +Suddenly, as we were for a moment silent, Ann's voice was heard, eager +and laughing: + +"Will you tell my fortune, Signor Talcke? I should like to have mine +revealed." + +"With pleasure, madame," he answered. + +We got up and drew near. I felt vexed that Ann should put herself +forward in any such matter, and whispered to her; but she only shook her +curls, laughed at me, and persisted. Signor Talcke put the cards in her +hands, telling her to shuffle them. + +"It is all fun, Lavinia," she whispered to me. "Did you hear him tell +Miss Peet she was going to have money left her?" + +After Ann had shuffled the cards, he made her cut them into three +divisions, and he then turned them up on the table himself, faces +upwards, and laid them out in three rows. They were not like the cards +we play with; quite different from those; nearly all were picture-cards, +and the plain ones bore cabalistic characters. We stood looking on with +two or three other people; the rest had dispersed, and had gone into the +next room to listen to the singing. + +At first Signor Talcke never spoke a word. He looked at the cards, and +looked at Nancy; looked, and looked again. "They are not propitious," he +said in low tones, and picked them up, and asked Nancy to shuffle and +cut them again. Then he laid them as before, and we stood waiting in +silence. + +Chancing at that moment to look at Signor Talcke, his face startled me. +He was frowning at the cards in so painful a manner as to quite alter +its expression. But he did not speak. He still only gazed at the cards +with bent eyes, and glanced up at Ann occasionally. Then, with an +impatient sweep of the hand, he pushed the cards together. + +"I must trouble you to shuffle and cut them once more, madame," he said. +"Shuffle them well." + +"Are they still unpropitious?" asked a jesting voice at my elbow. +Turning, I saw Charley Palliser's smiling face. He must have been +standing there, and heard Signor Talcke's previous remark. + +"Yes, sir, they are," replied the signor, with marked emphasis. "I never +saw the cards so unpropitious in my life." + +Nancy took up the cards, shuffled them well, and cut them three times. +Signor Talcke laid them out as before, bent his head, and looked +attentively at them. He did not speak, but there was no mistaking the +vexed, pained, and puzzled look on his face. + +I do not think he knew Nancy, even by name. I do not think he knew me, +or had the least notion that we were related. Neither of us had ever met +him before. He put his hand to his brow, still gazing at the cards. + +"But when are you going to begin my fortune, sir?" broke in Nancy. + +"I would rather not tell it at all, madame," he answered. + +"_Cannot_ you tell it?--have your powers of forecasting inconveniently +run away?" said she incautiously, her tone mocking in her +disappointment. + +"I could tell it, all too surely; but you might not like to hear it," +returned he. + +"Our magician has lost his divining-rod just when he needed it," +observed a gentleman with a grey beard, a stranger to me, who was +standing opposite, speaking in a tone of ill-natured satire; and a laugh +went round. + +"It is not that," said the signor, keeping his temper perfectly. "I +could tell what the cards say, all too certainly; but it would not give +satisfaction." + +"Oh yes, it would," returned Nancy. "I should like to hear it, every bit +of it. Please do begin." + +"The cards are dark, very dark indeed," he said; "I don't remember ever +to have seen them like it. Each time they have been turned the darkness +has increased. _Nothing_ can show worse than they do now." + +"Never mind that," gaily returned Ann. "You undertook to tell my +fortune, sir; and you ought not to make excuses in the middle of it. +Let the cards be as dark as night, we must hear what they say." + +He drew in his thin lips for a moment, and then spoke, his tone quiet, +calm, unemotional. + +"Some great evil threatens you," he began; "you seem to be living in +the midst of it. It is not only you that it threatens; there is another +also----" + +"Oh, my goodness!" interrupted Nancy, in her childish way. "I hope it +does not threaten Edwin. What _is_ the evil?--sickness?" + +"Worse than that. It--is----" Signor Talcke's attention was so absorbed +by the aspect of the cards that, as it struck me, he appeared hardly to +heed what he was saying. He had a long, thin black pencil in his long, +thin fingers, and kept pointing to different cards as if in accordance +with his thoughts, but not touching them. "There is some peculiar form +of terror here," he went on. "I cannot make it out; it is very unusual. +It does not come close to you; not yet, at any rate; and it seems to +surround you. It seems to be in the house. May I ask"--quickly lifting +his eyes to Ann--"whether you are given to superstitious fears?" + +"Do you mean ghosts?" cried Ann, and Charley Palliser burst out +laughing. "Not at all, sir; I don't believe in ghosts. I'm sure there +are none in our house." + +Remembering my own terror in regard to the house, and the nervous fancy +of having seen Captain Fennel in it when he was miles away, a curious +impression came over me that he must surely be reading my fortune as +well as Nancy's. But I was not prepared for her next words. Truly she +has no more reticence than a child. + +"My sister has a feeling that the house is lonely. She shivers when she +has to go into it after night-fall." + +Signor Talcke let his hands fall on the table, and lifted his face. +Apparently, he was digesting this revelation. I do not think he knew the +"sister" was present. For my part, disliking publicity, I slipped behind +Anna Bosanquet, and stood by Charley Palliser. + +"Shivers?" repeated the Italian. + +"Shivers and trembles, and turns sick at having to go in," affirmed +Nancy. "So she told me when I arrived home from England." + +"If a feeling of that sort assailed me, I should never go into the house +again," said the signor. + +"But how could you help it, if it were your home?" she argued. + +"All the same. I should regard that feeling as a warning against the +house, and never enter it. Then you are not yourself troubled with +superstitious fears?" he broke off, returning to the business in hand, +and looking at the cards. "Well--at present--it does not seem to touch +you, this curious terror which is assuredly in the house----" + +"I beg your pardon," interrupted Ann. "Why do you say 'at present'? Is +it to touch me later?" + +"I cannot say. Each time that the cards have been spread it has +shown itself nearer to you. It is not yet very near. Apart from that +terror--or perhaps remotely connected with it--I see evil threatening +you--great evil." + +"Is it in the house?" + +"Yes; hovering about it. It is not only yourself it seems to threaten. +There is some one else. And it is nearer to that person than it is to +you." + +"But who is that person?--man or woman?" + +"It is a woman. See this ugly card," continued he, pointing with his +pencil; "it will not be got rid of, shuffle as you will; it has come +nearer to that woman each time." + +The card he pointed to was more curious-looking than any other in the +pack. It was not unlike the nine of spades, but crowded with devices. +The gentleman opposite, whom I did not know, leaned forward and touched +the card with the tip of his forefinger. + +"Le cercueil, n'est-ce-pas?" said he. + +"My!" whispered an English lad's voice behind me. "Cercueil? that means +coffin." + +"How did you know?" asked Signor Talcke of the grey-bearded man. + +"I was at the Sous-Préfect's soirée on Sunday evening when you were +exhibiting. I heard you tell him in French that that was the ugliest +card in the pack: indicating death." + +"Well, it is not this lady the card is pursuing," said the signor, +smiling at Ann to reassure her. "Not yet awhile, at least. And we must +all be pursued by it in our turn, whenever that shall come," he added, +bending over the cards again. "Pardon me, madame--may I ask whether +there has not been some unpleasantness in the house concerning money?" + +Nancy's face turned red. "Not--exactly," she answered with hesitation. +"We are like a great many more people--not as rich as we should wish to +be." + +"It does not appear to lie precisely in the want of money: but certainly +money is in some way connected with the evil," he was beginning to say, +his eyes fixed dreamily on the cards, when Ann interrupted him. + +"That is too strong a word--evil. Why do you use it?" + +"I use it because the evil is there. No lighter word would be +appropriate. There is some evil element pervading your house, very +grave and formidable; it is most threatening; likely to go on +to--to--darkness. I mean that it looks as if there would be some great +break-up," he corrected swiftly, as if to soften the other word. + +"That the house would be broken up?" questioned Ann. + +He stole a glance at her. "Something of that sort," he said carelessly. + +"Do you mean that the evil comes from an enemy?" she went on. + +"Assuredly." + +"But we have no enemy. I'm sure we have not one in all the world." + +He slightly shook his head. "You may not suspect it yet, though I should +have said"--waving the pencil thoughtfully over some of the cards--"that +he was already suspected--doubted." + +Nancy took up the personal pronoun briskly. "He!--then the evil enemy +must be a man? I assure you we do not know any man likely to be our +enemy or to wish us harm. No, nor woman either. Perhaps your cards don't +tell true to-night, Signor Talcke?" + +"Perhaps not, madame; we will let it be so if you will," he quietly +said, and shuffled all the cards together. + +That ended the séance. As if determined not to tell any more fortunes, +the signor hurriedly put up the cards and disappeared from the recess. +Nancy did not appear to be in the least impressed. + +"What a curious 'future' it was!" she exclaimed lightly to Mary Carimon. +"I might as well not have had it cast. He told me nothing." + +They walked away together. I went back to the sofa and Anna Bosanquet +followed me. + +"Mrs. Fennel calls it 'curious,'" I said to her. "I call it more than +that--strange; ominous. I wish I had not heard it." + +"Dear Miss Preen, it is only nonsense," she answered. "He will tell some +one else the same next time." But she only so spoke to console me. + +A wild wish flashed into my mind--that I should ask the man to tell +_my_ future. But had I not heard enough? Mine was blended with this of +Ann's. _I_ was the other woman whom the dark fate was more relentlessly +pursuing. There could be no doubt of that. There could be as little +doubt that it was I who already suspected the author of the "evil." What +can the "dark fate" be that we are threatened with? Debt? Will his debts +spring upon us and break up our home, and turn us out of it? Or will it +be something worse? That card which followed me meant a coffin, they +said. Ah me! Perhaps I am foolish to dwell upon such ideas. Certainly +they are more fitting for the world's dark ages than for this +enlightened nineteenth century of it. + +Charley Palliser gallantly offered to see us home. I said no; as if we +were not old enough to go by ourselves; but he would come with us. As we +went along Ann began talking of the party, criticizing the dresses, and +so on. Charley seemed to be unusually silent. + +"Was not mine a grand fortune?" she presently said with a laugh, as we +crossed the Place Ronde. + +"Stunning," said he. + +"As if there could be anything in it, you know! Does the man think we +believe him, I wonder?" + +"Oh, these conjurers like to fancy they impose on us," remarked +Charley, shaking hands as we halted before the house of Madame Sauvage. + +And I have had a wretched night, for somehow the thing has frightened +me. I never was superstitious; never; and I'm sure I never believed in +conjurers, as Charles had it. If I should come across Signor Talcke +again while he stays here, I would ask him---- Here comes Nancy! and +Flore behind her with the marketings. I'll put up my diary. + + * * * * * + +"I've bought such a lovely capon," began Nancy, as Lavinia went into the +kitchen. "Show it to madame, Flore." + +It was one that even Lavinia could praise; they both understood poultry. +"It really is a beauty," said Lavinia. "And did you remember the +salsifis? And, Ann, where have you left your husband?" + +"Oh, we met old Mr. Griffin, and Edwin has gone up to Drecques with him. +My opinion is, Lavinia, that that poor old Griffin dare not go about +far by himself since his attack. He had to see his landlord at Drecques +to-day, and he asked Edwin to accompany him. They went by the +eleven-o'clock train." + +Lavinia felt it a relief. Even that little absence, part of a day, she +felt thankful for, so much had she grown to dislike the presence in the +house of Edwin Fennel. + +"Did you tell your husband about your 'fortune' Nancy?" + +"No; I was too sleepy last night to talk, and I was late in getting up +this morning. I'm not sure that I shall tell him," added Mrs. Fennel +thoughtfully; "he might be angry with me for having had it done." + +"That is more than likely," replied Lavinia. + +Late in the afternoon, as they were sitting together in the salon, they +saw the postman come marching up the yard. He brought two letters--one +for Miss Preen, the other for her sister. + +"It is the remittance from William Selby," said Lavinia as she opened +hers. "He has sent it a day or two earlier than usual; it is not really +due until Monday or Tuesday." + +Seventeen pounds ten shillings each. Nancy, in a hasty sort of manner, +put her cheque into the hands of Lavinia, almost as if she feared it +would burn her own fingers. "You had better take it from me whilst you +can," she said in low tones. + +"Yes; for I must have it, Ann," was the answer. "We are in debt--as you +may readily conceive--with only half the usual amount to spend last +quarter." + +"It was not my fault; I was very sorry," said Ann humbly; and she rose +hastily to go to the kitchen, saying she was thirsty, and wanted a glass +of water. But Lavinia thought she went to avoid being questioned. + +Lavinia carried the two cheques to her room and locked them up. After +their five-o'clock dinner, each sister wrote a note to Colonel Selby, +enclosing her receipt. Flore took them out to post when she left. The +evening passed on. Lavinia worked; Nancy nodded over the fire: she was +very sleepy, and went to bed early. + +It was past eleven o'clock when Captain Fennel came in, a little the +worse for something or other. After returning from Drecques by the last +train, he had gone home with Mr. Griffin to supper. He told Lavinia, +in words running into one another, that the jolting train had made him +giddy. Of course she believed as much of that as she liked, but did not +contradict it. He went to the cupboard in the recess, unlocked it to get +out the cognac, and then sat down with his pipe by the embers of the +dying fire. Lavinia, unasked, brought in a decanter of water, put it on +the table with a glass, and wished him good-night. + +All next day Captain Fennel lay in bed with a racking headache. His wife +carried up a choice bit of the capon when they were dining after morning +service, but he could not so much as look at it. Being a fairly cautious +man as a rule, he had to pay for--for the jolting of the train. + +He was better on Monday morning, but not well, still shaky, and did not +come down to breakfast. It was bitterly cold--a sort of black frost; but +Lavinia, wrapping herself up warmly, went out as soon as breakfast was +over. + +Her first errand was to the bank, where she paid in the cheques and +received French money for them. Then she visited sundry shops; the +butcher's, the grocer's, and others, settling the accounts due. Last of +all, she made a call upon Madame Veuve Sauvage, and paid the rent for +the past quarter. All this left her with exactly nineteen pounds, which +was all the money she had to go on with for every purpose until the end +of March--three whole months. + +Lunch was ready when she returned. Taking off her things upstairs and +locking up her cash, she went down to it. Flore had made some delicious +soupe maigre. Only those who have tried it know how good it is on a +sharp winter's day. Captain Fennel seemed to relish it much, though his +appetite had not quite come back to him, and he turned from the dish of +scrambled eggs which supplemented the soup. In the evening they went, by +appointment, to dine at Madame Carimon's, the other guests being +Monsieur Henri Dupuis with his recently married wife, and Charles +Palliser. + +After dinner, over the coffee, Monsieur Henri Dupuis suddenly spoke of +the soirée at Miss Bosanquet's the previous Friday, regretting that he +and his wife had been unable to attend it. He was engaged the whole +evening with a patient dangerously ill, and his wife did not like to +appear at it without him. Nancy--Nancy!--then began to tell about the +"fortune" which had been forecast for her by Signor Talcke, thinking +possibly that her husband could not reproach her for it before company. +She was very gay over it; a proof that it had left no bad impression on +her mind. + +"What's that, Nancy?" cried Captain Fennel, who had listened as if he +disbelieved his ears. "The fellow told you we had something evil in our +house?" + +"Yes, he did," assented Nancy. "An evil influence, he said, which was +destined to bring forth something dark and dreadful." + +"I am sorry you did not tell this before," returned the captain stiffly. +"I should have requested you not again to allude to such folly. It was +downright insolence." + +"I--you--you were out on Saturday, you know, Edwin, and in bed with your +headache all Sunday; and to-day I forgot it," said Nancy in less brave +tones. + +"Suppose we have a game at wholesome card-playing," interposed Mary +Carimon, bringing forth a new pack. "Open them, will you, Jules? Do +you remember, mon ami, having your fortune told once by a gipsy woman +when we were in Sir John Whitney's coppice with the two Peckham girls? +She told you you would fall into a rich inheritance and marry a +Frenchwoman." + +"Neither of which agreeable promises is yet fulfilled," said little +Monsieur Carimon with his happy smile. Monsieur Carimon had heard the +account of Nancy's "forecast" from his wife; he was not himself present, +but taking a hand at whist in the card-room. + +They sat down to a round game--spin. Monsieur Henri Dupuis and his +pretty young wife had never played it before, but they soon learned +it and liked it much. Both of them spoke English well; she with the +prettiest accent imaginable. Thus the evening passed, and no more +allusion was made to the fortune-telling at Miss Bosanquet's. + +That was Monday. On Tuesday, Miss Preen was dispensing the coffee at +breakfast in the Petite Maison Rouge to her sister and Mr. Fennel, when +Flore came bustling in with a letter in her hand. + +"Tenez, madame," she said, putting it beside Mrs. Fennel. "I laid it +down in the kitchen when the facteur brought it, whilst I was preparing +the déjeûner, and forgot it afterwards." + +Before Nancy could touch the letter, her husband caught it up. He gazed +at the address, at the postmark, and turned it about to look at the +seal. The letters of gentlefolk were generally fastened with a seal in +those days: this had one in transparent bronze wax. + +Mr. Fennel put the letter down with a remark peevishly uttered. "It is +not from London; it is from Buttermead." + +"And from your old friend, Jane Peckham, Nancy," struck in Lavinia. "I +recognize her handwriting." + +"I _am_ glad," exclaimed Nancy. "I have not heard from them for ages. +Why now--is it not odd?--that Madame Carimon should mention the Peckhams +last night, and I receive a letter from them this morning?" + +"I supposed it might be from London, with your remittance," said Mr. +Fennel to his wife. "It is due, is it not?" + +"Oh, that came on Saturday, Edwin," she said, as she opened her letter. + +"Came on Saturday!" echoed Captain Fennel ungraciously, as if disputing +the assertion. + +"By the afternoon post; you were at Drecques, you know." + +"The _money_ came? _Your_ money?" + +"Yes," said Nancy, who had stepped to the window to read her letter, for +it was a dark day, and stood there with her back to the room. + +"And where is it?" demanded he. + +"I gave it to Lavinia. I always give it to her." + +Captain Fennel glared at his wife for a moment, then smoothed his face +to its ordinary placidity, and turned to Lavinia. + +"Will you be good enough to hand over to me my wife's money, Miss +Preen?" + +"No," she answered quietly. + +"I must trouble you to do so, when breakfast shall be finished." + +"I cannot," pursued Lavinia. "I have paid it away." + +"That I do not believe. I claim it from you in right of my wife; and I +shall enforce the claim." + +"The money is Nancy's, not yours," said Lavinia. "In consequence of your +having stopped her share last quarter in London, I was plunged here into +debt and great inconvenience. Yesterday morning I went out to settle the +debts--and it has taken the whole of her money to do it. That is the +state of things, Captain Fennel." + +"I am in debt here myself," retorted he, but not angrily. "I owe money +to my tailor and bootmaker; I owe an account at the chemist's; I want +money in my pockets--and I must indeed have it." + +"Not from me," returned Lavinia. + +Edwin Fennel broke into a little access of temper. He dashed his +serviette on the table, strode to the window, and roughly caught his +wife by the arm. She cried out. + +"How dared you hand your money to any one but me?" he asked in a low +voice of passion. + +"But how are we to live if I don't give it to Lavinia for the +housekeeping?" returned Nancy, bursting into tears. "It takes all we +have; her share and mine; every farthing of it." + +"Let my sister alone, Mr. Fennel," spoke up Lavinia with authority. "She +is responsible for the debts we contract in this house, just as much +as I am, and she must contribute her part to pay them. You ought to be +aware that the expenses are now increased by nearly a third; I assure +you I hardly like to face the difficulties I see before me." + +"Do you suppose I can stop in the place without some loose cash to keep +me going?" he asked calmly. "Is that reasonable, Miss Lavinia?" + +"And do you suppose I can keep you and Ann here without her money to +help me to do it?" she rejoined. "Perhaps the better plan will be for me +to take up my abode elsewhere, and leave the house to you and Ann to do +as you please in it." + +Captain Fennel dropped his argument, returned to the table, and went on +with his breakfast. The last words had startled him. Without Lavinia, +which meant without her money, they could not live in the house at all. + +Matters were partly patched up in the course of the day. Nancy came +upstairs to Lavinia, begging and praying, as if she were praying for her +life, for a little ready money for her husband--just a hundred francs. +Trembling and sobbing, she confessed that she dared not return to him +without it; she should be too frightened at his anger. + +And Lavinia gave it to her. + + +IX. + +Matters went on to the spring. There were no outward differences in the +Petite Maison Rouge, but it was full of an undercurrent of discomfort. +At least for Lavinia. Captain Fennel was simply to her an incubus; and +now and again petty accounts of his would be brought to the door by +tradespeople who wanted them settled. As to keeping up the legitimate +payments, she could not do it. + +March was drawing to an end, when a surprise came to them. Lavinia +received a letter from Paris, written by Colonel Selby. He had been +there for two days on business, he said, and purposed returning viâ +Sainteville, to take a passing glimpse at herself and her sister. He +hoped to be down that afternoon by the three-o'clock train, and he asked +them to meet him at the Hôtel des Princes afterwards, and to stay and +dine with him. He proposed crossing to London by the night boat. + +Lavinia read the letter aloud. Nancy went into ecstasies, for a wonder; +she had been curiously subdued in manner lately. Edwin Fennel made no +remark, but his pale face wore a look of thought. + +During the morning he betook himself to the Rue Lothaire to call upon +Mr. Griffin; and he persuaded that easy-natured old gentleman to take +advantage of the sunny day and make an excursion en voiture to the +nearest town, a place called Pontipette. Of course the captain went +also, as his companion. + +Colonel Selby arrived at three. Lavinia and Nancy met him at the +station, and went with him in the omnibus to the hotel. They then showed +him about Sainteville, to which he was a stranger, took him to see their +domicile, the little red house (which he did not seem to admire), and +thence to Madame Carimon's. In the Buttermead days, the colonel and Mary +Featherston had been great friends. He invited her and her husband to +join them at the table d'hôte dinner at five o'clock. + +Lavinia and Nancy went home again to change their dresses for it. Nancy +put on a pretty light green silk, which had been recently modernized. +Mrs. Selby had kept up an extensive wardrobe, and had left it between +the two sisters. + +"You should wear your gold chain and locket," remarked Lavinia, who +always took pride in her sister's appearance. "It will look very nice +upon that dress." + +She alluded to a short, thick chain of gold, the gold locket attached to +it being set round with pearls, Nancy's best ornament; nay, the only one +she had of any value; it was the one she had worn at Miss Bosanquet's +celebrated party. Nancy made no answer. She was turning red and white. + +"What's the matter?" cried Lavinia. + +The matter was, that Mr. Edwin Fennel had obtained possession of the +chain and locket more than a month ago. Silly Nancy confessed with +trembling lips that she feared he had pledged it. + +Or sold it, thought Lavinia. She felt terribly vexed and indignant. "I +suppose, Ann, it will end in his grasping everything," she said, "and +starving us out of house and home: _myself_, at any rate." + +"He expects money from his brother James, and then he will get it back +for me," twittered Nancy. + +Monsieur Jules Carimon was not able to come to the table d'hôte; his +duties that night would detain him at the college until seven o'clock. +It happened so on occasion. Colonel Selby sat at one end of their party, +Lavinia at the other; Mary Carimon and Nancy between them. A gentleman +was on the other side of Lavinia whom she did not particularly notice; +and, upon his asking the waiter for something, his voice seemed to +strike upon her memory. Turning, she saw that it was the tall Englishman +they had seen on the pier some months before in the shepherd's plaid, +the lawyer named Lockett. He recognized her face at the same moment, and +they entered into conversation. + +"Are you making any stay at Sainteville?" she inquired. + +"For a few days. I must be back in London on Monday morning." + +Colonel Selby's attention was attracted to the speakers. "What, is it +you, Lockett?" he exclaimed. + +Mr. Lockett bent forward to look beyond Lavinia and Madame Carimon. +"Why, colonel, are you here?" he cried. So it was evident that they knew +one another. + +But you can't talk very much across people at a table d'hôte; and +Lavinia and Mr. Lockett were, so to say, left together again. She put a +question to him, dropping her voice to a whisper. + +"Did you ever find that person you were looking for?" + +"The person I was looking for?" repeated the lawyer, not remembering. +"What person was that?" + +"The one you spoke of on the pier that day--a Mr. Dangerfield." + +"Oh, ay; but I was not looking for him myself. No; I believe he is not +dropped upon yet. He is keeping quiet, I expect." + +"Is he still being looked for?" + +"Little doubt of that. My friend here, on my left, could tell you more +about him than I can, if you want to know." + +"No, thank you," said Lavinia hastily, in a sort of fear. And she then +observed that next to Mr. Lockett another Englishman was sitting, who +looked very much like a lawyer also. + +After dinner Colonel Selby took his guests, the three ladies, into the +little salon, which opened to Madame Podevin's bureau; for it was she +who, French fashion, kept the bureau and all its accounts, not her +husband. Whilst the coffee which the colonel ordered was preparing, he +took from his pocket-book two cheques, and gave one each to Lavinia and +Mrs. Fennel. It was their quarterly income, due about a week hence. + +"I thought I might as well give it you now, as I am here, and save the +trouble of sending," he remarked. "You can write me a receipt for it; +here's pen, ink and paper." + +Each wrote her receipt, and gave it him. Nancy held the cheque in her +hand, looking at her sister in a vacillating manner. "I suppose I ought +to give it you, Lavinia," she said. "Must I do so?" + +"What do you think about it yourself?" coldly rejoined Lavinia. + +"He was so very angry with me the last time," sighed Nancy, still +withholding the cheque. "He said I ought to keep possession of my own, +and he ordered me to do so in future." + +"That he may have the pleasure of spending it," said Mary Carimon in a +sharp tone, though she laughed at the same time. "Lavinia has to pay for +the bread-and-cheese that you and he eat, Nancy; how can she do that +unless she receives your money?" + +"Yes, I know; it is very difficult," said poor Nancy. "Take the cheque, +Lavinia; I shall tell him that you and Mary Carimon both said I must +give it up." + +"Oh, tell him I said so, and welcome," spoke Madame Carimon. "I will +tell him so myself, if you like." + +As Colonel Selby returned to the room--he had been seeing to his +luggage--the coffee was brought in, and close upon it came Monsieur +Carimon. + +The boat for London was leaving early that night--eight o'clock; they +all went down to it to see William Selby off. It was a calm night, warm +for the time of year, the moon beautifully bright. After the boat's +departure, Lavinia and Ann went home, and found Captain Fennel there. He +had just got in, he said, and wanted some supper. + +Whilst he was taking it, his wife told him of Mr. Lockett's having +sat by them at the table d'hôte, and that he and Colonel Selby were +acquainted with one another. Captain Fennel drew a grim face at the +information, and asked whether the lawyer had also "cleared out" for +London. + +"I don't think so; I did not see him go on board," said Nancy. "Lavinia +knows; she was talking with Mr. Lockett all dinner-time." + +Captain Fennel turned his impassive face to Lavinia, as if demanding an +answer to his question. + +"Mr. Lockett intends to remain here until Sunday, I fancy; he said he +had to be in London on Monday morning. He has some friend with him here. +I inquired whether they had found the Mr. Dangerfield he spoke of last +autumn," added Lavinia slowly and distinctly. "'Not yet,' he answered, +'but he is still being looked for.'" + +Whether Lavinia said this with a little spice of malice, or whether she +really meant to warn him, she best knew. Captain Fennel finished his +supper in silence. + +"I presume the colonel did not hand you over your quarter's money?" he +next said to his wife in a mocking sort of way. "It is not due for a +week yet; he is not one to pay beforehand." + +Upon which Nancy began to tremble and looked imploringly at her sister, +who was putting the plates together upon the tray. After Flore went home +they had to wait upon themselves. + +"Colonel Selby did hand us the money," said Lavinia. "I hold both +cheques for it." + +Well, there ensued a mild disturbance; what schoolboys might call a +genteel row. Mr. Edwin Fennel insisted upon his wife's cheque being +given to him. Lavinia decisively refused. She went into a bit of a +temper, and told him some home truths. He said he had a right to hold +his wife's money, and should appeal to the law on the morrow to enforce +it. He might do that, Lavinia retorted; no French law would make her +give it up. Nancy began to cry. + +Probably he knew his threats were futile. Instead of appealing to the +law on the morrow, he went off by an early train, carrying Nancy with +him. Lavinia's private opinion was that he thought it safer to take her, +though it did increase the expense, than to leave her; she might get +talking with Mr. Lockett. Ann's eyes were red, as if she had spent the +night in crying. + +"Has he _beaten_ you?" Lavinia inquired, snatching the opportunity of +a private moment. + +"Oh, Lavinia, don't, don't! I shall _never_ dare to let you have the +cheque again," she wailed. + +"Where is it that you are going?" + +"He has not told me," Nancy whispered back again. "To Calais, I think, +or else up to Lille. We are to be away all the week." + +"Until Mr. Lockett and his friend are gone," thought Lavinia. "Nancy, +how can he find money for it?" + +"He has some napoleons in his pocket--borrowed yesterday, I think, from +old Griffin." + +Lavinia understood. Old Griffin, as Nancy styled him, had been careless +of his money since his very slight attack of paralysis; he would freely +lend to any one who asked him. She had not the slightest doubt that +Captain Fennel had borrowed of him--and not for the first time. + +It was on Wednesday morning that they went away, and for the rest of +the week Lavinia was at peace. She changed the cheques at the bank as +before, and paid the outstanding debts. But it left her so little to go +on with, that she really knew not how she should get through the months +until midsummer. + +On Friday two of the Miss Bosanquets called. Hearing she was alone, they +came to ask her to dine with them in the evening. Lavinia did so. But +upon returning home at night, the old horror of going into the house +came on again. Lavinia was in despair; she had hoped it had passed away +for good. + +On Saturday morning at market she met Madame Carimon, who invited her +for the following day, Sunday. Lavinia hesitated. Glad enough indeed +she was at the prospect of being taken out of her solitary home for +a happy day at Mary Carimon's; but she shrank from again risking the +dreadful feeling which would be sure to attack her when going into the +house at night. + +"You must come, Lavinia," cheerily urged Madame Carimon. "I have invited +the English teacher at Madame Deauville's school; she has no friends +here, poor thing." + +"Well, I will come, Mary; thank you," said Lavinia slowly. + +"To be sure you will. Why do you hesitate at all?" + +Lavinia could not say why in the midst of the jostling market-place; +perhaps would not had they been alone. "For one thing, they may be +coming home before to-morrow," observed Lavinia, alluding to Mr. and +Mrs. Fennel. + +"Let them come. You are not obliged to stay at home with them," laughed +Mary. + + +_From the Diary of Miss Preen._ + +_Monday morning._--Well, it is over. The horror of last night is over, +and I have not died of it. That will be considered a strong expression, +should any eye save my own see this diary: but I truly believe the +horror would kill me if I were subjected many more times to it. + +I went to Mary Carimon's after our service was over in the morning, +and we had a pleasant day there. The more I see of Monsieur Jules the +more I esteem and respect him. He is so genuine, so good at heart, so +simple in manner. Miss Perry is very agreeable; not so young as I +had thought--thirty last birthday, she says. Her English is good and +refined, and that is not always the case with the English teachers who +come over to France--the French ladies who engage them cannot judge of +our accent. + +Miss Perry and I left together a little before ten. She wished me +good-night in the Rue Tessin, Madame Deauville's house lying one way, +mine another. The horror began to come over me as I crossed the Place +Ronde, which had never happened before. Stay; not the horror itself, but +the dread of it. An impulse actually crossed me to ring at Madame +Sauvage's, and ask Mariette to accompany me up the entry, and stand at +my open door whilst I went in to light the candle. But I could see no +light in the house, not even in madame's salon, and supposed she and +Mariette might be gone to bed. They are early people on Sundays, and the +two young men have their latch-keys. + +I will try to overcome it this time, I bravely said to myself, and +not allow the fear to keep me halting outside the door as it has done +before. So I took out my latch-key, put it straight into the door, +opened it, went in, and closed it again. Before I had well reached the +top of the passage and felt for the match-box on the slab, I was in a +paroxysm of horror. Something, like an icy wind coming up the passage, +seemed to flutter the candle as I lighted it. Can I have left the door +open? I thought, and turned to look. There stood Edwin Fennel. He stood +just inside the door, which appeared to be shut, and he was looking +straight at me with a threatening, malignant expression on his pale +face. + +"Oh! have you come home to-night?" I exclaimed aloud. For I really +thought it was so. + +The candle continued to flicker quickly as if it meant to go out, +causing me to glance at it. When I looked up again Mr. Fennel was gone. +_It was not himself who had been there; it was only an illusion._ + +Exactly as he had seemed to appear to me the night before he and Nancy +returned from London in December, so he had appeared again, his back to +the door, and the evil menace on his countenance. Did the appearance +come to me as a warning? or was the thing nothing but a delusion of my +own optic nerves? + +I dragged my shaking limbs upstairs, on the verge of screaming at each +step with the fear of what might be behind me, and undressed and went to +bed. For nearly the whole night I could not sleep, and when I did get to +sleep in the morning I was tormented by a distressing dream. All, all as +it had been that other night from three to four months ago. + +A confused dream, no method in it. Several people were about--Nancy for +one; I saw her fair curls. We all seemed to be in grievous discomfort +and distress; whilst I, in worse fear than this world can know, was ever +striving to hide myself from Edwin Fennel, to escape some dreadful fate +which he held in store for me. And I knew I should not escape it. + + +X. + +Like many another active housewife, Madame Carimon was always busy on +Monday mornings. On the one about to be referred to, she had finished +her household duties by eleven o'clock, and then sat down in her little +salle-à-manger, which she also made her workroom, to mend some of +Monsieur Carimon's cotton socks. By her side, on the small work-table, +lay a silver brooch which Miss Perry had inadvertently left behind her +the previous evening. Mary Carimon was considering at what hour she +could most conveniently go out to leave it at Madame Deauville's when +she heard Pauline answer a ring at the door-bell, and Miss Preen came +in. + +"Oh, Lavinia, I am glad to see you. You are an early visitor. Are you +not well?" continued Madame Carimon, noticing the pale, sad face. "Is +anything the matter?" + +"I am in great trouble, Mary; I cannot rest; and I have come to talk +to you about it," said Lavinia, taking the sable boa from her neck and +untying her bonnet-strings. "If things were to continue as they are now, +I should die of it." + +Drawing a chair near to Mary Carimon, Lavinia entered upon her +narrative. She spoke first of general matters. The home discomfort, the +trouble with Captain Fennel regarding Nancy's money, and the difficulty +she had to keep up the indispensable payments to the tradespeople, +expressing her firm belief that in future he would inevitably seize upon +Nancy's portion when it came and confiscate it. Next, she went on to +tell the story of the past night--Sunday: how the old terrible horror +had come upon her of entering the house, of a fancied appearance of +Edwin Fennel in the passage, and of the dream that followed. All this +latter part was but a repetition of what she had told Madame Carimon +three or four months ago. Hearing it for the second time, it impressed +Mary Carimon's imagination. But she did not speak at once. + +"I never in my life saw anything plainer or that looked more life-like +than Captain Fennel, as he stood and gazed at me from the end of the +passage with the evil look on his countenance," resumed Lavinia. "And I +hardly know why I tell you about it again, Mary, except that I have no +one else to speak to. You rather laughed at me the first time, if you +remember; perhaps you will laugh again now." + +"No, no," dissented Mary Carimon. "I did not put faith in it before, +believing you were deceived by the uncertain light in the passage, and +were, perhaps, thinking of him, and that the dream afterwards was merely +the result of your fright; nothing else. But now that you have had a +second experience of it, I don't doubt that you do see this spectre, and +that the dream follows as a sequence to it. And I think," she added, +slowly and emphatically, "that it has come to warn you of some +threatened harm." + +"I seem to see that it has," murmured Lavinia. "Why else should it +come at all? I wish I could picture it to you half vividly enough: the +reality of it and the horror. Mary, I am growing seriously afraid." + +"Were I you, I should get away from the house," said Madame Carimon. +"Leave them to themselves." + +"It is what I mean to do, Mary. I cannot remain in it, apart from this +undefined fear--which of course _may_ be only superstitious fancy," +hastily acknowledged Lavinia. "If things continue in the present +state--and there is no prospect of their changing----" + +"I should leave at once--as soon as they arrive home," rather sharply +interrupted Mary Carimon, who seemed to like the aspect of what she had +heard less and less. + +"As soon as I can make arrangements. They come home to-night; I received +a letter from Nancy this morning. They have been only at Pontipette all +the time." + +"Only at Pontipette!" + +"Nancy says so. It did as well as any other place. Captain Fennel's +motive was to hide away from the lawyers we met at the table d'hôte." + +"Have they left Sainteville, I wonder, those lawyers?" + +"Yes," said Lavinia. "On Friday I met Mr. Lockett when I was going to +the Rue Lamartine, and he told me he was leaving for Calais with his +friend on Saturday morning. It is rather remarkable," she added, after +a pause, "that the first time I saw that appearance in the passage and +dreamed the dream, should have been the eve of Mr. Fennel's return +here, and that it is the same again now." + +"You must leave the house, Lavinia," reiterated Madame Carimon. + +"Let me see," considered Lavinia. "April comes in this week. Next week +will be Passion Week, preceding Easter. I will stay with them over +Easter, and then leave." + +Monsieur Jules Carimon's sock, in process of renovation, had been +allowed to fall upon the mender's lap. She slowly took it up again, +speaking thoughtfully. + +"I should leave at once; before Easter. But you will see how he behaves, +Lavinia. If not well; if he gives you any cause of annoyance, come away +there and then. We will take you in, mind, if you have not found a place +to go to." + +Lavinia thanked her, and rearranged her bonnet preparatory to returning +home. She went out with a heavy heart. Only one poor twelvemonth to have +brought about all this change! + +At the door of the Petite Maison Rouge, when she reached it, stood +Flore, parleying with a slim youth, who held an open paper in his +outstretched hand. Flore was refusing to touch the paper, which was +both printed and written on, and looked official. + +"I tell him that Monsieur le Capitaine is not at home; he can bring it +when he is," explained Flore to her mistress in English. + +Lavinia turned to the young man. "Captain Fennel has been away from +Sainteville for a few days; he probably will be here to-morrow," she +said. "Do you wish to leave this paper for him?" + +"Yes," said the messenger, evidently understanding English but speaking +in French, as he contrived to slip the paper into Miss Preen's +unconscious hand. "You will have the politeness to give it to him, +madame." + +And, with that, he went off down the entry, whistling. + +"Do you know what the paper is, Flore?" asked Lavinia. + +"I think so," said Flore. "I've seen these papers before to-day. It's +just a sort of order from the law court on Captain Fennel, to pay up +some debt that he owes; and, if he does not pay, the court will issue a +procès against him. That's what it is, madame." + +Lavinia carried the paper into the salon, and sat studying it. As far as +she could make it out, Mr. Edwin Fennel was called upon to pay to some +creditor the sum of one hundred and eighty-three francs, without delay. + +"Over seven pounds! And if he does not pay, the law expenses, to enforce +it, will increase the debt perhaps by one-half," sighed Lavinia. "There +may be, and no doubt _are_, other things at the back of this. Will he +turn us out of house and home?" + +Propping the paper against the wall over the mantelpiece, she left it +there, that it might meet the captain's eye on his return. + +Not until quite late that evening did Madame Carimon get her husband to +herself, for he brought in one of the young under-masters at the college +to dine with them. But as soon as they were sitting cosily alone, he +smoking his pipe before bed-time, she told him all she had heard from +Lavinia Preen. + +"I don't like it, Jules; I don't indeed," she said. "It has made a +strangely disagreeable impression on me. What is your opinion?" + +Placid Monsieur Jules did not seem to have much opinion one way or the +other. Upon the superstitious portion of the tale he, being a practical +Frenchman, totally declined to have any at all. He was very sorry for +the uncomfortable position Miss Preen found herself in, and he certainly +was not surprised she should wish to quit the Petite Maison Rouge if +affairs could not be made more agreeable there. As to the Capitaine +Fennel, he felt free to confess there was something about him which he +did not like: and he was sure no man of honour ought to have run away +clandestinely, as he did, with Miss Nancy. + +"You see, Jules, what the man aims at is to get hold of Nancy's income +and apply it to his own uses--and for Lavinia to keep them upon hers." + +"I see," said Jules. + +"And Lavinia _cannot_ do it; she has not half enough. It troubles me +very much," flashed Madame Carimon. "She says she shall stay with +them until Easter is over. _I_ should not; I should leave them to it +to-morrow." + +"Yes, my dear, that's all very well," nodded Monsieur Jules; "but we +cannot always do precisely what we would. Miss Preen is responsible for +the rent of that house, and if Fennel and his wife do not pay it, she +would have to. She must have a thorough understanding upon that point +before she leaves it." + +By the nine-o'clock train that night they came home, Lavinia, pleading a +bad headache and feeling altogether out of sorts, got Flore to remain +for once, and went herself to bed. She dreaded the very sight of Captain +Fennel. + +In the morning she saw that the paper had disappeared from the +mantelpiece. He was quite jaunty at breakfast, talking to her and Nancy +about Pontipette; and things passed pleasantly. About eleven o'clock he +began brushing his hat to go out. + +"I'm going to have a look at Griffin, and see how he's getting on," he +remarked. "Perhaps the old man would enjoy a drive this fine day; if +so, you may not see me back till dinner-time." + +But just as Captain Fennel turned out of the Place Ronde to the Rue +Tessin, he came upon Charles Palliser, strolling along. + +"Fine day, Mr. Charles," he remarked graciously. + +"Capital," assented Charles, "and I'm glad of it; the old gentleman will +have a good passage. I've just seen him off by the eleven train." + +"Seems to me you spend your time in seeing people off by trains. Which +old gentleman is it now?--him from below?" + +Charley laughed. "It's Griffin this time," said he. "Being feeble, I +thought I might be of use in starting him, and went up." + +"Griffin!" exclaimed Captain Fennel. "Why, where's he gone to?" + +"To Calais. En route for Dover and----" + +"What's he gone for? When's he coming back?" interrupted the captain, +speaking like a man in great amazement. + +"He is not coming back at all; he has gone for good," said Charley. "His +daughter came to fetch him." + +"Why on earth should she do that?" + +"It seems that her husband, a clergyman at Kensington, fell across Major +Smith last week in London, and put some pretty close questions to him +about the old man, for they had been made uneasy by his letters of late. +The major----" + +"What business had the major in London?" questioned Captain Fennel +impatiently. + +"You can ask him," said Charles equably, "I didn't. He is back again. +Well, Major Smith, being questioned, made no bones about it at all; said +Griffin and Griffin's money both wanted looking after. Upon that, the +daughter came straight off, arriving here on Sunday morning; she settled +things yesterday, and has carried her father away to-day. He was as +pleased as Punch, poor childish old fellow, at the prospect of a voyage +in the boat." + +Whether this information put a check upon any little plan Captain Fennel +may have been entertaining, Charles Palliser could not positively know; +but he thought he had never seen so evil an eye as the one glaring upon +him. Only for a moment; just a flash; and then the face was smoothed +again. Charley had his ideas--and all his wits about him; and old +Griffin had babbled publicly. + +Captain Fennel strolled by his side towards the port, talking of +Pontipette and other matters of indifference. When in sight of the +harbour, he halted. + +"I must wish you good-day now, Palliser; I have letters to write," said +he; and walked briskly back again. + +Lavinia and Nancy were sitting together in the salon when he reached +home. Nancy was looking scared. + +"Edwin," she said, leaving her chair to meet him--"Edwin, what do you +think Lavinia has been saying? That she is going to leave us." + +"Oh, indeed," he carelessly answered. + +"But it is true, Edwin; she means it." + +"Yes, I mean it," interposed Lavinia very quietly. "You and Nancy will +be better without me; perhaps happier." + +He looked at her for a full minute in silence, then laughed a little. +"Like Darby and Joan," he remarked, as he put his writing-case on the +table and sat down to it. + +Mrs. Fennel returned to her chair by Lavinia, who was sitting close to +the window mending a lace collar which had been torn in the ironing. As +usual Nancy was doing nothing. + +"You _couldn't_ leave me, Lavinia, you know," she said in coaxing tones. + +"I know that I never thought to do so, Ann, but circumstances alter +cases," answered the elder sister. Both of them had dropped their voices +to a low key, not to disturb the letter-writer. But he could hear if +he chose to listen. "I began putting my things together yesterday, and +shall finish doing it at leisure. I will stay over Easter with you; but +go then I shall." + +"You must be cruel to think of such a thing, Lavinia." + +"Not cruel," corrected Lavinia. "I am sorry, Ann, but the step is forced +upon me. The anxieties in regard to money matters are wearing me out; +they would wear me out altogether if I did not end them. And there are +other things which urge upon me the expediency of departure from this +house." + +"What things?" + +"I cannot speak of them. Never mind what they are, Ann. They concern +myself; not you." + +Ann Fennel sat twirling one of her fair silken ringlets between her +thumb and finger; a habit of hers when thinking. + +"Where shall you live, Lavinia, if you do leave? Take another apartment +at Sainteville?" + +"I think not. It is a puzzling question. Possibly I may go back to +Buttermead, and get some family to take me in as a boarder," dreamily +answered Lavinia. "Seventy pounds a-year will not keep me luxuriously." + +Captain Fennel lifted his face. "If it will not keep one, how is it to +keep two?" he demanded, in rather defiant tones. + +"I don't know anything about that," said Lavinia civilly. "I have not +two to keep; only one." + +Nancy chanced to catch a glimpse of his face just then, and its look +frightened her. Lavinia had her back to him, and did not see it. Nancy +began to cry quietly. + +"Oh, Lavinia, you will think better of this; you will not leave us!" +she implored. "We could not do at all without you and your half of the +money." + +Lavinia had finished her collar, and rose to take it upstairs. "Don't be +distressed, Nancy," she paused to say; "it is a thing that _must be_. I +am very sorry; but it is not my fault. As you----" + +"You can stay in the house if you choose!" flashed Nancy, growing feebly +angry. + +"No, I cannot. I _cannot_," repeated Lavinia. "I begin to foresee that I +might--might die of it." + + +XI. + +Sainteville felt surprised and sorry to hear that Miss Preen was going +to leave it to its own devices, for the town had grown to like her. +Lavinia did not herself talk about going, but the news somehow got +wind. People wondered why she went. Matters, as connected with the +financial department of the Petite Maison Rouge, were known but +imperfectly--to most people not known at all; so that reason was not +thought of. It was quite understood that Ann Preen's stolen marriage, +capped by the bringing home of her husband to the Petite Maison Rouge, +had been a sharp blow to Miss Preen: perhaps, said Sainteville now, she +had tried living with them and found it did not answer. Or perhaps she +was only going away for a change, and would return after a while. + +Passion week passed, and Easter week came in, and Lavinia made her +arrangements for the succeeding one. On the Tuesday in that next week, +all being well, she would quit Sainteville. Her preparations were +made; her larger box was already packed and corded. Nancy, of shallow +temperament and elastic spirits, seemed quite to have recovered from the +sting of the proposed parting; she helped Lavinia to put up her laces +and other little fine things, prattling all the time. Captain Fennel +maintained his suavity. Beyond the words he had spoken--as to how she +expected the income to keep two if it would not keep one--he had +said nothing. It might be that he hardly yet believed Lavinia would +positively go. + +But she was going. At first only to Boulogne-sur-Mer. Monsieur +Jules Carimon had a cousin, Madame Degravier, who kept a superior +boarding-house there, much patronized by the English; he had written +to her to introduce Miss Preen, and to intimate that it would oblige +him if the terms were made très facile. Madame had written back to +Lavinia most satisfactorily, and, so far, that was arranged. + +Once at Boulogne in peace and quietness, Lavinia would have leisure to +decide upon her future plans. She hoped to pay a visit to Buttermead in +the summer-time, for she had begun to yearn for a sight of the old place +and its people. After that--well, she should see. If things went on +pleasantly at Sainteville--that is, if Captain Fennel and Nancy were +still in the Petite Maison Rouge, and he was enabled to find means to +continue in it--then, perhaps, she might return to the town. Not to make +one of the household--never again that; but she might find a little +pied-à-terre in some other home. + +Meanwhile, Lavinia heard no more of the procès, and she wondered how the +captain was meeting it. During the Easter week she made her farewell +calls. That week she was not very much at home; one or other of her old +acquaintances wanted her. Major and Mrs. Smith had her to spend a day +with them; the Miss Bosanquets invited her also; and so on. + +One call, involving also private business, she made upon old Madame +Sauvage, Mary Carimon accompanying her. Monsieur Gustave was called up +to the salon to assist at the conference. Lavinia partly explained her +position to them in strict confidence, and the motive, as touching +pecuniary affairs, which was taking her away: she said nothing of that +other and greater motive, her superstitious fear. + +"I have come to speak of the rent," she said to Monsieur Gustave, and +Mary Carimon repeated the words in French to old Madame Sauvage. "You +must in future look to Captain Fennel for it; you must make him pay it +if possible. At the same time, I admit my own responsibility," added +Lavinia, "and if it be found totally impracticable to get it from +Captain Fennel or my sister, I shall pay it to you. This must, of +course, be kept strictly between ourselves, Monsieur Gustave; you and +madame understand that. If Captain Fennel gained any intimation of it, +he would take care not to pay it." + +Monsieur Gustave and madame his mother assured her that they fully +understood, and that she might rely upon their honour. They were grieved +to lose so excellent a tenant and neighbour as Miss Preen, and wished +circumstances had been more kindly. One thing she might rest assured +of--that they should feel at least as mortified at having to apply to +her for the rent as she herself would be, and they would not leave a +stone unturned to extract it from the hands of Captain Fennel. + +"It has altogether been a most bitter trial to me," sighed Lavinia, as +she stood up to say farewell to madame. + +The old lady understood, and the tears came into her compassionate eyes +as she held Lavinia's hands between her own. "Ay, for certain," she +replied in French. "She and her sons had said so privately to one +another ever since the abrupt coming home of the strange captain to the +petite maison à côté." + +On Sunday, Lavinia, accompanied by Nancy and Captain Fennel, attended +morning service for the last time. She spoke to several acquaintances +coming out, wishing them good-bye, and was hastening to overtake her +sister, when she heard rapid steps behind her, and a voice speaking. +Turning, she saw Charley Palliser. + +"Miss Preen," cried he, "my aunt wants you to come home and dine with +us. See, she is waiting for you. You could not come any one day last +week, you know." + +"I was not able to come to you last week, Mr. Charles; I had so much to +do, and so many engagements," said Lavinia, as she walked back to Mrs. +Hardy, who stood smiling. + +"But you will come to-day, dear Miss Preen," said old Mrs. Hardy, who +had caught the words. "We have a lovely fricandeau of veal, and----" + +"Why, that is just our own dinner," interrupted Lavinia gaily. "I should +like to come to you, Mrs. Hardy, but I cannot. It is my last Sunday at +home, and I could not well go out and leave them." + +They saw the force of the objection. Mrs. Hardy asked whether she should +be at church in the evening. Lavinia replied that she intended to be, +and they agreed to bid each other farewell then. + +"You don't know what you've lost, Miss Preen," said Charley comically. +"There's a huge cream tart--lovely." + +Captain Fennel was quite lively at the dinner-table. He related a rather +laughable story which had been told him by Major Smith, with whom he had +walked for ten minutes after church, and was otherwise gracious. + +After dinner, while Flore was taking away the things, he left the room, +and came back with three glasses of liqueur, on a small waiter, handing +one to Lavinia, another to his wife, and keeping the third himself. It +was the yellow chartreuse; Captain Fennel kept a bottle of it and of one +or two other choice liqueurs in the little cupboard at the end of the +passage, and treated them to a glass sometimes. + +"How delightful!" cried Nancy, who liked chartreuse and anything else +that was good. + +They sat and sipped it, talking pleasantly together. The captain soon +finished his, and said he should take a stroll on the pier. It was a +bright day with a brisk wind, which seemed to be getting higher. + +"The London boat ought to be in about four o'clock," he remarked. +"It's catching it sweetly, I know; passengers will look like ghosts. +Au revoir; don't get quarrelling." And thus, nodding to the two +ladies, he went out gaily. + +Not much danger of their quarrelling. They turned their chairs to +the fire, and plunged into conversation, which chanced to turn upon +Buttermead. In calling up one reminiscence of the old place after +another, now Lavinia, now Nancy, the time passed on. Lavinia wore her +silver-grey silk dress that day, with some yellowish-looking lace +falling at the throat and wrists. + +Flore came in to bring the tea-tray; she always put it on the table in +readiness on a Sunday afternoon. The water, she said, would be on the +boil in the kitchen by the time they wanted it. And then she went away +as usual for the rest of the day. + +Not long afterwards, Lavinia, who was speaking, suddenly stopped in the +middle of a sentence. She started up in her chair, fell back again, and +clasped her hands below her chest with a great cry. + +"Oh, Nancy!--Nancy!" + +Nancy dashed across the hearthrug. "What is it?" she exclaimed. "What is +it, Lavinia?" + +Lavinia apparently could not say what it was. She seemed to be in the +greatest agony; her face had turned livid. Nancy was next door to an +imbecile in any emergency, and fairly wrung her hands in her distress. + +"Oh, what can be the matter with me?" gasped Lavinia. "Nancy, I think I +am dying." + +The next moment she had glided from the chair to the floor, and lay +there shrieking and writhing. Bursting away, Nancy ran round to the +next house, all closed to-day, rang wildly at the private door, and +when it was opened by Mariette, rushed upstairs to madame's salon. + +Madame Veuve Sauvage, comprehending that something was amiss, without +understanding Nancy's frantic words, put a shawl on her shoulders to +hasten to the other house, ordering Mariette to follow her. Her sons +were out. + +There lay Lavinia, in the greatest agony. Madame Sauvage sent Mariette +off for Monsieur Dupuis, and told her to fly. "Better bring Monsieur +Henri Dupuis, Mariette," she called after her: "he will get quicker over +the ground than his old father." + +But Monsieur Henri Dupuis, as it turned out, was absent. He had left +that morning for Calais with his wife, to spend two days with her +friends who lived there, purposing to be back early on Tuesday morning. +Old Monsieur Dupuis came very quickly. He thought Mademoiselle Preen +must have inward inflammation, he said to Madame Sauvage, and inquired +what she had eaten for dinner. Nancy told him as well as she could +between her sobs and her broken speech. + +A fricandeau of veal, potatoes, a cauliflower au gratin, and a +frangipane tart from the pastrycook's. No fruit or any other dessert. +They took a little Bordeaux wine with dinner, and a liqueur glass of +chartreuse afterwards. + +All very wholesome, pronounced Monsieur Dupuis, with satisfaction; not +at all likely to disagree with mademoiselle. Possibly she had caught a +chill. + +Mariette had run for Flore, who came in great consternation. Between +them all they got Lavinia upstairs, undressed her and laid her in bed, +applying hot flannels to the pain--and Monsieur Dupuis administered in +a wine-glass of water every quarter-of-an-hour some drops from a glass +phial which he had brought in his pocket. + +It was close upon half-past five when Captain Fennel came in. He +expressed much surprise and concern, saying, like the doctor, that she +must have eaten something which had disagreed with her. The doctor +avowed that he could not otherwise account for the seizure; he did not +altogether think it was produced by a chill; and he spoke again of the +dinner. Captain Fennel observed that as to the dinner they had all three +partaken of it, one the same as another; he did not see why it should +affect his sister-in-law and not himself or his wife. This reasoning was +evident, admitted Monsieur Dupuis; but Miss Preen had touched nothing +since her breakfast, except at dinner. In point of fact, he felt very +much at a loss, he did not scruple to add; but the more acute symptoms +were showing a slight improvement, he was thankful to perceive, and he +trusted to bring her round. + +As he did. In a few hours the pain had so far abated, or yielded to +remedies, that poor Lavinia, worn out, dropped into a comfortable sleep. +Monsieur Dupuis was round again early in the morning, and found her +recovered, though still feeling tired and very weak. He advised her +to lie in bed until the afternoon; not to get up then unless she felt +inclined; and he charged her to take chiefly milk food all the day--no +solids whatever. + +Lavinia slept again all the morning, and awoke very much refreshed. In +the afternoon she felt quite equal to getting up, and did so, dressing +herself in the grey silk she had worn the previous day, because it was +nearest at hand. She then penned a line to Madame Degravier, saying she +was unable to travel to Boulogne on the morrow, as had been fixed, but +hoped to be there on Wednesday, or, at the latest, Thursday. + +Captain Fennel, who generally took possession of the easiest chair in +the salon, and the warmest place, resigned it to Lavinia the instant she +appeared downstairs. He shook her by the hand, said how glad he was that +she had recovered from her indisposition, and installed her in the chair +with a cushion at her back and a rug over her knees. All she had to +dread now, he thought, was cold; she must guard against that. Lavinia +replied that she could not in the least imagine what had been the matter +with her; she had never had a similar attack before, and had never been +in such dreadful pain. + +Presently Mary Carimon came in, having heard of the affair from +Mariette, whom she had met in the fish-market during the morning. All +danger was over, Mariette said, and mademoiselle was then sleeping +quietly: so Madame Carimon, not to disturb her, put off calling until +the afternoon. Captain Fennel sat talking with her a few minutes, and +then went out. For some cause or other he never seemed to be quite at +ease in the presence of Madame Carimon. + +"I know what it must have been," cried Mary Carimon, coming to one of +her rapid conclusions after listening to the description of the illness. +"Misled by the sunny spring days last week, you went and left off some +of your warm underclothing, Lavinia, and so caught cold." + +"Good gracious!" exclaimed Nancy, who had curled herself up on the sofa +like a ball, not having yet recovered from her fatigue and fright. +"Leave off one's warm things the beginning of April! I never heard of +such imprudence! How came you to do it, Lavinia?" + +"I did not do it," said Lavinia quietly. "I have not left off anything. +Should I be so silly as to do that with a journey before me?" + +"Then what caused the attack?" debated Madame Carimon. "Something you +had eaten?" + +Lavinia shook her head helplessly. "It could hardly have been that, +Mary. I took nothing whatever that Nancy and Captain Fennel did not +take. I wish I did know--that I might guard, if possible, against a +similar attack in future. The pain seized me all in a moment. I thought +I was dying." + +"It sounds odd," said Madame Carimon. "Monsieur Dupuis does not know +either, it seems. That's why I thought you might have been leaving off +your things, and did not like to tell him." + +"I conclude that it must have been one of those mysterious attacks of +sudden illness to which we are all liable, but for which no one can +account," sighed Lavinia. "I hope I shall never have it again. This +experience has been enough for a lifetime." + +Mary Carimon warmly echoed the hope as she rose to take her departure. +She advised Lavinia to go to bed early, and promised to come again in +the morning. + +While Captain Fennel and Nancy dined, Flore made her mistress some tea, +and brought in with it some thin bread-and-butter. Lavinia felt all the +better for the refreshment, laughingly remarking that by the morning +she was sure she should be as hungry as a hunter. She sat chatting, and +sometimes dozing between whiles, until about a quarter to nine o'clock, +when she said she would go to bed. + +Nancy went to the kitchen to make her a cup of arrowroot. Lavinia then +wished Captain Fennel good-night, and went upstairs. Flore had left as +usual, after washing up the dinner-things. + +"Lavinia, shall I---- Oh, she has gone on," broke off Nancy, who had +come in with the breakfast-cup of arrowroot in her hand. "Edwin, do you +think I may venture to put a little brandy into this?" + +Captain Fennel sat reading with his face to the fire and the lamp at his +elbow. He turned round. + +"Brandy?" said he. "I'm sure I don't know. If that pain meant +inflammation, brandy might do harm. Ask Lavinia; she had better decide +for herself. No, no; leave the arrowroot on the table here," he hastily +cried, as Nancy was going out of the room with the cup. "Tell Lavinia +to come down, and we'll discuss the matter with her. Of course a little +brandy would do her an immense deal of good, if she might take it with +safety." + +Nancy did as she was told. Leaving the cup and saucer on the table, she +went up to her sister. In a minute or two she was back again. + +"Lavinia won't come down again, Edwin; she is already half-undressed. +She thinks she had better be on the safe side, and not have the brandy." + +"All right," replied the captain, who was sitting as before, intent on +his book. Nancy took the cup upstairs. + +She helped her sister into bed, and then gave her the arrowroot, +inquiring whether she had made it well. + +"Quite well, only it was rather sweet," answered Lavinia. + +"Sweet!" echoed Nancy, in reply. "Why, I hardly put any sugar at all +into it; I remembered that you don't like it." + +Lavinia finished the cupful. Nancy tucked her up, and gave her a +good-night kiss. "Pleasant dreams, Lavinia dear," she called back, as +she was shutting the door. + +"Thank you, Nancy; but I hope I shall sleep to-night without dreaming," +answered Lavinia. + +As Nancy went downstairs she turned into the kitchen for her own +arrowroot, which she had left all that time in the saucepan. Being fond +of it, she had made enough for herself as well as for Lavinia. + + +XII. + +It was between half-past ten and eleven, and Captain and Mrs. Fennel +were in their bedroom preparing to retire to rest. She stood before the +glass doing her hair, having thrown a thin print cotton cape upon her +shoulders as usual, to protect her dress; he had taken off his coat. + +"What was that?" cried she, in startled tones. + +Some sound had penetrated to their room. The captain put his coat on a +chair and bent his ear. "I did not hear anything, Nancy," he answered. + +"There it is again!" exclaimed Nancy. "Oh, it is Lavinia! I do believe +it is Lavinia!" + +Flinging the comb from her hand, Nancy dashed out at the room-door, +which was near the head of the stairs; Lavinia's door being nearly at +the end of the passage. Unmistakable sounds, now a shriek, now a wail, +came from Lavinia's chamber. Nancy flew into it, her fair hair falling +on her shoulders. + +"What is it, Lavinia? Oh, Edwin, Edwin, come here!" called Mrs. Fennel, +beside herself with terror. Lavinia was rolling about the bed, as she +had the previous day rolled on the salon floor; her face was distorted +with pain, her moans and cries were agonizing. + +Captain Fennel stayed to put on his coat, came to Lavinia's door, and +put his head inside it. "Is it the pain again?" he asked. + +"Yes, it is the pain again," gasped Lavinia, in answer. "I am dying, I +am surely dying!" + +That put the finishing-touch to timorous Nancy. "Edwin, run, run for +Monsieur Dupuis!" she implored. "Oh, what shall we do? What shall we +do?" + +Captain Fennel descended the stairs. When Nancy thought he must have +been gone out at least a minute or two, he appeared again with a +wine-glass of hot brandy-and-water, which he had stayed to mix. + +"Try and get her to take this," he said. "It can't do harm; it may do +good. And if you could put hot flannels to her, Nancy, it might be well; +they eased the pain yesterday. I'll bring Dupuis here as soon as I can." + +Lavinia could not take the brandy-and-water, and it was left upon the +grey marble top of the chest of drawers. Her paroxysms increased; Nancy +had never seen or imagined such pain, for this attack was worse than the +other, and she almost lost her wits with terror. Could she see Lavinia +die before her eyes?--no helping hand near to strive to save her? Just +as Nancy had done before, she did again now. + +Flying down the stairs and out of the house, across the yard and through +the dark entry, she seized the bell-handle of Madame Veuve Sauvage's +door and pulled it frantically. The household had all retired for the +night. + +Presently a window above opened, and Monsieur Gustave--Nancy knew his +voice--looked out. + +"Who's there?" he asked in French. "What's the matter?" + +"Oh, Monsieur Gustave, come in for the love of Heaven!" responded poor +Nancy, looking up. "She has another attack, worse than the first; she's +dying, and there's no one in the house but me." + +"Directly, madame; I am with you on the instant," he kindly answered. +"I but wait to put on my effects." + +He was at the Petite Maison Rouge almost as soon as she; his brother +Emile followed him in, and Mariette, whom they had called, came shortly. +Miss Preen lay in dreadful paroxysms; it did appear to them that she +must die. Nancy and Mariette busied themselves in the kitchen, heating +flannels. + +The doctor did not seem to come very quickly. Captain Fennel at length +made his appearance and said Monsieur Dupuis would be there in a minute +or two. + +"I am content to hear that," remarked Monsieur Gustave in reply. "I was +just about to despatch my brother for the first doctor he could find." + +"Never had such trouble in ringing up a doctor before," returned Captain +Fennel. "I suppose the old man sleeps too soundly to be easily aroused; +many elderly people do." + +"I fear she is dying," whispered Monsieur Gustave. + +"No, no, surely not!" cried Captain Fennel, recoiling a step at the +words. "What can it possibly be? What causes the attacks?" + +Whilst Monsieur Gustave was shaking his head at this difficult question, +Monsieur Dupuis arrived. Monsieur Emile, anxious to make himself useful, +was requested by Mariette to go to Flore's domicile and ring her up. +Flore seemed to have been sleeping with her clothes on, for they came +back together. + +Monsieur Dupuis could do nothing for his patient. He strove to +administer drops of medicinal remedies; he caused her to be nearly +smothered in scalding-hot flannels--all in vain. He despatched Monsieur +Emile Sauvage to bring in another doctor, Monsieur Podevin, who lived +near. All in vain. Lavinia died. Just at one o'clock in the morning, +before the cocks had begun to crow, Lavinia Preen died. + +The shock to those in the house was great. It seemed to stun them, one +and all. The brothers Sauvage, leaving a few words of heartfelt sympathy +with Captain Fennel, withdrew silently to their own home. Mariette +stayed. The two doctors, shut up in the salon, talked with one another, +endeavouring to account for the death. + +"Inflammation, no doubt," observed Monsieur Dupuis; "but even so, the +death has been too speedy." + +"More like poison," rejoined the younger man, Monsieur Podevin. He +was brother to the proprietor of the Hôtel des Princes, and was much +respected by his fellow-citizens as a safe and skilful practitioner. + +"The thought of poison naturally occurred to me on Sunday, when I was +first called to her," returned Monsieur Dupuis, "but it could not be +borne out. You see, she had partaken of nothing, either in food or +drink, but what the other inmates had taken; absolutely nothing. This +was assured me by them all, herself included." + +"She seems to have taken nothing to-day, either, that could in any way +harm her," said Monsieur Podevin. + +"Nothing. She took a cup of tea at five o'clock, which the servant, +Flore, prepared and also partook of herself--a cup out of the same +teapot. Later, when the poor lady went to bed, her sister made her a +basin of arrowroot, and made herself one at the same time." + +"Well, it appears strange." + +"It could not have been a chill. The symptoms----" + +"A chill?--bah!" interrupted Monsieur Podevin. "We shall know more +after the post-mortem," he added, taking up his hat. "Of course there +must be one." + +Wishing his brother practitioner good-night, he left. Monsieur Dupuis +went looking about for Captain Fennel, and found him in the kitchen, +standing by the hot stove, and drinking a glass of hot brandy-and-water. +The rest were upstairs. + +"This event has shaken my nerves, doctor," apologized the captain, in +reference to the glass. "I never was so upset. Shall I mix you one?" + +Monsieur Dupuis shook his head. He never took anything so strong. The +most calming thing, in his opinion, was a glass of eau sucrée, with a +teaspoonful of orange-flower water in it. + +"Sir," he went on, "I have been conversing with my esteemed confrère. We +cannot, either of us, decide what mademoiselle has died of, being unable +to see any adequate cause for it; and we wish to hold a post-mortem +examination. I presume you will not object to it?" + +"Certainly not; I think there should be one," briskly spoke Captain +Fennel after a moment's pause. "For our satisfaction, if for nothing +else, doctor." + +"Very well. Will nine o'clock in the morning suit you, as to time? It +should be made early." + +"I--expect it will," answered the captain, reflecting. "Do you hold it +here?" + +"Undoubtedly. In her own room." + +"Then wait just one minute, will you, doctor, whilst I speak to my wife. +Nine o'clock seems a little early, but I dare say it will suit." + +Monsieur Dupuis went back into the salon. He had waited there a short +interval, when Mrs. Fennel burst in, wild with excitement. Her hair +still hung down her back, her eyes were swollen with weeping, her face +was one of piteous distress. She advanced to Monsieur Dupuis, and held +up her trembling hands. + +The old doctor understood English fairly well when it was quietly +spoken; but he did not in the least understand it in a storm. Sobbing, +trembling, Mrs. Fennel was beseeching him not to hold a post-mortem on +her poor dead sister, for the love of mercy. + +Surprised and distressed, he placed her on the sofa, soothed her into +calmness, and then bade her tell him quietly what her petition was. She +repeated it--begging, praying, imploring him not to disturb her sister +now she was at rest; but to let her be put into her grave in peace. +Well, well, said the compassionate old man; if it would pain the +relatives so greatly to have it done, he and Monsieur Podevin would, of +course, abandon the idea. It would be a satisfaction to them both to be +able to decide upon the cause of death, but they did not wish to proceed +in it against the feelings of the family. + +Sainteville woke up in the morning to a shock. Half the townspeople +still believed that Miss Preen was leaving that day, Tuesday, for +Boulogne; and to hear that she would not go on that journey, that she +would never go on any earthly journey again, that she was _dead_, shook +them to the centre. + +What had been the matter with her?--what had killed her so quickly in +the midst of life and health? Groups asked this; one group meeting +another. "Inflammation," was the answer--for that report had somehow +started itself. She caught a chill on the Sunday, probably when leaving +the church after morning service; it induced speedy and instant +inflammation, and she had died of it. + +With softened steps and mournful faces, hosts of people made their way +to the Place Ronde. Only to take a glimpse at the outside of the Maison +Rouge brought satisfaction to excited feelings. Monsieur Gustave Sauvage +had caused his white shop window-blinds to be drawn half-way down, out +of respect to the dead; all the windows above had the green persiennes +closed before them. The calamity had so greatly affected old Madame +Sauvage that she lay in bed. + +When her sons returned indoors after the death had taken place, their +mother called them to her room. Nancy's violent ringing had disturbed +her, and she had lain since then in anxiety, waiting for news. + +"Better not tell the mother to-night," whispered Emile to his brother +outside her door. + +But the mother's ears were quick; she was sitting up in bed, and the +door was ajar. "Yes, you will tell me, my sons," she said. "I am fearing +the worst." + +"Well, mother, it is all over," avowed Gustave. "The attack was more +violent than the one last night, and the poor lady is gone." + +"May the good God have taken her to His rest!" fervently aspirated +madame. But she lay down in the bed in her distress and covered her face +with the white-frilled pillow and sobbed a little. Gustave and Emile +related a few particulars. + +"And what was really the malady? What is it that she has died of?" +questioned the mother, wiping her eyes. + +"That is not settled; nobody seems to know," replied Gustave. + +Madame Veuve Sauvage lay still, thinking. +"I--hope--that--man--has--not--done--her--any--injury!" she slowly said. + +"I hope not either; there is no appearance of it," said Monsieur +Gustave. "Any way, mother, she had two skilful doctors with her, honest +men and upright. Better not admit such thoughts." + +"True, true," murmured madame, appeased. "I fear the poor dear lady must +have taken a chill, which struck inwardly. That handsome demoiselle, +the cousin of Monsieur le Procureur, died of the same thing, you may +remember. Good-night, my sons; you leave me very unhappy." + +About eight o'clock in the morning, Monsieur Jules Carimon heard of it. +In going through the large iron entrance-gates of the college to his +day's work, he found himself accosted by one of two or three young +gamins of pupils, who were also entering. It was Dion Pamart. The +well-informed reader is of course aware that the French educational +colleges are attended by all classes, high and low, indiscriminately. + +"Monsieur, have you heard?" said the lad, with timid deprecation. +"Mademoiselle is dead." + +Monsieur Jules Carimon turned his eyes on the speaker. At first he did +not recognize him: his own work lay with the advanced desks. + +"Ah, c'est Pamart, n'est-ce-pas?" said he. "What did you say, my boy? +Some one is dead?" + +Dion Pamart repeated his information. The master, inwardly shocked, took +refuge in disbelief. + +"I think you must be mistaken, Pamart," said he. + +"Oh no, I'm not, sir. Mademoiselle was taken frightfully ill again last +night, and they fetched my mother. They had two doctors to her and all; +but they couldn't do anything for her, and she died. Grandmother gave me +my breakfast just now; she said my mother was crying too much to come +home. The other lady, the captain's wife, has been in hysterics all +night." + +"Go on to your desks," commanded Monsieur Carimon to the small fry now +gathered round him. + +He turned back home himself. When he entered the salle-à-manger, Pauline +was carrying away the last of the breakfast-things. Her mistress stood +putting a little water on a musk plant in the window. + +"Is it you, Jules?" she exclaimed. "Have you forgotten something?" + +Monsieur Jules shut the door. "I have not forgotten anything," he +answered. "But I have heard of a sad calamity, and I have come back to +prepare you, Marie, before you hear it from others." + +He spoke solemnly; he was looking solemn. His wife put down the jug of +water on the table. "A calamity?" she repeated. + +"Yes. You will grieve to hear it. Your friend, Miss Preen, was--was +taken ill last night with the same sort of attack, but more violent; and +she----" + +"Oh, Jules, don't tell me, don't tell me!" cried Mary Carimon, lifting +her hands to ward off the words with a too sure prevision of what they +were going to be. + +"But, my dear, you must be told sooner or later," remonstrated he; "you +cannot go through even this morning without hearing it from one person +or another. Flore's boy was my informant. In spite of all that could be +done by those about her, poor lady--in spite of the two doctors who were +called to her aid--she died." + +Madame Carimon was a great deal too much stunned for tears. She sank +back in a chair with a face of stone, feeling that the room was turning +upside down about her. + +An hour later, when she had somewhat gathered her scattered senses +together, she set off for the Petite Maison Rouge. Her way lay past the +house of Monsieur Podevin; old Monsieur Dupuis was turning out of it as +she went by. Madame Carimon stopped. + +"Yes," the doctor said, when a few words had passed, "it is a most +desolating affair. But, as madame knows, when Death has laid his grasp +upon a patient, medical craft loses its power to resist him." + +"Too true," murmured Mary Carimon. "And what is it that she has died +of?" + +Monsieur Dupuis shook his head to indicate that he did not know. + +"I could have wished for an examination, to ascertain the true cause of +the seizure," continued the doctor, "and I come now from expressing my +regrets to my confrère, Monsieur Podevin. He agrees with me in deciding +that we cannot press it in opposition to the family. Captain Fennel +was quite willing it should take place, but his wife, poor distressed +woman, altogether objects to it." + +Mary Carimon went on to the house of death. She saw Lavinia, looking so +peaceful in her stillness. A happy smile sat on her countenance. On her +white attire lay some sweet fresh primroses, which Flore had placed +there. Lavinia loved primroses. She used to say that when she looked at +them they brought to her mind the woods and dales of Buttermead, always +carpeted with the pale, fair blossoms in the spring of the year. Mrs. +Fennel lay in a heavy sleep, exhausted by her night of distress, Flore +informed Madame Carimon; and the captain, anxious about her, was sitting +in her room, to guard against her being disturbed. + +On the next day, Wednesday, in obedience to the laws of France relating +to the dead, Lavinia Preen was buried. All the English gentlemen in the +town, and some Frenchmen, including Monsieur Carimon and the sons of +Madame Veuve Sauvage, assembled in the Place Ronde, and fell in behind +the coffin when it was brought forth. They walked after it to the +portion of the cemetery consecrated to Protestants, and there witnessed +the interment. The tears trickled down Charley Palliser's face as he +took his last look into the grave, and he was honest enough not to mind +who saw them. + + +XIII. + +In their new mourning, at the English Church, the Sunday after the +interment of Lavinia Preen, appeared Captain and Mrs. Fennel. The +congregation looked at them more than at the parson. Poor Nancy's eyes +were so blinded with tears that she could not see the letters in her +Prayer-book. Only one little week ago when she had sat there, Lavinia +was on the bench at her side, alive and well; and now---- It was with +difficulty Nancy kept herself from breaking down. + +Two or three acquaintances caught her hand on leaving the church, +whispering a few words of sympathy in her ear. Not one but felt truly +sorry for her. The captain's hat, which had a wide band round it, was +perpetually raised in acknowledgment of silent greetings, as he piloted +his wife back to their house, the Petite Maison Rouge. + +A very different dinner-table, this which the two sat down to, from +last Sunday's, in the matter of cheerfulness. Nancy was about half-way +through the wing of the fowl her husband had helped her to, when a +choking sob caught her throat. She dropped her knife and fork. + +"Oh, Edwin, I cannot! I cannot eat for my unhappy thoughts! This time +last Sunday Lavinia was seated at the table with us. Now----" Nancy's +speech collapsed altogether. + +"Come, come," said Captain Fennel. "I hope you are not going to be +hysterical again, Nancy. It is frightfully sad; I know that; but this +prolonged grief will do no good. Go on with your dinner; it is a very +nice chicken." + +Nancy gave a great sob, and spoke impulsively, "I don't believe you +regret her one bit, Edwin!" + +Edwin Fennel in turn laid down his knife and fork and stared at his +wife. A curious expression sat on his face. + +"Not regret her," he repeated with emphasis. "Why, Nancy, I regret her +every hour of the day. But I do not make a parade of my regrets. Why +should I?--to what end? Come, come, my dear; you will be all the better +for eating your dinner." + +He went on with his own as he spoke. Nancy took up her knife and fork +with a hopeless sigh. + +Dinner over, Captain Fennel went to his cupboard and brought in some +of the chartreuse. Two glasses, this time, instead of three. He might +regret Lavinia, as he said, every hour of the day; possibly he did so; +but it did not seem to affect his appetite, or his relish for good +things. + +Most events have their dark and their light sides. It could hardly +escape the mind of Edwin Fennel that by the death of Lavinia the whole +income became Nancy's. To him that must have been a satisfactory +consolation. + +In the afternoon he went with Nancy for a walk on the pier. She did not +want to go; said she had no spirits for it; it was miserable at home; +miserable out; miserable everywhere. Captain Fennel took her off, as +he might have taken a child, telling her she should come and see the +fishing-boats. After tea they went to church--an unusual thing for +Captain Fennel. Lavinia and Nancy formerly went to evening service; he, +never. + +That night something curious occurred. Nancy went up to bed leaving the +captain to follow, after finishing his glass of grog. He generally took +one the last thing. Nancy had taken off her gown, and was standing +before the glass about to undo her hair, when she heard him leave the +parlour. Her bedroom-door, almost close to the head of the stairs, was +not closed, and her ears were on the alert. Since Lavinia died, Nancy +had felt timid in the house when alone, and she was listening for her +husband to come up. She heard him lock up the spirit bottle in the +little cupboard below, and begin to ascend the stairs, and she opened +her door wider, that the light might guide him, for the staircase was in +darkness. + +Captain Fennel had nearly gained the top, when something--he never knew +what--induced him to look round sharply, as though he fancied some one +was close behind him. In fact, he did fancy it. In a moment, he gave a +shout, dashed onwards into the bedroom, shut the door with a bang, and +bolted it. Nancy, in great astonishment, turned to look at him. He +seemed to have shrunk within himself in a fit of trembling, his face was +ghastly, and the perspiration stood upon his brow. + +"Edwin!" she exclaimed in a scared whisper, "what is the matter?" + +Captain Fennel did not answer at first. He was getting up his breath. + +"Has Flore not gone?" he then said. + +"_Flore!_" exclaimed Nancy in surprise. "Why, Edwin, you know Flore goes +away on Sundays in the middle of the afternoon! She left before we went +on the pier. Why do you ask?" + +"I--I thought--some person--followed me upstairs," he replied, in uneasy +pauses. + +"Oh, my goodness!" cried timid Nancy. "Perhaps a thief has got into the +house!" + +She went to the door, and was about to draw it an inch open, intending +to peep out gingerly and listen, when her husband pulled her back with a +motion of terror, and put his back against it. This meant, she thought, +that he _knew_ a thief was there. Perhaps two of them! + +"Is there more than one?" she whispered. "Lavinia's silver--my silver, +now--is in the basket on the console in the salon." + +He did not answer. He appeared to be listening. Nancy listened also. The +house seemed still as death. + +"Perhaps I was mistaken," said Captain Fennel, beginning to recover +himself after a bit. "I dare say I was." + +"Well, I think you must have been, Edwin; I can't hear anything. We had +better open the door." + +She undid the bolt as she spoke, and he moved away from it. Nancy +cautiously took a step outside, and kept still. Not a sound met her ear. +Then she brought forth the candle and looked down the staircase. Not a +sign of anything or any one met her eye. + +"Edwin, there's nothing, there's nobody; come and see. You must have +fancied it." + +"No doubt," answered Captain Fennel. But he did not go to see, for all +that. + +Nancy went back to the room. "Won't you just look downstairs?" she said. +"I--I don't much mind going with you." + +"Not any necessity," replied he, and began to undress--and slipped the +bolt again. + +"Why do you bolt the door to-night?" asked Nancy. + +"To keep the thief out," said he, in grim tones, which Nancy took for +jesting. But she could not at all understand him. + +His restlessness kept her awake. "It _must_ have been all fancy," she +more than once heard him mutter to himself. + +When he rose in the morning, his restlessness seemed still to hang upon +him. Remarking to Nancy, who was only half-awake, that his nerves were +out of order, and he should be all the better for a sea-bath, he dressed +and left the room. Nancy got down at the usual hour, half-past eight; +and was told by Flore that monsieur had left word madame was not to wait +breakfast for him: he was gone to have a dip in the sea, and should +probably take a long country walk after it. + +Flore was making the coffee at the kitchen stove; her mistress stood by, +as if wanting to watch the process. These last few days, since Lavinia +had been carried from the house, Nancy had felt easier in Flore's +company than when alone with her own. + +"That's to steady his nerves; they are out of order," replied Nancy, who +had as much idea of reticence as a child. "Monsieur had a great fright +last night, Flore." + +"Truly!" said Flore, much occupied just then with her coffee-pot. + +"He was coming up to bed between ten and eleven; I had gone on. When +nearly at the top of the stairs he thought he heard some one behind +him. It startled him frightfully. Not being prepared for it, supposing +that the house was empty, you see, Flore, of course it would startle +him." + +"Naturally, madame." + +"He cried out, and dashed into the bedroom and bolted the door. I never +saw any one in such a state of terror, Flore; he was trembling all over; +his face was whiter than your apron." + +"Vraiment!" returned Flore, turning to look at her mistress in a little +surprise. "But, madame, what had terrified him? What was it that he had +seen?" + +"Why, he could have seen nothing," corrected Mrs. Fennel. "There was +nothing to see." + +"Madame has reason; there could have been nothing, the house being +empty. But then, what could have frightened him?" repeated Flore. + +"Why, he must have fancied it, I suppose. Any way, he fancied some one +was there. The first question he asked me was, whether you were in the +house." + +"Moi! Monsieur might have known I should not be in the house at that +hour, madame. And why should he show terror if he thought it was me?" + +Mrs. Fennel shrugged her shoulders. "It was a moment's scare; just that, +I conclude; and it upset his nerves. A sea-bath will put him all right +again." + +Flore carried the coffee into the salon, and her mistress sat down to +breakfast. + +Now it chanced that this same week a guest came to stay with Madame +Carimon. Stella Featherston, from Buttermead, was about to make a +sojourn in Paris, and she took Sainteville on her route that she might +stay a few days with her cousin, Mary Carimon, whom she had not seen for +several years. + +Lavinia and Ann Preen had once been very intimate with Miss Featherston, +who reached Madame Carimon's on the Thursday. On the Friday morning Mrs. +Fennel called to see her--and, in Nancy's impromptu way, she invited her +and Mary Carimon to take tea at seven o'clock that same evening at the +Petite Maison Rouge. + +Nancy went home delighted. It was a little divertissement to her present +saddened life. Captain Fennel knitted his brow when he heard of the +arrangement, but made no objection in words. His wife shrank at the +frown. + +"Don't you like my having invited Miss Featherston to tea, Edwin?" + +"Oh! I've no objection to it," he carelessly replied. "I am not in love +with either Carimon or his wife, and don't care how little I see of +them." + +"He cannot come, having a private class on to-night. And I could not +invite Miss Featherston without Mary Carimon," pleaded Nancy. + +"Just so. I am not objecting." + +With this somewhat ungracious assent, Nancy had to content herself. +She ordered a gâteau Suisse, the nicest sort of gâteau to be had at +Sainteville; and told Flore that she must for once remain for the +evening. + +The guests appeared punctually at seven o'clock. Such a thing as being +invited for one hour, and strolling in an hour or two after it, was a +mark of English breeding never yet heard of in the simple-mannered +French town. Miss Featherston, a smart, lively young woman, wore a +cherry-coloured silk; Mary Carimon was in black; she had gone into +slight mourning for Lavinia. Good little Monsieur Jules had put a small +band on his hat. + +Captain Fennel was not at home to tea, and the ladies had it all their +own way in the matter of talking. What with items of news from the old +home, Buttermead, and Stella's telling about her own plans, the +conversation never flagged a moment. + +"Yes, that's what I am going to Paris for," said Stella, explaining her +plans. "I don't seem likely to marry, for nobody comes to ask me, and I +mean to go out in the world and make a little money. It is a sin and a +shame that a healthy girl, the eldest of three sisters, should be living +upon her poor mother in idleness. Not much of a girl, you may say, for +I was three-and-thirty last week! but we all like to pay ourselves +compliments when age is in question." + +Nancy laughed. Almost the first time she had laughed since Lavinia's +death. + +"So you are going to Paris to learn French, Stella!" + +"I am going to Paris to learn French, Nancy," assented Miss Featherston. +"I know it pretty well, but when I come to speak it I am all at sea; and +you can't get out as a governess now unless you speak it fluently. At +each of the two situations I applied for in Worcestershire, it was the +one fatal objection: 'We should have liked you, Miss Featherston, but we +can only engage a lady who will speak French with the children.' So I +made my mind up to _speak_ French; and I wrote to good Monsieur Jules +Carimon, and he has found me a place to go to in Paris, where not a +soul in the household speaks English. He says, and I say, that in six +months I shall chatter away like a native," she concluded, laughing. + + +XIV. + +About nine o'clock Captain Fennel came home. He was gracious to the +visitors. Stella Featherston thought his manners were pleasing. Shortly +afterwards Charley Palliser called. He apologized for the lateness of +the hour, but his errand was a good-natured one. His aunt, Mrs. Hardy, +had received a box of delicious candied fruits from Marseilles; she had +sent him with a few to Mrs. Fennel, if that lady would kindly accept +them. The truth was, every one in Sainteville felt sorry just now for +poor Nancy Fennel. + +Nancy looked as delighted as a child. She called to Flore to bring +plates, turned out the fruits and handed them round. Flore also brought +in the gâteau Suisse and glasses, and a bottle of Picardin wine, that +the company might regale themselves. Charley Palliser suddenly spoke; he +had just thought of something. + +"Would it be too much trouble to give me back that book which I lent you +a week or two ago--about the plans of the fortifications?" he asked, +turning to Captain Fennel. "I want it sometimes for reference in my +studies." + +"Not at all; I ought to have returned it to you before this--but the +trouble here has driven other things out of my head," replied Captain +Fennel. "Let me see--where did I put it? Nancy, do you remember where +that book is?--the heavy one, you know, with red edges and a mottled +cover." + +"That book? Why, it is on the drawers in our bedroom," replied Nancy. + +"To be sure; I'll get it," said Captain Fennel. + +His wife called after him to bring down the dominoes also; some one +might like a game. The captain did not intend to take the trouble of +going himself; he meant to send Flore. But Flore was not in the kitchen, +and he took it for granted she was upstairs. In fact, Flore was in the +yard at the pump; but he never thought of the yard or the pump. Lighting +a candle, he strode upstairs. + +He was coming down again, the open box of dominoes and Charley +Palliser's book in one hand, the candlestick in the other, when the +same sort of thing seemed to occur which had occurred on Sunday night. +Hearing, as he thought, some one close behind him, almost treading, as +it were, upon his heels, and thinking it was Flore, he turned his head +round, intending to tell her to keep her distance. + +Then, with a frightful yell, down dashed Captain Fennel the few +remaining stairs, the book, the candlestick, and the box of dominoes +all falling in the passage from his nerveless hands. The dominoes were +hard and strong, and made a great crash. But it was the yell which had +frightened the company in the salon. + +They flocked out in doubt and wonder. The candle had gone out; and +Charley Palliser was bringing forth the lamp to light up the darkness, +when he was nearly knocked down by Captain Fennel. Flore, returning +from the pump with her own candle, much damaged by the air of the yard, +held it up to survey the scene. + +Captain Fennel swept past Charley into the salon, and threw himself +into a chair behind the door, after trying to dash it to; but they +were trooping in behind him. His breath was short, his terrified face +looked livid as one meet for the grave. + +"Why, what has happened to you, sir?" asked Charles, intensely +surprised. + +"Oh! he must have seen the thief again!" shrieked Nancy. + +"Shut the door; bolt it!" called out the stricken man. + +They did as they were bid. This order, as it struck them all, could +only have reference to keeping out some nefarious intruder, such as a +thief. Flore had followed them in, after picking up the débris. She +put the book and the dominoes on the table, and stood staring over her +mistress's shoulder. + +"Has the thief got in again, Edwin?" repeated Mrs. Fennel, who was +beginning to tremble. "Did you see him?--or hear him?" + +"My foot slipped; it sent me headforemost down the stairs," spoke the +captain at last, conscious, perhaps, that something must be said to +satisfy the inquisitive faces around him. "I heard Flore behind me, +and----" + +"Not me, sir," put in Flore in her best English. "I was not upstairs at +all; I was out at the pump. There is nobody upstairs, sir; there can't +be." But Captain Fennel only glared at her in answer. + +"What did you cry out at?" asked Charles Palliser, speaking soothingly, +for he saw that the man was pitiably unstrung. "Have you had a thief in +the house? Did you think you saw one?" + +"I saw no thief; there has been no thief in the house that I know of; I +tell you I slipped--and it startled me," retorted the captain, his tones +becoming savage. + +"Then--why did you have the door bolted, captain?" struck in Miss Stella +Featherston, who was extremely practical and matter-of-fact, and who +could not understand the scene at all. + +This time the captain glared at _her_. Only for a moment; a sickly smile +then stole over his countenance. + +"Somebody here talked about a thief: I said bolt him out," answered he. + +With this general explanation they had to be contented; but to none of +them did it sound natural or straightforward. + +Order was restored. The ladies took a glass of wine each and some of the +gâteau, which Flore handed round. Charles Palliser said good-night and +departed with his book. Captain Fennel went out at the same time. He +turned into the café on the Place Ronde, and drank three small glasses +of cognac in succession. + +"Nancy, what did you mean by talking about a thief?" began Madame +Carimon, the whole thing much exercising her mind. + +Upon which, Mrs. Fennel treated them all, including Flore, to an +elaborate account of her husband's fright on the Sunday night. + +"It was on the stairs; just as it was again now," she said. "He thought +he heard some one following behind him as he came up to bed. He fancied +it was Flore; but Flore had left hours before. I never saw any one show +such terror in all my life. He said it was Flore behind him to-night, +and you saw how terrified he was." + +"But if he took it to be Flore, why should he be frightened?" returned +Mary Carimon. + +"Pardon, mesdames, but it is the same argument I made bold to use to +madame," interposed Flore from the background, where she stood. "There +is not anything in me to give people fright." + +"I--think--it must have been," said Mrs. Fennel, speaking slowly, "that +he grew alarmed when he found it was not Flore he saw. Both times." + +"Then who was it that he did see--to startle him like that?" asked Mary +Carimon. + +"Why, he must have thought it was a thief," replied Nancy. "There's +nothing else for it." + +At this juncture the argument was brought to a close by the entrance of +Monsieur Jules Carimon, who had come to escort his wife and Stella +Featherston home. + +These curious attacks of terror were repeated; not often, but at a few +days' interval; so that at length Captain Fennel took care not to go +about the house alone in the dark. He went up to bed when his wife did; +he would not go to the door, if a ring came after Flore's departure, +without a light in his hand. By-and-by he improvised a lamp, which he +kept on the slab. + +What was it that he was scared at? An impression arose in the minds of +the two or three people who were privy to this, that he saw, or fancied +he saw, in the house the spectre of one who had just been carried out +of it, Lavinia Preen. Nancy had no such suspicion as yet; she only +thought her husband could not be well. She was much occupied about that +time, having at length nerved herself to the task of looking over her +poor sister's effects. + +One afternoon, when sitting in Lavinia's room (Flore--who stayed with +her for company--had run down to the kitchen to see that the dinner did +not burn), Nancy came upon a small, thin green case. Between its leaves +she found three one-hundred-franc notes--twelve pounds in English value. +She rightly judged that it was all that remained of her sister's +nest-egg, and that she had intended to take it with her to Boulogne. + +"Poor Lavinia!" she aspirated, the tears dropping from her eyes. "Every +farthing remaining of the quarter's money she left with me for +housekeeping." + +But now a thought came to Nancy. Placing the case on the floor near her, +intending to show it to her husband--she was sitting on a stool before +one of Lavinia's boxes--it suddenly occurred to her that it might be as +well to say nothing to him about it. He would be sure to appropriate the +money to his own private uses: and Nancy knew that she should need some +for hers. There would be her mourning to pay for; and---- + +The room-door was wide open, and at this point in her reflections Nancy +heard the captain enter the house with his latch-key, and march straight +upstairs. In hasty confusion, she thrust the little case into the +nearest hiding-place, which happened to be the front of her black dress +bodice. + +"Nancy, I have to go to England," cried the captain. "How hot you look! +Can't you manage to do that without stooping?" + +"To go to England!" repeated Nancy, lifting her flushed face. + +"Here's a letter from my brother; the postman gave it me as I was +crossing the Place Ronde. It's only a line or two," he added, tossing it +to her. "I must take this evening's boat." + +Nancy read the letter. Only a line or two, as he said, just telling the +captain to go over with all speed upon a pressing matter of business, +and that he could return before the week was ended. + +"Oh, but, Edwin, you can't go," began Nancy, in alarm. "I cannot stay +here by myself." + +"Not go! Why, I must go," he said very decisively. "How do I know what +it is that I am wanted for? Perhaps that property which we are always +expecting to fall in." + +"But I should be so lonely. I could not stay here alone." + +"Nonsense!" he sharply answered. "I shall not be away above one clear +day; two days at the furthest. This is Thursday, and I shall return by +Sunday's boat. You will only be alone to-morrow and Saturday." + +He turned away, thus putting an end to the discussion, and entered their +own room. As Nancy looked after him in despair, it suddenly struck her +how very thin and ill he had become; his face worn and grey. + +"He wants a change," she said to herself; "our trouble here has upset +him as much as it did me. I'll say no more; I must not be selfish. Poor +Lavinia used to warn me against selfishness." + +So Captain Fennel went off without further opposition, his wife +enjoining him to be sure to return on Sunday. The steamer was starting +that night at eight o'clock; it was a fine evening, and Nancy walked +down to the port with her husband and saw him on board. Nancy met an +acquaintance down there; no other than Charley Palliser. They strolled a +little in the wake of the departing steamer; Charley then saw her as far +as the Place Ronde, and there wished her good-night. + +And now an extraordinary thing happened. As Mrs. Fennel opened the door +with her latch-key, Flore having left, and was about to enter the dark +passage, the same curious and unaccountable terror seized her which had +been wont to attack Lavinia. Leaving the door wide open, she dashed up +the passage, felt for the match-box, and struck a light. Then, candle in +hand, she returned to shut the door; but her whole frame trembled with +fear. + +"Why, it's just what poor Lavinia felt!" she gasped. "What on earth +can it be? Why should it come to me? I will take care not to go out +to-morrow night or Saturday." + +And she held to her decision. Mrs. Hardy sent Charley Palliser to invite +her for either day, or both days; Mary Carimon sent Pauline with a note +to the same effect; but Nancy returned a refusal in both cases, with her +best thanks. + +The boat came in on Sunday night, but it did not bring Captain Fennel. +On the Sunday morning the post had brought Nancy a few lines from him, +saying he found the business on which he had been called to London was +of great importance, and he was obliged to remain another day or two. + +Nancy was frightfully put out: not only vexed, but angry. Edwin had no +business to leave her alone like that so soon after Lavinia's death. +She bemoaned her hard fate to several friends on coming out of church, +and Mrs. Smith carried her off to dinner. The major was not out that +morning--a twinge of gout in the right foot had kept him indoors. + +This involved Nancy's going home alone in the evening, for the major +could not walk with her. She did not like it. The same horror came over +her before opening the door. She entered somehow, and dashed into the +kitchen, hoping the stove was alight: a very silly hope, for Flore had +been gone since the afternoon. + +Nancy lighted the candle in the kitchen, and then fancied she saw some +one looking at her from the open kitchen-door. It looked like Lavinia. +It certainly _was_ Lavinia. Nancy stood spell-bound; then she gave a cry +of desperate horror and dropped the candlestick. + +How she picked it up she never knew; the light had not gone out. Nothing +was to be seen then. The apparition, if it had been one, had vanished. +She got up to bed somehow, and lay shivering under the bedclothes until +morning. + +Quite early, when Nancy was at breakfast, Madame Carimon came in. She +had already been to the fish-market, and came on to invite Nancy to her +house for the day, having heard that Mr. Fennel was still absent. With +a scared face and trembling lips, Nancy told her about the previous +night--the strange horror of entering which had begun to attack her, +the figure of Lavinia at the kitchen-door. + +Madame Carimon, listening gravely, took, or appeared to take, a sensible +view of it. "You have caught up this fear of entering the house, Nancy, +through remembering that it attacked poor Lavinia," she said. +"Impressionable minds--and yours is one of them--take fright just as +children catch measles. As to thinking you saw Lavinia----" + +"She had on the gown she wore the Sunday she was taken ill: her +silver-grey silk, you know," interrupted Nancy. "She looked at me with +a mournful, appealing gaze, just as if she wanted something." + +"Ay, you were just in the mood to fancy something of the kind," lightly +spoke Madame Carimon. "The fright of coming in had done that for you. +I dare say you had been talking of Lavinia at Major Smith's." + +"Well, so we had," confessed Nancy. + +"Just so; she was already on your mind, and therefore that and the +fright you were in caused you to fancy you saw her. Nancy, my dear, you +cannot imagine the foolish illusions our fancies play us." + +Easily persuaded, Mrs. Fennel agreed that it might have been so. She +strove to forget the matter, and went out there and then with Mary +Carimon. + +But this state of things was to continue. Captain Fennel did not return, +and Nancy grew frightened to death at being alone in the house after +dark. Flore was unable to stay longer than the time originally agreed +for, her old mother being dangerously ill. As dusk approached, Nancy +began to hate her destiny. Apart from nervousness, she was sociably +inclined, and yearned for company. Now and again the inclination to +accept an invitation was too strong to be resisted, or she went out +after dinner, uninvited, to this friend or that. But the pleasure was +counterbalanced by having to go in again at night; the horror clung to +her. + +If a servant attended her home, or any gentleman from the house where +she had been, she made them go indoors with her whilst she lighted her +candle; once she got Monsieur Gustave's errand-boy to do so. But it was +almost as bad with the lighted candle--the first feeling of being in +the lonely house after they had gone. She wrote letter after letter, +imploring her husband to return. Captain Fennel's replies were rich in +promises: he would be back the very instant business permitted; probably +"to-morrow, or the next day." But he did not come. + +One Sunday, when he had been gone about three weeks, and Nancy had been +spending the day in the Rue Pomme Cuite, Mary Carimon walked home with +her in the evening. Monsieur Jules had gone to see his cousin off by the +nine-o'clock train--Mademoiselle Priscille Carimon, who had come in to +spend the day with them. She lived at Drecques. + +"You will come in with me, Mary?" said Ann Fennel, as they gained the +door. + +"To be sure I will," replied Madame Carimon, laughing lightly, for none +knew about the fears better than she. + +Nancy took her hand as they went up the passage. She lighted the +candle at the slab, and they went into the salon. Madame Carimon sat +down for a few minutes, by way of reassuring her. Nancy took off her +bonnet and mantle. On the table was a small tray with the tea-things +upon it. Flore had left it there in readiness, not quite certain +whether her mistress would come in to tea or not. + +"I had such a curious dream last night," began Nancy; "those tea-things +put me in mind of it. Lavinia----" + +"For goodness' sake don't begin upon dreams to-night!" interposed Madame +Carimon. "You know they always frighten you." + +"Oh, but this was a pleasant dream, Mary. I thought that I and Lavinia +were seated at a little table, with two teacups between us full of tea. +The cups were very pretty; pale amber with gilt scrolls, and the china +so thin as to be transparent. I can see them now. And Lavinia said +something which made me smile; but I don't remember what it was. Ah, +Mary! if she were only back again with us!" + +"She is better off, you know," said Mary Carimon in tender tones. + +"All the same, it was a cruel fate that took her; I shall never think +otherwise. I wish I knew what it was she died of! Flore told me one day +that Monsieur Podevin quite laughed at the idea of its being a chill." + +"Well, Nancy, it was you who stopped it, you know." + +"Stopped what?" asked Nancy. + +"The investigation the doctors would have made after death. Both of them +were much put out at your forbidding it: for their own satisfaction they +wished to ascertain particulars. I may tell you now that I thought you +were wrong to interfere." + +"It was Captain Fennel," said Nancy calmly. + +"Captain Fennel!" echoed Mary Carimon. "Monsieur Dupuis told me that +Captain Fennel wished for it as much as he and Monsieur Podevin." + +Captain Fennel's wife shook her head. "They asked him about it before +they left, after she died. He came to me, and I said, Oh, let them do +what they would; it could not hurt her now she was dead. I was in such +terrible distress, Mary, that I hardly knew or cared what I said. Then +Edwin drew so dreadful a picture of what post-mortems are, and how +barbarously her poor neck and arms would be cut and slashed, that I grew +sick and frightened." + +"And so you stopped it--by reason of the picture he drew?" + +"Yes. I came running down here to Monsieur Dupuis--Monsieur Podevin had +gone--for Edwin said it must be my decision, not his, and his name had +better not be mentioned; and I begged and prayed Monsieur Dupuis not to +hold it. I think I startled him, good old man. I was almost out of my +mind; quite wild with agitation; and he promised me it should be as I +wished. That's how it all was, Mary." + +Mary Carimon's face wore a curious look. Then she rallied, speaking even +lightly. + +"Well, well; it could not have brought her back to life; and I repeat +that we must remember she is better off. And now, Nancy, I want you to +show me the pretty purse that Miss Perry has knitted for you, if you +have it at hand." + +Nancy rose, opened her workbox, which stood on the side-table, and +brought forth the purse. Of course Madame Carimon's motive had been to +change her thoughts. After admiring the purse, and talking of other +pleasant matters, Mary took her departure. + +And the moment the outer door had closed upon her that feeling of terror +seized upon Nancy. Catching up her mantle with one hand and the candle +with the other, she made for the staircase, leaving her bonnet and +gloves in the salon. The staircase struck cold to her, and she could +hear the wind whistling, for it was a windy night. As to the candle, it +seemed to burn with a pale flame and not to give half its usual light. + +In her nervous agitation, just as she gained the uppermost stair, she +dropped her mantle. Raising her head from stooping to pick it up, she +suddenly saw some figure before her at the end of the passage. It stood +beyond the door of her own room, close to that which had been her +sister's. + +It was Lavinia. She appeared to be habited in the silver-grey silk +already spoken of. Her gaze was fixed upon Nancy, with the same +imploring aspect of appeal, as if she wanted something; her pale face +was inexpressibly mournful. With a terrible cry, Nancy tore into her own +room, the mantle trailing after her. She shut the door and bolted it, +and buried her face in the counterpane in wild agony. + +And in that moment a revelation came to Ann Fennel. It was this +apparition which had been wont to haunt her husband in the house and +terrify him beyond control. Not a thief; not Flore--but Lavinia! + + +XV. + +On the Monday morning Flore found her mistress in so sick and suffering +and strange a state, that she sent for Madame Carimon. In vain Mary +Carimon, after hearing Nancy's tale, strove to convince her that what +she saw was fancy, the effect of diseased nerves. Nancy was more +obstinate than a mule. + +"What I saw was Lavinia," she shivered. "Lavinia's apparition. No good +to tell me it was not; I have seen it now twice. It was as clear and +evident to me, both times, as ever she herself was in life. That's what +Edwin used to see; I know it now; and he became unable to bear the +house. I seem to read it all as in a book, Mary. He got his brother to +send for him, and he is staying away because he dreads to come back +again. But you know I cannot stay here alone now." + +Madame Carimon wrote off at once to Captain Fennel, Nancy supplying +the address. She told him that his wife was ill; in a nervous state; +fancying she saw Lavinia in the house. Such a report, she added, should +if possible be kept from spreading to the town, and therefore she must +advise him to return without delay. + +The letter brought back Captain Fennel, Flore having meanwhile +remained entirely at the Petite Maison Rouge. Perhaps the captain did +not in secret like that little remark of its being well to keep it +from the public; he may have considered it suggestive, coming from +Mary Carimon. He believed she read him pretty correctly, and he hated +her accordingly. Any way, he deemed it well to be on the spot. Left +to herself, there was no telling what ridiculous things Nancy might be +saying or fancying. + +Edwin Fennel did not return alone. His brother's wife was with him. Mrs. +James, they called her, James being the brother's Christian name. Mrs. +James was not a lady in herself or in manner; but she was lively and +very good-natured, and these qualities were what the Petite Maison Rouge +wanted in it just now; and perhaps that was Captain Fennel's motive +in bringing her. Nancy was delighted. She almost forgot her fears +and fancies. Flore was agreeable also, for she was now at liberty to +return to ordinary arrangements. Thus there was a lull in the storm. +They walked out with Mrs. James on the pier, and took her to see the +different points of interest in the town; they even gave a little soirée +for her, and in return were invited to other houses. + +One day, when the two ladies were gossiping together, Nancy, in the +openness of her heart, related to Mrs. James the particulars of +Lavinia's unexpected and rather mysterious death, and of her appearing +in the house again after it. Captain Fennel disturbed them in the midst +of the story. His wife was taking his name in vain at the moment of his +entrance, saying how scared _he_ had been at the apparition. + +"Hold your peace, you foolish woman!" he thundered, looking as if +he meant to strike her. "Don't trouble Mrs. James's head with such +miserable rubbish as that." + +Mrs. James did not appear to mind it. She burst into a hearty laugh. She +never had seen a ghost, she said, and was sure she never should; there +were no such things. But she should like to hear all about poor Miss +Preen's death. + +"There was nothing else to hear," the captain growled. "She caught a +chill on the Sunday, coming out of the hot church after morning service. +It struck inwardly, bringing on inflammation, which the medical men +could not subdue." + +"But you know, Edwin, the church never is hot, and you know the doctors +decided it was not a chill. Monsieur Podevin especially denied it," +dissented Nancy, who possessed about as much insight as a goose, and a +little less tact. + +"Then what did she die of?" questioned Mrs. James. "Was she poisoned?" + +"Oh, how can you suggest so dreadful a thing!" shrieked Nancy. +"Poisoned! Who would be so wicked as to poison Lavinia? Every one loved +her." + +Which again amused the listening lady. "You have a quick imagination, +Mrs. Edwin," she laughed. "I was thinking of mushrooms." + +"And I of tinned meats and copper saucepans," supplemented Captain +Fennel. "However, there could be no suspicion even of that sort in +Lavinia's case, since she had touched nothing but what we all partook +of. She died of inflammation, Mrs. James." + +"Little doubt of it," acquiesced Mrs. James. "A friend of mine went, not +twelve months ago, to a funeral at Brompton Cemetery; the ground was +damp, and she caught a chill. In four days she was dead." + +"Women have no business at funerals," growled Edwin Fennel. "Why should +they parade their grief abroad? You see nothing of the kind in France." + +"In truth I think you are not far wrong," said Mrs. James. "It is a +fashion which has sprung up of late. A few years ago it was as much +unknown with us as it is with the French." + +"_They_ will be catching it up next, I suppose," retorted the captain, +as if the thing were a personal grievance to him. + +"Little doubt of it," laughed Mrs. James. + +After staying at Sainteville for a month, Mrs. James Fennel took her +departure for London. Captain Fennel proposed to escort her over; but +his wife went into so wild a state at the mere mention of it, that he +had to give it up. + +"I dare not stay in the house by myself, Edwin," she shuddered. "I +should go to the Vice-Consul and to other influential people here, and +tell them of my misery--that I am afraid of seeing Lavinia." + +And Captain Fennel believed she would be capable of doing it. So he +remained with her. + +That the spectre of the dead-and-gone Lavinia did at times appear to +them, or else their fancies conjured up the vision, was all too certain. +Three times during the visit of Mrs. James the captain had been betrayed +into one of his fits of terror: no need to ask what had caused it. +After her departure the same thing took place. Nancy had not again seen +anything, but she knew he had. + +"We shall not be able to stay in the house, Edwin," his wife said to him +one evening when they were sitting in the salon at dusk after Flore's +departure; nothing having led up to the remark. + +"I fancy we should be as well out of it," replied he. + +"Oh, Edwin, let us go! If we can! There will be all the rent to pay up +first." + +"All the what?" said he. + +"The rent," repeated Nancy; "up to the end of the term we took it for. +About three years longer, I think, Edwin. That would be sixty pounds." + +"And where do you suppose the sixty pounds would come from?" + +"I don't know. There's the impediment, you see," remarked Nancy blankly. +"We cannot leave without paying up." + +"Unless we made a moonlight flitting of it, my dear." + +"That I never will," she rejoined, with a firmness he could not mistake. +"You are only jesting, Edwin." + +"It would be no jesting matter to pay up that claim, and others; for +there are others. Our better plan, Nancy, will be to go off by the +London boat some night, and not let any one know where we are until I +can come back to pay. You may see it is the only thing to be done, and +you must bring your mind to it." + +"Never by me," said Nancy, strong in her innate rectitude. "As to hiding +ourselves anywhere, that can never be; I should not conceal my address +from Mary Carimon--I _could_ not conceal it from Colonel Selby." + +Captain Fennel ground his teeth. "Suppose I say that this shall be, that +we will go, and order you to obey me? What then?" + +"No, Edwin, I could not. I should go in to Monsieur Gustave Sauvage, +and say to him, 'We were thinking of running away, but I cannot do it; +please put me in prison until I can pay the debt.' And then----" + +"Are you an idiot?" asked Captain Fennel, staring at her. + +"And then, when I was in prison," went on Nancy, "I should write to tell +William Selby; and perhaps he would come over and release me. Please +don't talk in this kind of way again, Edwin. I should keep my word." + +Mr. Edwin Fennel could not have felt more astounded had his wife then +and there turned into a dromedary before his eyes. She had hitherto been +tractable as a child. But he had never tried her in a thing that touched +her honour, and he saw that the card which he had intended to play was +lost. + +Captain Fennel played another. He went away himself. + +Making the best he could of the house and its haunted state (though day +by day saw him looking more and more like a walking skeleton) throughout +the greater part of June, for the summer had come in, he despatched +his wife to Pontipette one market day--Saturday--to remain there until +the following Wednesday. Old Mrs. Hardy had gone to the homely but +comfortable hotel at Pontipette for a change, and she wrote to invite +Nancy to stay a short time with her. Charles Palliser was in England. +Captain Fennel proceeded to London by that same Saturday night's boat, +armed with a letter from his wife to Colonel Selby, requesting the +colonel to pay over to her husband her quarterly instalment instead of +sending it to herself. Captain Fennel had bidden her do this; and Nancy, +of strict probity in regard to other people's money, could not resist +signing over her own. + +"But you will be sure to bring it all back, won't you, Edwin? and to be +here by Wednesday, the day I return?" she said to him. + +"Why, of course I shall, my dear." + +"It will be a double portion now--thirty-five pounds." + +"And a good thing, too; we shall want it," he returned. + +"Indeed, yes; there's such a heap of things owing for," concluded Nancy. + +Thus the captain went over to England in great glee, carrying with him +the order for the money. But he was reckoning without his host. + +Upon presenting himself at the bank in the City on Monday morning, he +found Colonel Selby absent; not expected to return before the end of +that week, or the beginning of the next. This was a check for Captain +Fennel. He quite glared at the gentleman who thus informed him--Mr. +West, who sat in the colonel's room, and was his locum tenens for the +time being. + +"Business is transacted all the same, I conclude?" said he snappishly. + +"Why, certainly," replied Mr. West, marvelling at the absurdity of the +question. "What can I do for you?" + +Captain Fennel produced his wife's letter, requesting that her quarter's +money should be paid over to him, and handed in her receipt for the +same. Mr. West read them both, the letter twice, and then looked direct +through his silver-rimmed spectacles at the applicant. + +"I cannot do this," said he; "it is a private matter of Colonel +Selby's." + +"It is not more private than any other payment you may have to make," +retorted Captain Fennel. + +"Pardon me, it is. This really does not concern the bank at all. I +cannot pay it without Colonel Selby's authority: he has neither given it +nor mentioned it to me. Another thing: the payment, as I gather from the +wording of Mrs. Ann Fennel's letter, is not yet due. Upon that score, +apart from any other, I should decline to pay it." + +"It will be due in two or three days. Colonel Selby would not object to +forestall the time by that short period." + +"That would, of course, be for the colonel's own consideration." + +"I particularly wish to receive the money this morning." + +Mr. West shook his head in answer. "If you will leave Mrs. Fennel's +letter and receipt in my charge, sir, I will place them before the +colonel as soon as he returns. That is all I can do. Or perhaps you +would prefer to retain the latter," he added, handing back the receipt +over the desk. + +"Business men are the very devil to stick at straws," muttered Captain +Fennel under his breath. He saw it was no use trying to move the one +before him, and went out, saying he would call in a day or two. + +Now it happened that Colonel Selby, who was only staying at Brighton for +a rest (for he had been very unwell of late), took a run up to town that +same Monday morning to see his medical attendant. His visit paid, he +went on to the bank, surprising Mr. West there about one o'clock. After +some conference upon business matters, Mr. West spoke of Captain +Fennel's visit, and handed over the letter he had left. + +Colonel Selby drew in his lips as he read it. He did not like Mr. Edwin +Fennel; and he would most assuredly not pay Ann Fennel's money to him. +He returned the letter to Mr. West. + +"Should the man come here again, West, tell him, as you did this +morning, that he can see me on my return--which will probably be on +this day week," said the colonel. "No need to say I have been up here +to-day." + +And on the following day, Tuesday, Colonel Selby, being then at +Brighton, drew out a cheque for the quarter almost due and sent it by +post to Nancy at Sainteville. + +Thus checkmated in regard to the money, Captain Fennel did not return +home at the time he promised, even if he had had any intention of doing +so. When Nancy returned to Sainteville on the Wednesday from Pontipette, +he was not there. The first thing she saw waiting for her on the table +was Colonel Selby's letter containing the cheque for five-and-thirty +pounds. + +"How glad I am it has come to me so soon!" cried Nancy; "I can pay the +bills now. I suppose William Selby thinks it would not be legal to pay +it to Edwin." + +The week went on. Each time a boat came in, Nancy was promenading the +port, expecting to see her husband land from it. On the Sunday morning +Nancy received a letter from him, in which he told her he was waiting +to see Colonel Selby, to get the money paid to him. Nancy wrote back +hastily, saying it had been received by herself, and that she had paid +it nearly all away in settling the bills. She begged him to come back +by the next boat. Flore was staying in the house altogether, but at an +inconvenience. + +On the Monday evening Mrs. Fennel had another desperate fright. She +went to take tea with an elderly lady and her daughter, Mrs. and Miss +Lambert, bidding Flore to come for her at half-past nine o'clock. +Half-past nine came, but no Flore; ten o'clock came, and then Mrs. +Fennel set off alone, supposing Flore had misunderstood her and would +be found waiting for her at home. The moonlit streets were crowded with +promenaders returning from their summer evening walk upon the pier. + +Nancy rang the bell; but it was not answered. She had her latch-key in +her pocket, but preferred to be admitted, and she rang again. No one +came. "Flore must have dropped asleep in the kitchen," she petulantly +thought, and drew out her key. + +"Flore!" she called out, pushing the door back. "Flore, where are you?" + +Flore apparently was nowhere, very much to the dismay of Mrs. Fennel. +She would have to go in alone, all down the dark passage, and wake her +up. Leaving the door wide open, she advanced in the dark with cautious +steps, the old terror full upon her. + +The kitchen was dark also, so far as fire or candlelight went, but a +glimmer of moonlight shone in at the window. "Are you not here, Flore?" +shivered Nancy. But there was no response. + +Groping for the match-box on the mantel-shelf over the stove, and not at +once finding it, Nancy suddenly took up an impression that some one was +standing in the misty rays of the moon. Gazing attentively, it seemed to +assume the shadowy form of Lavinia. And with a shuddering cry Nancy +Fennel fell down upon the brick floor of the kitchen. + + +XVI. + +It was a lovely summer's day, and Madame Carimon's neat little slip of a +kitchen was bright and hot with the morning sun. Madame, herself, stood +before the paste-board, making a green-apricot tart. Of pies and tarts à +la mode Anglaise, Monsieur Jules was more fond than a schoolboy; and of +all tarts known to the civilized world, none can equal that of a green +apricot. + +Madame had put down the rolling-pin, and stood for the moment idle, +looking at Flore Pamart, and listening to something that Flore was +saying. Flore, whisking out of the Petite Maison Rouge a few minutes +before, ostensibly to do her morning's marketings, had whisked straight +off to the Rue Pomme Cuite, and was now seated at the corner of the +pastry-table, telling a story to Madame Carimon. + +"It was madame's own fault," she broke off in her tale to remark. +"Madame _will_ give me her orders in French, and half the time I can't +understand them. She had an engagement to take tea at Madame Smith's +in the Rue Lambeau, was what I thought she said to me, and that I must +present myself there at half-past nine to walk home with her. Well, +madame, I went accordingly, and found nobody at home there but the +bonne, Thomasine. Her master was dining out at the Sous-préfet's, and +her mistress had gone out with some more ladies to walk on the pier, as +it was so fine an evening. Naturally I thought my mistress was one of +the ladies, and sat there waiting for her and chatting with Thomasine. +Madame Smith came in at ten o'clock, and then she said that my lady had +not been there and that she had not expected her." + +"She must have gone to tea elsewhere," observed Madame Carimon. + +"Clearly, madame; as I afterwards found. It was to Madame Lambert's, in +the Rue Lothaire, that I ought to have gone. I could only go home, as +madame sees; and when I arrived there I found the house-door wide open. +Just as I entered, a frightful cry came from the kitchen, and there I +found her dropped down on the floor, half senseless with terror. Madame, +she avowed to me that she had seen Mademoiselle Lavinia standing near +her in the moonlight." + +Madame Carimon took up her rolling-pin slowly before she spoke. "I know +she has a fancy that she appears in the house." + +"Madame Carimon, I think she _is_ in the house," said Flore solemnly. +And for a minute or two Madame Carimon rolled her paste in silence. + +"Monsieur Fennel used to see her--I am sure he did--and now his wife +sees her," went on the woman. "I think that is the secret of his running +away so much: he can't bear the house and what is haunting it." + +"It is altogether a dreadful thing; I lie awake thinking of it," +bewailed Mary Carimon. + +"But it cannot be let go on like this," said Flore; "and that's what +has brought me running here this morning--to ask you, madame, whether +anything can be done. If she is left alone to see these sights, she'll +die of it. When she got up this morning she was shivering like a leaf in +the wind. Has madame noticed that she is wasting away? For the matter of +that, so was Monsieur Fennel." + +Madame Carimon, beginning to line her shallow dish with paste, nodded in +assent. "He ought to be here with her," she remarked. + +"Catch him," returned Flore, in a heat. "Pardon, madame, but I must avow +I trust not that gentleman. He is no good. He will never come back to +stay at the house so long as there is in it--what is there. He dare +not; and I would like to ask him why not. A man with the conscience at +ease could not be that sort of coward. Honest men do not fly away, all +scared, when they fancy they see a revenant." + +Deeming it might be unwise to pursue the topic from this point, Madame +Carimon said she would go and see Mrs. Fennel in the course of the day, +and Flore clattered off, her wooden shoes echoing on the narrow pavement +of the Rue Pomme Cuite. + +But, as Madame Carimon was crossing the Place Ronde in the afternoon to +pay her visit, she met Mrs. Fennel. Of course, Flore's communication was +not to be mentioned. + +"Ah," said Madame Carimon readily, "is it you? I was coming to ask +if you would like to take a walk on the pier with me. It is a lovely +afternoon, and not too hot." + +"Oh, I'll go," said Nancy. "I came out because it is so miserable at +home. When Flore went off to the fish-market after breakfast, I felt +more lonely than you would believe. Mary," dropping her voice, "I saw +Lavinia last night." + +"Now I won't listen to that," retorted Mary Carimon, as if she were +reprimanding a child. "Once give in to our nerves and fancies, there's +no end to the tricks they play us. I wish, Ann, your house were in a +more lively situation, where you might sit at the window and watch the +passers-by." + +"But it isn't," said Nancy sensibly. "It looks upon nothing but the +walls." + +Walking on, they sat down upon a bench that stood back from the port, +facing the harbour. Nearly opposite lay the English boat, busily loading +for London. The sight made Nancy sigh. + +"I wish it would bring Edwin the next time it comes in," she said in low +tones. + +"When do you expect him?" + +"I don't know _when_," said poor Nancy with emphasis. "Mary, I am +beginning to think he stays away because he is afraid of seeing +Lavinia." + +"Men are not afraid of those foolish things, Ann." + +"He is. Recollect those fits of terror he had. He used to hear her +following him up and downstairs; used to see her on the landings." + +Madame Carimon found no ready answer. She had witnessed one of those +fits of terror herself. + +"Last night," went on Mrs. Fennel, after a pause, "when Flore had left +me and I could only shiver in my bed, and not expect to sleep, I became +calm enough to ask myself _why_ Lavinia should come back again, and what +it is she wants. Can you think why, Mary?" + +"Not I," said Madame Carimon lightly. "I shall only believe she does +come when she shows herself to me." + +"And I happened on the thought that, possibly, she may be wanting us to +inquire into the true cause of her death. It might have been ascertained +at the time, but for my stopping the action of the doctors, you know." + +"Ann, my dear, you should exercise a little common sense. I would ask +you what end ascertaining it now would answer, to her, dead, or to you, +living?" + +"It might be seen that she could have been cured, had we only known what +the malady was." + +"But you did not know; the doctors did not know. It could only have been +discovered, even at your showing, after her death, not in time to save +her." + +"I wish Monsieur Dupuis had come more quickly on the Monday night!" +sighed Nancy. "I am always wishing it. You can picture what it was, +Mary--Lavinia lying in that dreadful agony and no doctor coming near +her. Edwin was gone so long--so long! He could not wake up Monsieur +Dupuis. I think now that the bell was out of order." + +"Why do you think that now? Captain Fennel must have known whether the +bell answered to his summons, or not." + +"Well," returned Nancy, "this morning when Flore returned with the fish, +she said I looked very ill. She had just seen Monsieur Dupuis in the +Place Ronde, and she ran out again and brought him in----" + +"Did you mention to him this fancy of seeing Lavinia?" hastily +interrupted Madame Carimon. + +"No, no; I don't talk of that to people. Only to you and Flore; +and--yes--I did tell Mrs. Smith. I let Monsieur Dupuis think I was ill +with grieving after Lavinia, and we talked a little about her. I said +how I wished he could have been here sooner on the Monday night, and +that my husband had rung several times before he could arouse him. +Monsieur Dupuis said that was a mistake; he had got up and come as soon +as he was called; he was not asleep at the time, and the bell had rung +only once." + +"What an extraordinary thing!" exclaimed Mary Carimon. "I know your +husband said he rang many times." + +"That's why I now think the bell must have been out of order; but I did +not say so to Monsieur Dupuis," returned Nancy. "He is a kind old man, +and it would grieve him: for of course we know doctors _ought_ to keep +their door-bells in order." + +Madame Carimon rose in silence, but full of thought, and they continued +their walk. It was low water in the harbour, but the sun was sparkling +and playing on the waves out at sea. On the pier they found Rose and +Anna Bosanquet; and in chatting with them Nancy's mood became more +cheerful. + +That same evening, on that same pier, Mary Carimon spoke a few +confidential words to her husband. They sat at the end of it, and the +beauty of the night, so warm and still, induced them to linger. The +bright moon sailed grandly in the heavens and glittered upon the +water that now filled the harbour, for the tide was in. Most of the +promenaders had turned down the pier again, after watching out the +steamer. What a fine passage she would make, and was making, cutting +there so smoothly through the crystal sea! + +Mary Carimon began in a low voice, though no one was near to listen and +the waves could not hear her. She spoke pretty fully of a haunting doubt +that lay upon her mind, as to whether Lavinia had died a natural death. + +"If we make the best of it," she concluded, "her dying in that strangely +sudden way was unusual; you know that, Jules; quite unaccountable. It +never _has_ been accounted for." + +Monsieur Jules, gazing on the gentle waves as they rose and fell in the +moonlight at the mouth of the harbour, answered nothing. + +"He had so much to wish her away for, that man: all the money would +become Nancy's. And I'm sure there was secret enmity between them--on +both sides. Don't you see, Jules, how suspicious it all looks?" + +The moonbeams, illumining Monsieur Jules Carimon's face, showed it to be +very impassive, betraying no indication that he as much as heard what +his wife was talking about. + +"I have not forgotten, I can never forget, Jules, the very singular +Fate-reading, or whatever you may please to call it, spoken by the +Astrologer Talcke last winter at Miss Bosanquet's soirée. You were not +in the room, you know, but I related it to you when we arrived home. +He certainly foretold Lavinia's death, as I, recalling the words, look +upon it now. He said there was some element of evil in their house, +threatening and terrible; he repeated it more than once. _In their +house_, Jules, and that it would end in darkness; which, as every one +understood, meant death: not for Mrs. Fennel; he took care to tell her +that; but for another. He said the cards were more fateful than he had +ever seen them. That evil in the house was Fennel." + +Still Monsieur Jules offered no comment. + +"And what could be the meaning of those dreams Lavinia had about him, in +which he always seemed to be preparing to inflict upon her some fearful +ill, and she knew she never could and never would escape from it?" ran +on Mary Carimon, her eager, suppressed tones bearing a gruesome sound +in the stillness of the night. "And what is the explanation of the fits +of terror which have shaken Fennel since the death, fancying he sees +Lavinia? Flore said to me this morning that she is sure Lavinia is in +the house." + +Glancing at her husband to see that he was at least listening, but +receiving no confirmation of it by word or motion, Mary Carimon +continued: + +"Those dreams came to warn her, Jules. To warn her to get out of the +house while she could. And she made arrangements to go, and in another +day or two would have been away in safety. But he was too quick for +her." + +Monsieur Jules Carimon turned now to face his wife. "Mon amie, tais +toi," said he with authority. "Such a topic is not convenable," he +added, still in French, though she had spoken in English. "It is +dangerous." + +"But, Jules, I believe it _to have been so_." + +"All the same, and whether or no, it is not your affair, Marie. Neither +must you make it so. Believe me, my wife, the only way to live peaceably +ourselves in the world is to let our neighbours' sins alone." + + +XVII. + +Captain Edwin Fennel was certainly in no hurry to return to Sainteville, +for he did not come. Nancy, ailing, weak, wretchedly uncomfortable, +wrote letter after letter to him, generally sending them over by some +friend or other who might be crossing, to be put in a London letter-box, +and so evade the foreign postage. Once or twice she had written to Mrs. +James, telling of her lonely life and that she wanted Edwin either to +take her out of the dark and desolate house, or else to come back to +it himself. Captain Fennel would answer now and again, promising to +come--she would be quite sure to see him on one of the first boats if +she looked out for their arrival. Nancy did look, but she had not yet +seen him. She was growing visibly thinner and weaker. Sainteville said +how ill Mrs. Fennel was looking. + +One evening at the end of July, when the London steamer was due about +ten o'clock, Nancy went to watch it in, as usual, Flore attending her. +The port was gay, crowded with promenaders. There had been a concert at +the Rooms, and the company was coming home from it. Mrs. Fennel had not +made one: latterly she had felt no spirit for amusement. Several friends +met her; she did not tell them she had come down to meet her husband, if +haply he should be on the expected boat; she had grown tired and half +ashamed of saying that; she let them think she was only out for a walk +that fine evening. There was a yellow glow still in the sky where the +sun had set; the north-west was clear and bright with its opal light. + +The time went on; the port became deserted, excepting a few passing +stragglers. Ten o'clock had struck, eleven would soon strike. Flore and +her mistress, tired of pacing about, sat down on one of the benches +facing the harbour. One of two young men, passing swiftly homewards from +the pier, found himself called to. + +"Charley! Charley Palliser!" + +Charles turned, and recognized Mrs. Fennel. Stepping across to her, he +shook hands. + +"What do you think can have become of the boat?" she asked. "It ought to +have been in nearly an hour ago." + +"Oh, it will be here shortly," he replied. "The boat often makes a slow +passage when there's no wind. What little wind we have had to-day has +been dead against it." + +"As I've just said to madame," put in Flore, always ready to take up +the conversation. "Mr. Charles knows there's no fear it has gone down, +though it may be a bit late." + +"Why, certainly not," laughed Charley. "Are you waiting here for it, +Mrs. Fennel?" + +"Ye--s," she answered, but with hesitation. + +"And as it's not even in sight yet, madame had much better go home and +not wait, for the air is getting chilly," again spoke Flore. + +"We can't see whether it's in sight or not," said her mistress. "It is +dark out at sea." + +"Shall I wait here with you, Mrs. Fennel?" asked Charley in his good +nature. + +"Oh no, no; no, thank you," she answered quickly. "If it does not come +in soon, we shall go home." + +He wished them good-night, and went onwards. + +"She is hoping the boat may bring that mysterious brute, Fennel," +remarked Charles to his companion. + +"Brute, you call him?" + +"He is no better than one, to leave his sick wife alone so long," +responded Charles in hearty tones. "She has picked up an idea, I hear, +that the house is haunted, and shakes in her shoes in it from morning +till night." + +The two watchers sat on, Flore grumbling. Not for herself, but for her +mistress. A sea-fog was rising, and Flore thought madame might take +cold. Mrs. Fennel wrapped her light fleecy shawl closer about her chest, +and protested she was quite hot. The shawl was well enough for a warm +summer's night, but not for a cold sea-fog. About half-past eleven there +suddenly loomed into view through the mist the lights of the steamer, +about to enter the harbour. + +"There she is!" exultingly cried Nancy, who had been shivering inwardly +for some time past, and doing her best not to shiver outwardly for fear +of Flore. "And now, Flore, you go home as quickly as you can and make a +fire in the salon to warm us. I'm sure he will need one--at sea in this +cold fog." + +"If he is come," mentally returned Flore in her derisive heart. She had +no faith in the return of Monsieur Fennel by any boat, a day or a night +one. But she needed no second prompting to hasten away; was too glad to +do it. + +Poor Nancy waited on. The steamer came very slowly up the port, or +she fancied so; one must be cautious in a fog; and it seemed to her a +long time swinging round and settling itself into its place. Then the +passengers came on shore one by one, Nancy standing close to look at +them. There were only about twenty in all, and Captain Fennel was not +one of them. With misty eyes and a rising in her throat and spiritless +footsteps, Nancy arrived at her home, the Petite Maison Rouge. Flore had +the fire burning in the salon; but Nancy was too thoroughly chilled for +any salon fire to warm her. + +The cold she caught that night stuck to her chest. For some days +afterwards she was very ill indeed. Monsieur Dupuis attended her, and +brought his son once or twice, Monsieur Henri. Nancy got up again, and +was, so to say, herself once more; but she did not get up her strength. + +She would lie on the sofa in the salon those August days, which were +very hot ones, too languid to get off it. Friends would call in to see +her; Major and Mrs. Smith, the Miss Bosanquets, the Lamberts, and so on. +Madame Carimon was often there. They would ask her why she did not "make +an effort" and sit up and occupy herself with a book or a bit of work, +or go out a little; and Nancy's answer was nearly always the same--she +would do all that when the weather was somewhat cooler. Charley Palliser +was quite a constant visitor. An English damsel, who was casting a +covetous eye to Charles, though she might have spared herself the pains, +took a fit of jealousy and said one might think sick Nancy Fennel was +his sweetheart, going there so often. Charley rarely went empty-handed +either. Now it would be half-a-dozen nectarines in their red-ripe +loveliness, now some choice peaches, then a bunch of hot-house grapes, +"purple and gushing," and again an amusing novel just out in England. + + * * * * * + +"Mary, she is surely dying!" + +The sad exclamation came from Stella Featherston. She and Madame +Carimon, going in to take tea at the Petite Maison Rouge, had been sent +by its mistress to her chamber above to take off their bonnets. The +words had broken from Stella the moment they were alone. + +"Sometimes I fear it myself," replied Madame Carimon. "She certainly +grows weaker instead of stronger." + +"Does any doctor attend her?" + +"Monsieur Dupuis; a man of long experience, kind and clever. I was +talking to him the other day, and he as good as said his skill and care +seemed to avail nothing: were wasted on her." + +"Is it consumption?" + +"I think not. She caught a dreadful cold about a month ago through being +out in a night fog, thinly clad; and there's no doubt it left mischief +behind; but it seems to me that she is wasting away with inward fever." + +"I should get George to run over to see her, if I were you, Mary," +remarked Stella. "French doctors are very clever, I believe, especially +as surgeons; but for an uncertain case like this they don't come up to +the English. And George knows her constitution." + +They went down to the salon, Mary Carimon laughing a little at the +remark. Stella Featherston had not been long enough in France to part +with her native prejudices. The family with whom she lived in Paris had +journeyed to Sainteville for a month for what they called "les eaux," +and Stella accompanied them. They were in lodgings on the port. + +Mrs. Fennel seemed more like her old self that evening than she had been +for some time past. The unexpected presence of her companion of early +days changed the tone of her mind and raised her spirits. Stella exerted +all her mirth, talked of their doings in the past, told of Buttermead's +doings in the present. Nancy was quite gay. + +"Do you ever sing now, Stella?" she suddenly asked. + +"Why, no," laughed Stella, "unless I am quite alone. Who would care to +hear old ditties sung without music?" + +"I should. Oh, Stella, sing me a few!" urged the invalid, her tone quite +imploring. "It would bring the dear old days back to me." + +Stella Featherston had a most melodious voice, but she did not play. +It was not unusual in those days for girls to sing without any +accompaniment, as Stella had for the most part done. + +"Have you forgotten your Scotch songs, Stella?" asked Mary Carimon. + +"Not I; I like them best of all," replied Miss Featherston. And without +more ado she broke into "Ye banks and braes." + +It was followed by "The Banks of Allan Water," and others. Flore stole +to the parlour-door, and thought she had never heard so sweet a singer. +Last of all, Stella began a quaint song that was more of a chant than +anything else, low and subdued: + + "Woe's me, for my heart is breakin', + I think on my brither sma', + And on my sister greetin', + When I cam' from home awa'. + And O, how my mither sobbit, + As she took from me her hand, + When I left the door of our old house + To come to this stranger land. + + "There's nae place like our ain home, + O, I would that I were there! + There's nae home like our ain home + To be met wi' onywhere. + And O, that I were back again + To our farm and fields sae green, + And heard the tongues of our ain folk, + And was what I hae been!" + +A feeling of despair ran through the whole words; and the tears were +running down Ann Fennel's hectic cheeks as the melody died away in a +plaintive silence. + +"It is what I shall never see again, Stella," she murmured--"the green +fields of _our_ home; or hear the tongues of all the dear ones there. +In my dreams, sometimes, I am at Selby Court, light-hearted and happy, +as I was before I left it for this 'stranger land.' Woe's _me_, also, +Stella!" + + * * * * * + +And now I come into the story--I, Johnny Ludlow. For what I have told of +it hitherto has not been from any personal knowledge of mine, but from +diaries, and from what Mary Carimon related to me, and from Featherston. +It may be regarded as singular that I should have been, so to say, +present at its ending, but that I _was_ there is as true as anything +I ever wrote. The story itself is true in all its chief facts; I have +already said that; and it is true that I saw the close of it. + + +XVIII. + +To say that George Featherston, Doctor-in-ordinary at Buttermead, felt +as if he were standing on his head instead of his heels, would not in +the least express his mental condition as he stood in his surgery that +September afternoon and read a letter, just delivered, from his sister, +Madame Carimon. + +"Wants me to go to Sainteville to see Ann Preen; thinks she will die +if I refuse, for the French doctors can do nothing for her!" commented +Featherston, staring at the letter in intense perplexity, and then +looking off it to stare at me. + +I wonder whether anything in this world happens by chance? In the days +and years that have gone by since, I sometimes ask myself whether +_that_ did: that I should be at that particular moment in Featherston's +surgery. Squire Todhetley was staying with Sir John Whitney +for partridge shooting. He had taken me with him, Tod being in +Gloucestershire; and on this Friday afternoon I had run in to say +"How-d'ye-do" to Featherston. + +"_Sainteville!_" repeated he, quite unable to collect his senses. "Why, +I must cross the water to get _there_!" + +I laughed. "Did you think Sainteville would cross to you, sir?" + +"Bless me! just listen to this," he went on, reading parts of the letter +aloud for my benefit. "'It is a dreadful story, George; I dare not enter +into details here. But I may tell you this much: that she is dying +of fright as much as of fever--or whatever it may be that ails her +physically. I am sure it is not consumption, though some of the people +here think it is. It is fright and superstition. She lives in the belief +that the house is haunted: that Lavinia's ghost walks in it.'" + +"Now what on earth can Mary mean by that?" demanded the doctor, looking +off to ask me. "Ann Preen's wits must have left her. And Mary's too, to +repeat so nonsensical a thing." + +Turning to the next page of the letter, Featherston read on. + +"'To see her dying by inches before my eyes, and not make any attempt +to, save her is what I cannot reconcile myself to, George. I should +have it on my conscience afterwards. I think there is this one chance +for her: that you, who have attended her before and must know her +constitution, would see her now. You might be able to suggest some +remedy or mode of treatment which would restore her. It might even be +that the sight of a home face, of her old home doctor, would do for her +what the strange doctors here cannot do. No one knows better than you +how marvellously in illness the mind influences the body.' + +"True enough," broke off Featherston. "But it seems to me there must be +something mysterious about the sickness." He read on again. + +"'Stella, who is here, was the first to suggest your seeing her, but +it was already exercising my thoughts. Do come, George! the sooner the +better. I and Jules will be delighted to have you with us.'" + +Featherston slowly folded up the letter. "What do you think of all this, +Johnny Ludlow? Curious, is it not?" + +"Very. Especially that hint about the house being haunted by the +dead-and-gone Miss Preen." + +"I have never heard clearly what it was Lavinia Preen died of," observed +Featherston, leaving, doctor-like, the supernatural for the practical. +"Except that she was seized with some sort of illness one day and died +the next." + +"But that's no reason why her ghost should walk. Is it?" + +"Nancy's imagination," spoke Featherston slightingly. "She was always +foolish and fanciful." + +"Shall you go to Sainteville, Mr. Featherston?" + +He gave his head a slow, dubious shake, but did not speak. + +"Don't I wish such a chance were offered to me!" + +Featherston sat down on a high stool, which stood before the physic +shelves, to revolve the momentous question. And by the time he took over +it, he seemed to find it a difficult task. + +"One hardly likes to refuse the request, put as Mary writes it," +remarked he presently. "Yet I don't see how I can go all the way over +there; or how I could leave my patients here. What a temper some of them +would be in!" + +"They wouldn't die of it. It would be a rare holiday for you. Set you up +in health for a year to come." + +"I've not had a holiday since that time at Pumpwater," he rejoined +dreamily; "when I went over for a day or two to see poor John Whitney. +You remember it, Johnny; you were there." + +"Ay, I remember it." + +"Not that this is a question of a holiday for me or no holiday, and I +wonder you should put it so, Johnny Ludlow; it turns upon Ann Preen. Ann +Fennel, that's to say. If I thought I _could_ do her any good, and those +French doctors can't, why, I suppose I ought to make an effort to go." + +"To be sure. Make one also to take me with you!" + +"I dare say!" laughed Featherston. "What would the Squire say to that?" + +"Bluster a bit, and then see it was the very thing for me, and ask what +the cost would be. Mr. Featherston, I shall be ready to start when you +are. Please let me go!" + +Of course I said this half in jest. But it turned out to be earnest. +Whether Featherston feared he might get lost if he crossed the sea +alone, I can't say; but he said I might put the question to the Squire +if I liked, and he would see him later and second it. + +Featherston did another thing. He carried Mary Carimon's letter that +evening to Selby Court. Colonel Selby was staying with his brother for +a week's shooting. Mr. Selby, a nervous valetudinarian, would not have +gone out with a gun if bribed to it, but he invited his friends to do +so. They had just finished dinner when Featherston arrived; the two +brothers, and a short, dark, younger man with a rather keen but +good-natured face and kindly dark eyes. He was introduced as Mr. David +Preen, and turned out to be a cousin, more or less removed, of all the +Preens and all the Selbys you have ever heard of, dead or living. + +Featherston imparted his news to them, and showed his sister's letter. +It was pronounced to be a very curious letter, and was read over more +than once. Colonel Selby next told them what he knew and what he +thought of Edwin Fennel: how he had persistently schemed to get the +quarterly money of the two ladies into his own covetous hands, and what +a shady sort of individual he was believed to be. Mr. Selby, nervous at +the best of times, let alone the worst, became painfully impressed: he +seemed to fear poor Nancy was altogether in a hornet's nest, and gave an +impulsive opinion that some one of the family ought to go over with +Featherston to look into things. + +"Lavinia can't have been murdered, can she?" cried he, his thoughts +altogether confused; "murdered by that man for her share of the money? +Why else should her ghost come back?" + +"Don't make us laugh, Paul," said the colonel to his brother. "Ghosts +are all moonshine. There are no such things." + +"I can tell you that there _are_, William," returned the elder. "Though +mercifully the power to see them is accorded to very few mortals on +earth. Can you go with Mr. Featherston to look into this strange +business, William?" + +"No," replied the colonel, "I could not possibly spare the time. Neither +should I care to do it. Any inquiry of that kind would be quite out of +my line." + +"I will go," quietly spoke David Preen. + +"Do so, David," said Mr. Selby eagerly. "It shall cost you nothing, you +know." By which little speech, Featherston gathered that Mr. David Preen +was not more overdone with riches than were many of the other Preens. + +"Look into it well, David. See the doctor who attended Lavinia; see all +and every one able to throw any light upon her death," urged Mr. Selby. +"As to Ann, she was lamentably, foolishly blamable to marry as she did, +but she must not be left at the villain's mercy now things have come to +this pass." + +To which Mr. David Preen nodded an emphatic assent. + +The Squire gave in at last. Not to my pleading--he accused me of having +lost my head only to think of it--but to Featherston. And when the +following week was wearing away, the exigencies of Featherston's +patients not releasing him sooner, we started for Sainteville; he, I, +and David Preen. Getting in at ten at night after a boisterous passage, +Featherston took up his quarters at Monsieur Carimon's, we ours at the +Hôtel des Princes. + +She looked very ill. Ill and changed. I had seen Ann Preen at Buttermead +when she lived there, but the Ann Preen (or Fennel) I saw now was not +much like her. The once bright face was drawn and fallen in, and very +nearly as long and grey as Featherston's. Apart from that, a timid, +shrinking look sat upon it, as though she feared some terror lay very +near to her. + +The sick have to be studied, especially when suffering from whims +and fancies. So they invented a little fable to Mrs. Fennel--that +Featherston and David Preen were taking an excursion together for their +recreation, and the doctor had extended it as far as Sainteville to see +his sister Mary; never allowing her to think that it was to see _her_. I +was with them, but I went for nobody--and in truth that's all I was in +the matter. + +It was the forenoon of the day after we arrived. David Preen had gone +in first, her kinsman and distant cousin, to the Petite Maison Rouge, +paving the way, as it were, for Featherston. We went in presently. Mrs. +Fennel sat in a large armchair by the salon fire, wrapped in a grey +shawl; she was always cold now, she told us; David Preen sat on the sofa +opposite, talking pleasantly of home news. Featherston joined him on the +sofa, and I sat down near the table. + +Oh, she was glad to see us! Glad to see us all. Ours were home faces, +you see. She held my hands in hers, and the tears ran down her face, +betraying her state of weakness. + +"You have not been very well of late, Mary tells me," Featherston said +to her in a break of the conversation. "What has been the matter?" + +"I--it came on from a bad cold I caught," she answered with some +hesitation. "And there was all the trouble about Lavinia's death. I +could not get over the grief." + +"Well, I must say you don't look very robust," returned Featherston, in +a half-joking tone. "I think I had better take you in hand whilst I am +here, and set you up." + +"I do not think you can set me up; I do not suppose any one can," she +replied, shaking back her curls, which fell on each side of her face in +ringlets, as of old. + +Featherston smiled cheerily. "I'll try," said he. "Some of my patients +say the same when I am first called in to them; but they change their +tone after I have brought back their roses. So will you; never fear. +I'll come in this afternoon and have a professional chat with you." + +That settled, they went on with Buttermead again; David Preen giving +scraps and revelations of the Preen and Selby families; Featherston +telling choice items of the rural public in general. Mrs. Fennel's +spirits went up to animation. + +"Shall you be able to do anything for her, sir?" I asked the doctor as +we came away and went through the entry to the Place Ronde. + +"I cannot tell," he answered gravely. "She has a look on her face that +I do not like to see there." + +Betrayed into confidence, I suppose, by the presence of the old friend +of her girlhood, Ann Fennel related everything to Mr. Featherston that +afternoon, as they sat on the sofa side by side, her hand occasionally +held soothingly in his own. He assured her plainly that what she was +chiefly suffering from was a disorder of the nerves, and that she must +state to him explicitly the circumstances which brought it on before he +could decide how to treat her for it. + +Nancy obeyed him. She yearned to get well, though a latent impression +lay within her that she should not do so. She told him the particulars +of Lavinia's unexpected death just when on the point of leaving +Sainteville; and she went on to declare, glancing over her shoulders +with frightened eyes, that she (Lavinia) had several times since then +appeared in the house. + +"What did Lavinia die of?" inquired the doctor at this juncture. + +"We could not tell," answered Mrs. Fennel. "It puzzled us. At first +Monsieur Dupuis thought it must be inflammation brought on by a chill; +but Monsieur Podevin quite put that opinion aside, saying it was +nothing of the sort. He is a younger and more energetic practitioner +than Monsieur Dupuis." + +"Was it never suggested that she might, in one way or another, have +taken something which poisoned her?" + +"Why, yes, it was; I believe Monsieur Dupuis did think so--I am sure +Monsieur Podevin did. But it was impossible it could have been the case, +you see, because Lavinia touched nothing either of the days that we did +not also partake of." + +"There ought to have been an examination after death. You objected to +that, I fancy," continued Featherston, who had talked a little with +Madame Carimon. + +"True--I did; and I have been sorry for it since," sighed Ann Fennel. +"It was through what my husband said to me that I objected. Edwin +thought it would be distasteful to me. He did not like the idea of it +either. Being dead, he held that she should be left in reverence." + +Featherston coughed. She was evidently innocent as any lamb of suspicion +against _him_. + +"And now," went on Mr. Featherston, "just tell me what you mean by +saying you see your sister about the house." + +"We do see her," said Nancy. + +"Nonsense! You don't. It is all fancy. When the nerves are unstrung, as +yours are, they play us all sorts of tricks. Why, I knew a man once who +took up a notion that he walked upon his head, and he came to me to be +cured!" + +"But it is seeing Lavinia's apparition, and the constant fear of seeing +it which lies upon me, that has brought on this nervousness," pleaded +Nancy. "It is to my husband, when he is here, that she chiefly appears; +nothing but that is keeping him away. I have seen her only three or four +times." + +She spoke quietly and simply, evidently grounded in the belief. Mr. +Featherston wondered how he was to deal with this: and perhaps he was +not himself so much of a sceptic in the supernatural as he thought fit +to pretend. Nancy continued: + +"It was to my husband she appeared first. Exactly a week after her +death. No; a week after the evening she was first taken ill. He was +coming upstairs to bed--I had gone on--when he suddenly fancied that +some one was following him, though only he and I were in the house. +Turning quickly round, he saw Lavinia. That was the first time; and +I assure you I thought he would have died of it. Never before had I +witnessed such mortal terror in man." + +"Did he tell you he had seen her?" + +"No; never. I could not imagine what brought on these curious attacks of +fright, for he had others. He put it upon his health. It was only when +I saw Lavinia myself after he went to England that I knew. I knew then +what it must have been." + +Mr. Featherston was silent. + +"She always appears in the same dress," continued Nancy; "a silver-grey +silk that she wore at church that Sunday. It was the last gown she ever +put on: we took it off her when she was first seized with the pain. And +in her face there is always a sad, beseeching aspect, as if she wanted +something and were imploring us to get it for her. _Indeed_ we see her, +Mr. Featherston." + +"Ah, well," he said, perceiving it was not from this quarter that light +could be thrown on the suspicious darkness of the past, "let us talk of +yourself. You are to obey my orders in all respects, Mistress Nancy. We +will soon have you flourishing again." + +Brave words. Perhaps the doctor half believed in them himself. But he +and they received a check all too soon. + +That same evening, after David Preen had left--for he went in to spend +an hour at the little red house to gossip about the folks at home--Nancy +was taken with a fit of shivering. Flore hastily mixed her a glass +of hot wine-and-water, and then went upstairs to light a fire in the +bedroom, thinking her mistress would be the better for it. Nancy, who +could hear Flore moving about overhead, suddenly remembered something +that she wanted brought down. Rising from her chair, she went to the +door of the salon, intending to call out. A sort of side light, dim and +indistinct, fell upon her as she stood in the recess at the foot of the +stairs from the lamp in the salon and from the stove in the kitchen, for +both doors were open. + +"Flore," she was beginning, "will you bring down my----" + +And there Ann Fennel's words ended. With a wild cry, which reached the +ears of Flore and nearly startled her into fits, Mrs. Fennel collapsed. +The servant came dashing downstairs, expecting to hear that the ghost +had appeared again. + +It was not that. Her mistress was looking wild and puzzled; and when +she recovered herself sufficiently to speak, declared that she had been +startled by some animal. Either a cat or a rabbit, she could not tell +which, the glimpse she caught of it was so brief and slight; it had run +against her legs as she was calling out. + +Flore did not know what to make of this. She looked about, but neither +cat nor rabbit was to be seen; and she told her mistress it could have +been nothing but fancy. Mrs. Fennel thought she knew better. + +"Why, I felt it and saw it," she said. "It came right against me and ran +over my feet. It seemed to be making for the passage, as if it wanted to +get out by the front-door." + + * * * * * + +We were gathered together in the salon of the Petite Maison Rouge the +following morning, partly by accident. Ann Fennel, exceedingly weak and +nervous, lay in bed. Featherston and Monsieur Dupuis were both upstairs. +She put down her illness to the fright, which she talked of to them +freely. They did not assure her it was only "nerves"--to what purpose? I +waited in the salon with David Preen, and just as the doctors came down +Madame Carimon came in. + +David Preen seized upon the opportunity. Fearing that one so favourable +might not again occur, unless formally planned, he opened the ball. +Drawing his chair to the table, next to that of Madame Carimon, the +two doctors sitting opposite, David Preen avowed, with straightforward +candour, that he, with some other relatives, held a sort of doubt as to +whether it might not have been something Miss Lavinia Preen took which +caused her death; and he begged Monsieur Dupuis to say if any such doubt +had crossed his own mind at the time. + +The fair-faced little médecin shook his head at this appeal, as much +as to say he thought that the subject was a puzzling one. Naturally +the doubt had crossed him, and very strongly, he answered; but the +difficulty in assuming that view of the matter lay in her having +partaken solely of the food which the rest of the household had partaken +of; that and nothing else. His confrère, Monsieur Podevin, held a very +conclusive opinion--that she had died of poison. + +David Preen drew towards him a writing-case which lay on the table, +took a sheet of paper from it, and a pencil from his pocket. "Let us go +over the facts quietly," said he; "it may be we shall arrive at some +decision." + +So they went over the facts, the chief speakers being Madame Carimon +and Flore, who was called in. David Preen dotted down from time to +time something which I suppose particularly impressed him. + +Miss Preen was in perfectly good health up to that Sunday--the first +after Easter. On the following Tuesday she was about to quit Sainteville +for Boulogne, her home at the Petite Maison Rouge having become +intolerable to her through the residence in it of Captain Fennel. + +"Pardon me if I state here something which is not positively in the line +of facts; rather, perhaps, in that of imagination," said Madame Carimon, +looking up. "Lavinia had gradually acquired a most painful dread of +Captain Fennel. She had dreams which she could only believe came to warn +her against him, in which he appeared to be threatening her with some +evil that she could not escape from. Once or twice--and this I cannot +in any way account for--she saw him in the house when he was not in it, +not even at Sainteville----" + +"What! saw his apparition?" cried Featherston. "When the man was living! +Come, come, Mary, that is going too far!" + +"Quelle drôle d'idée!" exclaimed the little doctor. + +"He appeared to her twice, she told me," continued Mary Carimon. "She +had been spending the evening out each time; had come into the house, +this house, closing the street-door behind her. When she lighted a +candle at the slab, she saw him standing just inside the door, gazing +at her with the same dreadful aspect that she saw afterwards in her +dreams. You may laugh, George; Monsieur Dupuis, I think you are already +laughing; but I fully believe that she saw what she said she did, and +dreamt what she did dream." + +"But it could not have been the man's apparition when he was not dead; +and it could not have been the man himself when he was not at +Sainteville," contended Featherston. + +"And I believe that it all meant one of those mysterious warnings which +are vouchsafed us from our spiritual guardians in the unseen world," +added Madame Carimon, independently pursuing her argument. "And that it +came to Lavinia to warn her to escape from this evil house." + +"And she did not do it," remarked David Preen. "She was not quick +enough. Well, let us go on." + +"As Lavinia came out of church, Charles Palliser ran after her to ask +her to go home to dine with him and his aunt," resumed Madame Carimon. +"If she had only accepted it! The dinner here was a very simple one, +and they all partook of it, including Flore----" + +"And it was Flore who cooked and served it?" interrupted David Preen, +looking at her. + +"Mais oui, monsieur. The tart excepted; that was frangipane, and did +come from the pastrycook," added Flore, plunging into English. "Then I +had my own dinner, and I had of every dish; and I drank of the wine. +Miss Lavinia would give me a glass of wine on the Sunday, and she poured +it out for me herself that day from the bottle of Bordeaux on their own +table. Nothing was the matter with any of all that. The one thing I did +not have of was the liqueur." + +"What liqueur was that?" + +"It was chartreuse, I believe," said Flore. "While I was busy removing +the dinner articles from the salon, monsieur was busy at his cupboard +outside there, where he kept his bottles. He came into the kitchen just +as I had sat down to eat, and asked me for three liqueur glasses, which +I gave to him on a plate. I heard him pour the liqueur into them, and he +carried them to the ladies." + +Mr. David Preen wrote something down here. + +"After that the captain went out to walk, saying he would see the +English boat enter; and when I had finished washing up I carried the +tea-tray to the salon-table and went home. Miss Lavinia was quite well +then; she sat in her belle robe of grey silk talking with her sister. +Then, when I was giving my boy Dion his collation, a tartine and a +cooked apple, I was fetched back here, and found the poor lady fighting +with pain for her life." + +"Did you wash those liqueur glasses?" asked Mr. Featherston. + +"But yes, sir. I had taken them away when I carried in the tea-things, +and washed them at once, and put them on the shelf in their places." + +"You see," observed Monsieur Dupuis, "the ill-fated lady appears to have +taken nothing that the others did not take also. I applied my remedies +when I was called to her, and the following day she had, as I believed, +recovered from the attack; nothing but the exhaustion left by the agony +was remaining. But that night she was again seized, and I was again +fetched to her. The attack was even more violent than the first one. I +made a request for another doctor, and Monsieur Podevin was brought. He +at once set aside my suggestion of inflammation from a chill, and said +it looked to him more like a case of poison." + +"She had had nothing but slops all day, messieurs, which I made and +carried to her," put in Flore; "and when I left, at night, she was, as +Monsieur le Médecin put it, 'all well to look at.'" + +"Flore did not make the arrowroot which she took later," said Mary +Carimon, taking up the narrative. "When Lavinia went up to bed, +towards nine o'clock, Mrs. Fennel made her a cup of arrowroot in the +kitchen----" + +"And a cup for herself at the same time, as I was informed, madame," +spoke the little doctor. + +"Oh yes, I know that, Monsieur Dupuis. Mrs. Fennel brought her sister's +arrowroot, when it was ready, into this room, asking her husband whether +she might venture to put a little brandy into it. He sent her to ask +the question of Lavinia, bidding her leave the arrowroot on the table +here. She came down for it, saying Lavinia declined the brandy, carried +it up to her and saw her take it. Mrs. Fennel wished her good-night and +came down for her own portion, which she had left in the kitchen. Before +eleven o'clock, when they were going to bed, cries were heard in +Lavinia's room; she was seized with the second attack, and--and died in +it." + +"This second attack was so violent, so unmanageable," said Monsieur +Dupuis, as Mary Carimon's voice faltered into silence, "that I feel +convinced I could not have saved her had I been present when it came on. +I hear that Captain Fennel says he rang several times at my door before +he could arouse me. Such was not the case. I am a very light sleeper, +waking, from habit, at the slightest sound. But in this case I had not +had time to fall asleep when I fancied I heard the bell sound very +faintly. I thought I must be mistaken, as the bell is a loud bell, and +rings easily; and people who ring me up at night generally ring pretty +sharply. I lay listening, and some time afterwards, not immediately, +it did ring. I opened my window, saw Captain Fennel outside, and was +dressed and with him in two minutes." + +"That sounds as if he did not want you to go to her too quickly, +monsieur," observed Mr. Featherston, which went, as the French have it, +without saying. "And I have heard of another suspicious fact: that he +put his wife up to stop the medical examination after death." + +"It amounts to this," spoke David Preen, "according to our judgment, if +anything wrong was administered to her, it was given in the glass of +liqueur on the Sunday afternoon, and in the cup of arrowroot on the +Monday evening. They were the only things affording an opportunity of +being tampered with; and in each case the pain came on about two hours +afterwards." + +Grave suspicion, as I am sure they all felt it to be. But not enough, as +Featherston remarked, to accuse a man of murder. There was no proof to +be brought forward, especially now that months had elapsed. + +"What became of the cup which had contained the arrowroot?" inquired +David Preen, looking at Flore. "Was it left in the bedroom?" + +"That cup, sir, I found in a bowl of water in the kitchen, and also the +other one which had been used. The two were together in the wooden bowl. +I supposed Madame Fennel had put them there; but she said she had not." + +"Ah!" exclaimed David Preen, drawing a deep breath. + +He had come over to look into this suspicious matter; but, as it seemed, +nothing could be done. To stir in it, and fail, would be worse than +letting it alone. + +"Look you," said David Preen, as he put up his note-book. "If it be true +that Lavinia cannot rest now she's dead, but shows herself here in the +house, I regard it as a pretty sure proof that she was sent out of the +world unjustly. But----" + +"Then you hold the belief that spirits revisit the earth, monsieur," +interrupted Monsieur Dupuis, "and that revenants are to be seen?" + +"I do, sir," replied David. "We Preens see them. But I cannot stir +in this matter, I was about to say, and the man must be left to his +conscience." + +And so the conference broke up. + +The thing which lay chiefly on hand now was to try to bring health back +to Ann Fennel. It was thought well to take her out of the house for a +short time, as she had such fancies about it; so Featherston gave up his +room at Madame Carimon's, and Ann was invited to move into it, whilst he +joined us at the hotel. I thought her very ill, as we all did. But after +her removal there, she recovered her spirits wonderfully, and went out +for short walks and laughed and chatted: and when Featherston and David +Preen took the boat back to return home, she went to the port to see +them steam off. + +"Will it be all right with her?" was the last question Mary Carimon +whispered to her brother. + +"I'm afraid _not_," he answered. "A little time will show one way or the +other. Depends somewhat, perhaps, upon how that husband of hers allows +things to go on. I have done what I can, Mary; I could not do more." + +Does the reader notice that I did not include myself in those who +steamed off? For I did not go. Good, genial little Jules Carimon, who +was pleased to say he had always liked me much at school, invited me +to make a stay at his house, if I did not mind putting up with a small +bedroom in the mansarde. I did not mind it at all; it was large enough +for me. Nancy was delighted. We had quite a gay time of it; and I made +the acquaintance of Major and Mrs. Smith, the Misses Bosanquet and +Charley Palliser, who was shortly to quit Sainteville. Charley's +impression of Mrs. Fennel was that she would quit it before he did, +but in a different manner. + +One fine afternoon, when we were coming off the pier, Nancy was walking +between me and Mary Carimon, for she needed the support of two arms if +she went far--yes, she was as weak as that--some one called out that the +London boat was coming in. Turning round, we saw her gliding smoothly up +the harbour. No one in these Anglo-French towns willingly misses _that_ +sight, and we drew up on the quay to watch the passengers land. There +were only eight or ten of them. + +Suddenly Nancy gave a great cry, which bore a sound both of fear and of +gladness--"Oh, there's Edwin!"--and the next moment began to shake her +pocket-handkerchief frantically. + +A thin, grey, weasel of a man, whose face I did not like, came stalking +up the ladder. Yes, it was the ex-captain, Edwin Fennel. + +"He has not come for her sake; he has come to grab the quarter's money," +spoke Mary, quite savagely, in my ear. No doubt. It would be due the end +of September, which was at hand. + +The captain was elaborately polite; quite effusive in his greeting to +us. Nancy left us and took his arm. At the turning where we had to +branch off to the Rue Pomme Cuite, she halted to say good-bye. + +"But you are coming back to us, are you not?" cried Madame Carimon to +her. + +"Oh, I could not let Edwin go home alone," said she. "Nobody's there but +Flore, you know." + +So she went back there and then to the Petite Maison Rouge, and never +came out of it again. I think he was kind to her, that man. He had +sometimes a scared look upon his face, and I guessed he had been seeing +sights. The man would have given his head to be off again; to remain in +that haunted house must have been to him a most intolerable penance; but +he had some regard (policy dictating it) for public opinion, and could +not well run away from his wife in her failing health. + +It was curious how quickly Nancy declined. From the very afternoon she +entered the house it seemed to begin. He had grabbed the money, as Mary +Carimon called it, and brought her nice and nourishing things; but +nothing availed. And a fine way he must have been in, to see that; for +with his wife's death the money would go away from him for evermore. + +Monsieur Dupuis, sometimes Monsieur Henry Dupuis, saw her daily; and +Captain Fennel hastily called in another doctor who had the reputation +of being the best in the town, next to Monsieur Podevin; one Monsieur +Lamirand. Mary Carimon spent half her time there; I went in most days. +It could not be said that she had any special complaint, but she was too +weak to live. + +In less than three weeks it was all over. The end, when it came, was +quite sudden. For a day or two she had seemed so much better that we +told her she had taken a turn at last. On the Thursday evening, quite +late--it was between eight and nine o'clock--Madame Carimon asked me to +run there with some jelly which she had made, and which was only then +ready. When I arrived, Flore said she was sure her mistress would like +me to go up to her room; she was alone, monsieur having stepped out. + +Nancy, wrapped in a warm dressing-gown, sat by the fire in an easy-chair +and a great shawl. Her fair curls were all put back under a small lace +cap, which was tied at the chin with grey ribbon; her pretty blue eyes +were bright. I told her what I had come for, and took the chair in front +of her. + +"You look so well this evening, Nancy," I said heartily--for I had +learnt to call her so at Madame Carimon's, as they did. "We shall have +you getting well now all one way." + +"It is the spurt of the candle before going out," she quietly answered. +"I have not the least pain left anywhere--but it is only that." + +"You should not say or think so." + +"But I know it; I cannot mistake my own feelings. Fancy any one, reduced +as I am, getting well again!" + +I am a bad one to keep up "make-believes." Truth to say, I felt as sure +of it as she did. + +"And it will not be very long first. Johnny," she went on, in a +half-whisper, "I saw Lavinia to-day." + +I looked at her, but made no reply. + +"I have never seen her since I came back here. Edwin has, though; I am +sure of it. This afternoon at dusk I woke up out of a doze, for getting +up to sit here quite exhausts me, and I was moving forward to touch the +hand-bell on the table there, to let Flore know I was ready for my tea, +when I saw Lavinia. She was standing over there, just in the firelight. +I thought she seemed to be holding out her hand to me, as if inviting me +to go to her, and on her face there was the sweetest smile of welcome; +sweeter than could be seen on any face in life. All the sad, mournful, +beseeching look had left it. She stood there for about a minute, and +then vanished." + +"Were you very much frightened?" + +"I had not a thought of fear, Johnny. It was the contrary. She looked +radiantly happy; and it somehow imparted happiness to me. I think--I +think," added Nancy impressively, though with some hesitation, "that she +came to let me know I am going to her. I believe I have seen her for the +last time. The house has, also, I fancy; she and I will shortly go out +of it together." + +What could I answer to that? + +"And so it is over at last," she murmured, more to herself than to me. +"Very nearly over. The distress and the doubt, the terror and the pain. +_I_ brought it all on; you know that, Johnny Ludlow. I feel sure now +that she has pardoned me. I humbly hope that God has." + +She caught up her breath with a long-drawn sigh. + +"And you will give my dear love to all the old friends in England, +Johnny, beginning with Mr. Featherston; he has been very kind to me; you +will see them again, but I shall not. Not in this life. But we shall be +together in the Life which has no ending." + + * * * * * + +At twelve o'clock that night Nancy Fennel died. At least, it was as near +twelve as could be told. Just after that hour Flore went into the room, +preparatory to sitting up with her, and found her dead--just expired, +apparently--with a sweet smile on her face, and one hand stretched out +as if in greeting. Perhaps Lavinia had come to greet her. + +We followed her to the grave on Saturday. Captain Fennel walked next +the coffin--and I wondered how he liked it. I was close behind him with +Monsieur Carimon. Charley Palliser came next with little Monsieur le +Docteur Dupuis and Monsieur Gustave Sauvage. And we left Nancy in the +cemetery, side by side with her sister. + +Captain Edwin Fennel disappeared. On the Sunday, when we English were +looking for him in church, he did not come--his grief not allowing him, +said some of the ladies. But an English clerk in the broker's office, +hearing this, told another tale. Fennel had gone off by the boat which +left the port for London the previous night at midnight. + +And he did not come back again. He had left sundry debts behind him, +including that owing to Madame Veuve Sauvage. Monsieur Carimon, later, +undertook the payment of these at the request of Colonel Selby. It was +understood that Captain Edwin Fennel had emigrated to South America. If +he had any conscience at all, it was to be hoped he carried it with him. +He did not carry the money. The poor little income which he had schemed +for, and perhaps worse, went back to the Selbys. + +And that is the story. It is a curious history, and painful in more ways +than one. But I repeat that it is true. + + + + +WATCHING ON ST. MARK'S EVE. + + +Easter-Day that year was nearly as late as it could be--the twenty-third +of April. That brought St. Mark's Day (the twenty-fifth) on the Tuesday; +and Easter Monday was St. Mark's Eve. + +There is a superstitious belief in our county, and in some others--more +thought of in our old grannies' days than in these--that if you go to +the churchyard on St. Mark's Eve and watch the gate, the shadows, or +phantoms, of those fated to die that year, and destined there to be +buried, will be seen to enter it. + +Easter Monday is a great holiday with us; the greatest in all the year. +Christmas-Day and Good Friday are looked upon more in a religious light; +but on Easter Monday servants and labourers think themselves at liberty +to take their swing. The first day of the wake is nothing to it. + +Now Squire Todhetley gave in to these holidays: they did not come often, +he said. Our servants in the country are not a bit like yours in town; +yours want a day's holiday once a month, oftener sometimes, and strike +if they don't get it; ours have one or two in a year. On Easter Monday +the work was got over by mid-day; there was no cooking, and the +household could roam abroad at will. No ill had ever come of it; none +would have come of it this time, but for St. Mark's Eve falling on the +day. + +Tod and I got home from school on the Thursday. It was a despicable old +school, taking no heed of Passion Week. Other fellows from other schools +could have a fortnight at Easter; we but a week. Tod entered on a +remonstrance with the pater this time; he had been planning it as we +drove home, and thought he'd put it in a strongish point of view. + +"It is sinful, you know, sir; awfully so. Passion Week _is_ Passion +Week. We have no right to pass it at school at our desks." + +"Well, Joe, I don't quite see that," returned the pater, twisting his +lip. "Discipline and lessons are more in accordance with the season +of Passion Week than kicking up your heels at large in all sorts of +mischief; and that's what you'd be at, you know, if you were at home. +What's the matter with Johnny." + +"He has been ill for three days, with a cold or something," said Tod. +"Tell it for yourself, Johnny." + +I had no more to tell than that. For three or four days I had felt ill, +feverish; yesterday (Wednesday) had done no lessons. Mrs. Todhetley +thought it was an attack of influenza. She sent me to bed, and called in +the doctor, Mr. Duffham. + +I was better the next day--Good Friday. Old Duff--as Tod and I called +him for short--came in while they were at church, and said I might get +up. It was slow work, I told him, lying in bed for one's holidays. He +was a wiry little man, with black hair; good in the main, but pompous, +and always carried a gold-headed cane. + +"Not to go out, you know," he said. "You must promise that, Johnny." + +I promised readily. I only wanted to be downstairs with the rest. They +returned home from church, saying they had promised to go over and take +tea with the Sterlings; Mrs. Todhetley looked grave at seeing me, and +thought the doctor was wrong. At which I put on a gay air, like a fellow +suddenly cured. + +But I could not eat any dinner. They had salt fish and cold boiled beef +at two o'clock--our usual way of fasting on Good Friday. Not a morsel +could I swallow, and Hannah brought me some mutton-broth. + +"Do you mind our leaving you, Johnny?" Mrs. Todhetley said to me in her +kind way--which Tod never believed in. "If you do--if you think you +shall feel lonely, I'll stay at home." + +I answered that I should feel very jolly, not lonely at all; and so they +started, going over in the large carriage, drawn by Bob and Blister. Mr. +and Mrs. Todhetley, with Lena, in front, Tod and Hugh behind. Standing +at the window to watch the start, I saw Roger Monk looking on from the +side of the house. + +He was a small, white-faced chap of twenty or so, with a queer look in +his eyes, and black sprouting whiskers. Looking full at the eyes, when +you could get the chance, which was not very often, for they rarely +looked at you, there was nothing wrong to be seen with them, and yet +they gave a sinister cast to the face. Perhaps it was that they were too +near together. Roger Monk was not one of our regular men; for the matter +of that, he was above the condition; but was temporarily filling the +head-gardener's place, who was ill with rheumatism. Seeing me, he walked +up to the window, and I opened it to speak to him. "Are you here still, +Monk?" + +"And likely to be, Mr. Ludlow, if it depends upon Jenkins's coming on +again," was the answer. "Fine cattle, those that the governor has just +driven off." + +He meant Bob and Blister, and they were fine; but I did not like the +tone, or the word "governor," as applied to Mr. Todhetley. "I can't keep +the window up," I said; "I'm not well." + +"All right, sir; shut it. As for me, I must be about my work. +There's enough to do with the gardens, one way or another; and the +responsibility lies on my shoulders." + +"You must not work to-day, Monk. Squire Todhetley never allows it on +Good Friday." + +He laughed pleasantly; as much as to say, what Squire Todhetley allowed, +or did not allow, was no concern of his; and went briskly away across +the lawn. And not once, during the short interview, had his eyes met +mine. + +Wasn't it dull that afternoon! I took old Duffham's physic, and drank +the tea Hannah brought me, and was hot, and restless, and sick. Never a +soul to talk to; never a book to read--my eyes and head ached too much +for that; never a voice to be heard. Most of the servants were out; +all of them, for what I knew, except Hannah; and I was fit to die of +weariness. At dusk I went up to the nursery. Hannah was not there. +The fire was raked--if you understand what that means, though it is +generally applied only to kitchen fires in our county--which proved +that she was off somewhere on a prolonged expedition. Even old Hannah's +absence was a disappointment. I threw myself down on the faded sofa at +the far end of the room, and, I suppose, went to sleep. + +For when I became alive again to outward things, Hannah was seated in +one chair at the fire, cracking up the coal; Molly, the cook with the +sharp tongue and red-brown eyes, in another. It was dark and late; my +head ached awfully, and I wished them and their clatter somewhere. They +were talking of St. Mark's Eve, and its popular superstition. Molly was +telling a tale of the past, the beginning of which I had not heard. + +"I can't believe it," exclaimed Hannah; "I can't believe that the +shadows come." + +"Did ye ever watch for 'em, woman?" asked Molly, who had been born in +the North. + +"No," acknowledged Hannah. + +"Then how can ye speak of what ye don't know? It is as true as that you +and me be a-sitting here. Two foolish, sickly girls they was, both of +'em sweet upon the same young man. Leastways, he was sweet upon both of +them, the deceiver, which comes to the same thing. My sister Becky was +five-and-twenty that same year; she had a constant pain and a cough, +which some said was windpipe and some said was liver. The other was +Mary Clarkson, who was subject to swimmings in the head and frightful +dartings. Any way, they'd got no health to brag on, either of 'em, and +they were just eat up with jealousy, the one of the other. Tom Town, +he knew this; and he played 'em off again' each other nicely, little +thinking what his own punishment was to be." + +Hannah gently put the poker inside the bars to raise the coal, and some +more light came out. Molly went on. + +"Now, Hannah, you mustn't think bad of them two young women. They did +not wish one another dead--far from it; but each thought the other +couldn't live. In natural course, if the one went off, poor thing, Tom +Town, he would be left undivided for the other." + +"Was Tom Town handsome?" interrupted Hannah. + +"Well, middling for that. He was under-sized, not up to their shoulders, +with big bushy red whiskers; but he had a taking way with him. He was in +a shop for himself, and doing well, so that more young women nor the two +I am telling of would have said Yes to his asking. Becky, she thought +Mary Clarkson couldn't live the year out; Mary, she told a friend that +she was sure Becky wouldn't. And what should they do but go to watch the +graveyard on St. Mark's Eve, to see the other's shadow pass!" + +"Together?" + +"No; but they met there. Awk'ard, wasn't it? Calling up their wits, each +of 'em, they pretended to have come out promiskous, just on the spree, +not expecting to see nobody's shadow in particular. As they _had_ come, +they stopped; standing back again' the hedge near the graveyard, holding +on to each other's arms for company, and making belief not to be scared. +Hannah, woman, I don't care to tell this. I've never told it many +times." + +Molly's face had a hard, solemn look, in the fire's blaze, and Hannah +suddenly drew her chair close to her. I could have laughed out loud. + +"Just as the clock struck--ten, I think it was," went on Molly, in a +half-whisper, "there was a faint rustle heard, like a flutter in the +air, and somebody came along the road. At first the women's eyes were +dazed, and they didn't see distinct, but as the gate opened to let him +in, he turned his face, and they saw it was Tom Town. Both the girls +thought it was _himself_, Hannah; and they held their breath and kept +quite still, hoping he'd not notice them, for they'd have felt ashamed +to be caught watching there." + +"And it was not himself?" asked Hannah, catching up her breath. + +Molly gave her head a shake. "No more than it was you or me: it was his +shadow. He walked on up the path, looking neither to the right nor left, +and they lost sight of him. I was with mother when they came home. Mary +Clarkson, she came in with Beck, and they said they had seen Tom Town, +and supposed he had gone out watching, too. Mother advised them to hold +their tongues: it didn't look well, she said, for them two, only sickly +young girls, to have run out to the graveyard alone. A short while +after, Tom Town, in talking of that night, mother having artfully led to +it, said he had gone up to bed at nine with a splitting headache, and +forgot all about its being St. Mark's Eve. When mother heard that, she +turned the colour o' chalk, and looked round at me." + +"And Tom Town died?" + +"He died that blessed year; the very day that folks was eating their +Michaelmas gooses. A rapid decline took him off." + +"It's very strange," said Hannah, musingly. "People believe here that +the shadows appear, and folks used to go watching, as it's said. I don't +think many go now. Did the two young women die?" + +"Not they. Becky's married, and got half-a-dozen children; and Mary +Clarkson, she went off to America. Shouldn't you like to watch?" + +"Well, I should," acknowledged Hannah; "I would, too, if I thought I +should see anything. I've said more than once in my life that I should +just like to go out on St. Mark's Eve, and see whether there is anything +in it or not. My mother went, I know." + +"If you'll go, I'll go." + +Hannah made no answer to this at first. She sat looking at the fire with +a cross face. It had always a cross look when she was deep in thought. +"The mistress would think me such a fool, Molly, if she came to know of +it." + +"If! How could she come to know of it? Next Monday will be the Easter +holidays, and we mayn't never have the opportunity again. I shouldn't +wonder but the lane's full o' watchers. St. Mark's Eve don't often come +on a Easter Monday." + +There's no time to go on with what they said. A good half-hour the two +sat there, laying their plans: when once Hannah had decided to go in +for the expedition, she made no more bones over it. The nursery-windows +faced the front, and when the carriage was heard driving in, they both +decamped downstairs--Hannah to the children, Molly to her kitchen. I +found Tod, and told him the news: Hannah and Molly were going to watch +in the churchyard for the shadows on St. Mark's Eve. + +"We'll have some fun over this, Johnny," said he, when he had done +laughing. "You and I will be on to them." + +Monday came; and, upon my word, it seemed as if things turned out on +purpose. Mr. Todhetley went off to Worcester with Dwarf Giles, on some +business connected with the Quarter Sessions, and was not expected +home until midnight, as he stayed to dine at Worcester. Mrs. Todhetley +had one of her excruciating face-aches, and she went to bed when the +children did--seven o'clock. Hannah had said in the morning that she and +Molly were going to spend an hour or two with Goody Picker after the +children were in bed; upon which Mrs. Todhetley told her to get them to +bed early. It was something rare for Hannah to take any holiday; she +generally said she did not want it. Goody Picker's husband used to be a +gamekeeper--not ours. Since his death she lived how she could, on her +vegetables, or by letting her odd room; Roger Monk had it now. Sometimes +she had her grandchild with her; and the parents, well-to-do shopkeepers +at Alcester, paid her well. Goody Picker was thought well of at our +house, and came up occasionally to have tea in the nursery with Hannah. + +I was well by Monday; nothing but a bit of a cough left; and Tod and I +looked forward to the night's fun. Not a word had we heard since; but we +had seen the two women-servants whispering together whenever they got +the chance; and so we knew they were going. What Tod meant to do, he +wouldn't tell me; I think he hardly knew himself. The big turnips were +all gone, or he might have scooped one out for a death's head, and stuck +it on the gate-post, with a candle in it. + +The night came. A clear night, with a miserable moon. Miserable for our +sport, because it was so bright. + +"A pitch-dark night would have had some sense in it, you know, Johnny," +Tod remarked to me, as we stood at the door, looking out. "The moon +should hide her face on St. Mark's Eve." + +Just as he spoke, the clock struck nine. Time to be going. There was +nobody to let or hinder us. Mrs. Todhetley was in bed groaning with +toothache; old Thomas and Phoebe, neither of whom had cared to take +holiday, were at supper in the kitchen. She was a young girl lately had +in to help the housemaid. + +"You go on, Johnny; I'll follow presently. Take your time; they won't go +on the watch for this half-hour yet." + +"But, Tod, what is it that you are going to do?" + +"Never you mind. If you hear a great noise, and see a light blaze up, +don't you be scared." + +"I scared, Tod! That's good." + +"All right, Johnny. Take care not to be seen. It might spoil sport." + +The church was about half-a-mile from our house, whether you crossed the +fields to it or took the highway. It stood back from the road, in its +big churchyard. A narrow lane, between two dwarf hedges, led up from the +road to the gate; it was hardly wide enough for carriages; they wound +round the open road further on. A cross-path, shut in by two stiles, led +right across the lane near to the churchyard gate. Stories went that a +poor fellow who had hung himself about twenty years ago was buried by +torchlight under that very crossing, with never a parson to say a prayer +over him. + +We guessed where the women would stand--at one of these crossing stiles, +with the gate and the churchyard in full view. As Tod said, it stood +to reason that shadows and the watchers for them would not choose the +broader road, where all was open, and not so much as a tree grew for +shelter. + +I stole along cautiously, taking the roadway and keeping under shade of +the hedge, and got there all right. Not a creature was about. The old +grey church, built of stone, the many-shaped graves in the churchyard, +stood white and cold in the moonlight. I went behind the cross-stile at +the side furthest from our house, and leaned over it, looking up and +down the lane. That the women would be on the opposite side was certain, +because the churchyard gate could not be seen so well from this. + +The old clock did not tell the quarters, only struck the hour; time went +on, and I began to wonder how long I was to wait. It must be turned +half-past nine; getting nearer to a quarter to ten; and still nobody +came. Where were the watchers? And where was Tod? The shadows of the +trees, of the hedges, of the graves, fell in distinct lines on the +grass; and I don't mind confessing that it felt uncommonly lonely. + +"Hou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou!" burst forth over my head with a sudden and +unearthly sound. I started back in a fright for one moment, and called +myself an idiot the next, for it was only an owl. It had come flying +forth from the old belfry, and went rushing on with its great wings, +crying still, but changing its note. "Tu-whit; tu-whoo." + +And while I watched the owl, other sounds, as of whispering, made +themselves manifest, heralding the approach of the women from the +opposite field, making for the stile in front of me, through the little +copse. Drawing behind the low hedge, to sit down on the stump of a tree, +I pushed my head forward, and took a look at them through the lower bars +of the stile. They were standing at the other, in their light shawls +and new Easter straw-bonnets; Molly's trimmed with green, Hannah's with +primrose. The moonlight fell full on their faces--mine was in the shade. +But they might see me, and I drew back again. + +Presently they began to gabble; in low tones at first, which increased, +perhaps unconsciously to themselves, to higher ones. They said how +lonely it was, especially with "them grave-marks" in view close by; and +they speculated upon whether any shadows would appear to them. My sense +of loneliness had vanished. To have two practical women, each of them a +good five-and-thirty, for neighbours, took it off. But I wondered what +had become of Tod. + +Another owl! or perhaps the last one coming back again. It was not so +startling a noise as before, and created no alarm. I thought it a good +opportunity to steal another look, and propelled my head forward an +inch at a time. Their two faces were turned upwards, watching the owl's +flight towards the belfry. + +But to my intense astonishment there was a _third_ face. A face behind +them peeping out from the close folds of a mantle, and almost resting +on their shoulders. At the first moment I thought of Tod; but soon the +features became familiar to me in the bright light, and I knew them for +Phoebe's. Phoebe, whom I had left in the kitchen, supping quietly! +That she had stolen up unseen and unheard while they talked, was +apparent. + +A wild screech! Two wild screeches. Phoebe had put her hands on the +startled women, and given vent to a dismal groan. _She_ laughed: but the +others went into a desperate passion. First at having been frightened, +next at having been followed. When matters came to be investigated +later, it turned out that Phoebe had overheard a conversation between +Molly and Hannah, which betrayed what they were about to do, and had +come on purpose to startle them. + +A row ensued. Bitter words on both sides; mutual abusings. The elder +servants ordered Phoebe home; she refused to go, and gave them some +sauce. She intended to stay and see what there was to be seen, she said; +for all she could tell, _their_ shadows might pass, and a good thing if +they did; let alone that she'd not dare to go back by herself at that +hour and meet the ghosts. Hannah and Molly cut the matter short by +leaving the stile to her; they went round, and took up their places by +the churchyard gate. + +It seems very stupid to be writing of this, I dare say; it must read +like an old ghost-story out of a fable-book; but every word is true, as +the people that lived round us then could tell you. + +There we waited; Hannah and Molly gathered close against the hedge by +the churchyard gate; Phoebe, wrapped in her shawl, leaning on the top +of the stile; I on the old tree stump, feeling inclined to go to sleep. +It seemed a long time, and the night grew cold. Evidently there were no +watchers for St. Mark's shadows abroad that night, except ourselves. +Without warning, the old clock boomed out the strokes of the hour. Ten. + +Did you ever have the opportunity of noticing how long it takes for a +sound like this to die quite away on the calm night-air? I seemed to +hear it still, floating off in the distance, when I became aware that +some figure was advancing up the lane towards us with a rather swift +step. It's Tod this time, I thought, and naturally looked out; and I +don't mind telling that I caught hold of the bars of the stile for +companionship, in my shock of terror. + +I had never seen the dead walking; but I do believe I thought I saw +it then. It looked like a corpse in its winding-sheet; whether man or +woman, none could tell. An ashey-white, still, ghastly face, enveloped +around with bands of white linen, was turned full to the moonlight, that +played upon the rigid features. The whole person, from the crown of the +head to the soles of the feet, was enshrouded in a white garment. All +thoughts of Tod went out of me; and I'm not sure but my hair rose up on +end as the thing came on. You may laugh at me, all of you, but just you +go and try it. + +My fear went for nothing, however; it didn't damage me. Of all the +awful cries ever heard, shrill at first, changing to something like the +barking of a dog afterwards, those were the worst that arose opposite. +They came from Phoebe. The girl had stood petrified, with straining +eyes and laboured breath, like one who has not the power to fly, while +the thing advanced. Only when it stopped close and looked at her did the +pent-up cries come forth. Then she turned to fly, and the white figure +leaped the stile, and went after her into the copse. What immediately +followed I cannot remember--never could remember it; but it seemed +that not more than a minute had elapsed when I and Molly and Hannah +were standing over Phoebe, lying in convulsions on the ground, and the +creature nowhere to be seen. The cries had been heard in the road, and +some people passing came running up. They lifted the girl in their arms, +and bore her homewards. + +My senses were coming to me, showing plainly enough that it was no +"shadow," but some ill-starred individual dressed up to personate one. +Poor Phoebe! I could hear her cries still, though the group was +already out of the copse and crossing the open field beyond. Somebody +touched me on the shoulder. + +"Tod! Did you do it?" + +"Do what?" asked Tod, who was out of breath with running. "What was all +that row?" + +I told him. Somebody had made himself into a ghost, with a tied-up +whitened face, just as the dead have, and came up the Green Lane in a +sheet; and Phoebe was being carried home in convulsions. + +"You are a fool, Johnny," was his wrathful answer. "I am not one to risk +a thing of that sort, not even for those two old women we came out to +frighten. Look here." + +He went to the edge of the copse near the road, and showed me some +things--the old pistol from the stable, and gunpowder lights that went +off with a crash yards high. It's not of much use going into it now. Tod +had meant, standing at a safe distance, to set a light to the explosive +articles, and fire off his pistol at the same time. + +"It would have been so good to see the women scutter off in their +fright, Johnny; and it couldn't have hurt them. They might have looked +upon it as the blue-light from below." + +"What made you so late?" + +"Late!" returned Tod, savagely; "I am late, and the fun's spoilt. That +confounded old Duff and his cane came in to see you, Johnny, just as I +was starting; there was nobody else, and I couldn't leave him. I said +you were in bed and asleep, but it didn't send him away. Down he sat, +telling a tale of how hard-worked he'd been all day, and asking for +brandy-and-water. The dickens take him!" + +"And, Tod, it was really not you?" + +"If you repeat that again, Johnny, I'll strike you. I swear it was not +me. There! I never told you a lie yet." + +He never had; and from that moment of strong denial I know that Tod had +no more to do with the matter than I had. + +"I wonder who it could have been?" + +"I'll find that out, as sure as my name's Todhetley," he said, catching +up his pistols and lights. + +We ran all the way home, looking out in vain for the ghost on our way, +and got in almost as soon as the rest. What a hullabaloo it was! They +put a mattress on the kitchen floor, and laid Phoebe on it. Mr. +Duffham was upon the scene in no time; the Squire had returned earlier +than was thought for, and Mrs. Todhetley came down with her face +smothered in a woollen handkerchief. + +As to any concealment now, it was useless to think of it. None was +attempted, and Molly and Hannah had to confess that they went out to +watch for the shadows. The Squire blustered at them a little, but Mrs. +Todhetley said the keenest thing, in her mild way: + +"At your age, Hannah!" + +"I have known a person rendered an idiot for life with a less fright +than this," said old Duff, turning round to speak. "It was the following +her that did the mischief." + +Nothing could be done that night as to investigation; but with the +morning the Squire entered upon it in hot anger. "Couldn't the fool have +been contented with what he'd already done, without going over the stile +after her? If I spend a fifty-pound note, I'll unearth him. It looks to +me uncommonly like a trick you two boys would play," he added, turning +sharply upon me and Tod. + +And the suspicion made us all the more eager to find out the real fox. +But not a clue could we discover. Nobody had known of the proposed +expedition except Goody Picker; and she, as everybody testified, was +true to the backbone. As the day went on, and nothing came of it, Tod +had one of his stamping fits. + +"If one could find out whether it was man or woman! If one could divine +how they got at the knowledge!" stamped Tod. "The pater does not look +sure about us yet." + +"I wonder if it could have been Roger Monk?" I said, speaking out a +thought that had been dimly creeping up in my mind by starts all day. + +"Roger Monk!" repeated Tod, "why pitch upon him?" + +"Only that it's just possible he might have got it out of Goody Picker." + +Away went Tod, in his straightforward fashion, to look for Roger Monk. +He was in the hot-house, doing something to his plants. + +"Monk, did you play that trick last night?" + +"What trick, sir?" asked Monk, twitching a good-for-nothing leaf off a +budding geranium. + +"What trick! As if there were more tricks than one played! I mean +dressing yourself up like a dead man, and frightening Phoebe." + +"I have too much to do with my work, Mr. Todhetley, to find time to play +tricks. I took no holiday at all yesterday, day or night, but was about +my business till I went to bed. They were saying out here this morning +that the Squire thought _you_ had done it." + +"Don't you be insolent, Monk. That won't answer with me." + +"Well, sir, it is not pleasant to be accused point-blank of a crime, as +you've just accused me. I know nothing at all about the matter. 'Twasn't +me. I had no grudge against Phoebe, that I should harm her." + +Tod was satisfied; I was not. He never once looked in either of our +faces as he was speaking. We leaped the wire-fence and went across to +Goody Picker's, bursting into her kitchen without ceremony. + +"I say, Mrs. Picker, we can't find out anything about that business last +night," began Tod. + +"And you never will, gentlemen, as is my opinion," returned Mrs. Picker, +getting up in a bustle and dusting two wooden chairs. "Whoever did that, +have took himself off for a bit; never doubt it. 'Twas some one o' them +village lads." + +"We have been wondering whether it was Roger Monk." + +"Lawk-a-mercy!" cried she, dropping a basin on the brick floor. And if +ever I saw a woman change colour, she did. + +"What's the matter now?" + +"Why, you sent me into a tremble, gentlemen, saying that," she answered, +stooping to pick up the broken crockery. "A young man lodging in my +place, do such a villain's trick! I'd not like to think it; I shouldn't +rest in my bed. The two servants having started right out from here for +the churchyard have cowed-down my heart bad enough, without more ill +news." + +"What time did Monk come in last night?" questioned Tod. "Do you +remember?" + +"He come in after Mrs. Hannah and the other had gone," she replied, +taking a moment's pause. "Close upon it; I'd hardly shut my door on them +when I had to open it to him." + +"Did he go out again?" + +"Not he, sir. He eat his supper, telling me in a grumbling tone about +the extra work he'd had to do in the greenhouses and places, because the +other man had took holiday best part o' the day. And then he went up to +bed. Right tired he seemed." + +We left her fitting the pieces of the basin together, and went home. "It +wasn't Monk," said Tod. "But now--where to look for the right man, +Johnny?" + +Look as we might, we did not find him. Phoebe was better in a day or +two, but the convulsive fits stuck to her, coming on at all sorts of +unexpected times. Old Duff thought it might end in insanity. + +And that's what came of Watching for the Shadows on St. Mark's Eve! + + + + +SANKER'S VISIT. + + +His name was Sanker, and he was related to Mrs. Todhetley. Not expecting +to go home for the holidays--for his people lived in some far-off +district of Wales, and did not afford him the journey--Tod invited him +to spend them with us at Dyke Manor: which was uncommonly generous, for +he disliked Sanker beyond everything. Having plenty of money himself, +Tod could not bear that a connection of his should be known as nearly +the poorest and meanest in the school, and resented it awfully. But he +could not be ill-natured, for all his prejudices, and he asked Sanker to +go home with us. + +"It's slow there," he said; "not much going on in summer besides +haymaking; but it may be an improvement on this. So, if you'd like to +come, I'll write and tell them." + +"Thank you," said Sanker; "I should like it very much." + +Things had been queer at school as the term drew to its close. Petty +pilferings were taking place; articles and money alike disappeared. Tod +lost half-a-sovereign; one of the masters some silver; Bill Whitney put +sevenpence halfpenny and a set of enamelled studs into his desk one day, +never to see either again; and Snepp, who had been home to his sister's +marriage, lost a piece of wedding-cake out of his box the night he came +back. There was a thief in the school, and no clue to him. One might +mentally accuse this fellow, another that; but not a shadow of proof was +there against any. Altogether we were not sorry to get away. + +But the curious thing was, that soon after we got home pilferings began +there. Ned Banker was well received; and Tod, regarding himself in the +capacity of host, grew more cordial with him than he had been at school. +It was a sort of noblesse oblige feeling. Sanker was sixteen; stout +and round; not tall; with pale eyes and a dull face. He was to be a +clergyman; funds at his home permitting. His father lived at some mines +in Wales. Tod wondered in what capacity. + +"Mr. Sanker was a gentleman born and bred," explained Mrs. Todhetley. +"He never had much money; but what little it was he lost, speculating +in this very mine. After that, when he had nothing in the world left +to live upon, and a wife and several young children to keep, he was +thankful to take a situation as over-looker at a small yearly salary." + +We had been home about a week when the first thing was missed. At one +side of the house, in a sort of nook, was a square room, its glass-doors +opening on the gravel-path that skirted the hedge of the vegetable +garden. Squire Todhetley kept his farming accounts there and wrote +his letters. A barometer and two county maps, Worcestershire and +Warwickshire, on its walls, a square of matting on its floor, an upright +bureau, a table, some chairs; and there you have the picture of the +room. + +One afternoon--mind! we did not know this for a week after, but it is +as well to tell of it as it occurred--he was sitting at the table in +this room, his account-books, kept in the bureau, open before him; his +inkstand and cash-box at hand. Lying near the cash-box was a five-pound +note, open; the Squire had put it out for Dwarf Giles to get changed at +Alcester. He was writing an order for some things that Giles would have +to bring back, when Rimmell, who acted as working bailiff on the estate, +came to the glass-doors, open to the warm June air, saying he had +received an offer for the wheat that had spurted. The Squire stepped +outside on the gravel-path while he talked with Rimmell, and then +strolled round with him to the fold-yard. He was away--that is, out of +sight of the room--about three minutes, and when he got back the note +was gone. + +He could not believe his own eyes. It was a calm day; no wind stirring. +He lifted the things on the table; he lifted the matting on the floor; +he shook his loose coat; all in vain. Standing at the door, he shouted +aloud; he walked along the path to the front of the house, and shouted +there; but was not answered. So far as could be seen, no person whatever +was about who could have come round to the room during his short +absence. + +Striding back to the room, he went through it, and up the passage to +the hall, his boots creaking. Molly was in the kitchen, singing over +her work; Phoebe and Hannah were heard talking upstairs; and Mrs. +Todhetley stood in the store-room, doing something to the last year's +pots of jam. She said, on being questioned, that no one had passed to +the passage leading to the Squire's room. + +It happened at that moment, that I, coming home from the Dyke, ran into +the hall, full butt against the Squire. + +"Johnny," said he, "where are you all? What are you up to?" + +I had been at the Dyke all the afternoon with Tod and Hugh; they were +there still. Not Sanker: he was outside, on the lawn, reading. This I +told the pater, and he said no more. Later, when we came to know what +had happened, he mentioned to us that, at this time, no idea of robbery +had entered his head; he thought one of us might have hidden the money +in sport. + +So much an impossibility did it appear of the note's having been lifted +by human hands, that the Squire went back to his room in a maze. He +could only think that it must have attached itself to his clothes, and +dropped off them in the fold-yard. What had become of it, goodness knew; +whether it had fluttered into the pond, or the hens had scratched it to +pieces, or the turkeys gobbled it up; he searched fruitlessly. + +That was on a Thursday. On the following Thursday, when Tod was lying on +the lawn bench on his back, playing with his tame magpie, and teasing +Hugh and Lena, the pater's voice was heard calling to him in a sharp, +quick tone, as if something was the matter. Tod got up and went round by +the gravel-path to whence the sound came, and I followed. The Squire was +standing at the window of the room, half in, half out. + +"I don't want you, Johnny. Stay, though," he added, after a moment, "you +may as well be told--why not?" + +He sat down in his place at the table. Tod stood just inside the door, +paying more attention to the magpie, which he had brought on his arm, +than to his father: I leaned against the bureau. There was a minute's +silence, waiting for the Squire to speak. + +"Put that wretched bird down," he said; and we knew something had put +him out, for he rarely spoke with sharpness to Tod. + +Tod sent the magpie off, and came in. The first day we got home from +school, Tod had rescued the magpie from Goody Picker's grandson; he +caught him pulling the feathers out of its tail; gave him sixpence for +it, and brought it home. A poor, miserable, half-starved thing, that +somebody had taught to say continually, "Now then, Peter." Tod meant to +feed it into condition; but the pater had not taken kindly to the bird; +he said it would be better dead than alive. + +"What was that I heard you boys talking of the other day, about some +petty pilferings in your school?" he asked, abruptly. And we gave him +the history. + +"Well, as it seems to me, the same thing is going on here," he +continued, looking at us both. "Johnny, sit down; I can't talk while you +sway about like that." + +"The same thing going on here, sir?" + +"I say that it seems so," said the pater, thrusting both his hands deep +into his trousers' pockets, and rattling the silver in them. "Last +Thursday, this day week, a bank-note lay on my table here. I just went +round to the yard with Rimmell, and when I got back the note was gone." + +"Where did it go to?" asked Tod, practically. + +"That is just the question--where? I concluded that it must have stuck +to my coat in some unaccountable way, and got lost out-of-doors. I +don't conclude so now." + +Tod seemed to take the news in his usual careless fashion, and kept +privately telegraphing signs to the magpie, sitting now on the old +tree-stump opposite. + +"Yes, sir. Well?" + +"I think now, Joe, that somebody came in at these open doors, and _took_ +the note," said the pater, impressively. "And I want to find out who it +was." + +"Now then, Peter!" cried the bird, hopping down on the gravel; at which +Tod laughed. The Squire got up in a rage, and shut the doors with a +bang. + +"If you can't be serious for a few moments, you had better say so. I can +tell you this is likely to turn out no laughing business." + +Tod turned his back to the glass-doors, and left the magpie to its +devices. + +"Whoever it was, contrived to slip round here from the front, during my +temporary absence; possibly without ill intention: the sight of the note +lying open might have proved too strong a temptation for him." + +"Him!" put in Tod, critically. "It might have been a woman." + +"You might be a jackass: and often are one," said the pater. And it +struck us both, from the affable retort, that his suspicions were +pointing to some particular person of the male gender. + +"This morning, after breakfast, I was here, writing a letter," he went +on. "While sealing it, Thomas called me away in a hurry, and I was +absent the best part of an hour. When I got back, my ring had +disappeared." + +"Your ring, sir!" cried Tod. + +"Yes, my ring, sir," mocked the pater; for he thought we were taking +up the matter lightly, and it nettled him. "I left it on the seal, +expecting to find it there when I returned. Not so. The ring had gone, +and the letter lay on the ground. We have got a thief about the house, +boys--a thief--within or without. Just the same sort of thief, as it +seems to me, that you had at school." + +Tod suddenly leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, his whole interest +aroused. Some unpleasant doubt had struck him, as was evident by the +flush upon his face. + +"Of course, anybody that might be about, back or front, could find +their way down here if they pleased," he slowly said. "Tramps get in +sometimes." + +"Rarely, without being noticed. Who did you boys see about the place +that afternoon--tramp or gentleman? Come! You were at the house, Johnny: +you bolted into it, head foremost, saying you had come from the Dyke." + +"I never saw a soul but Sanker: he was on the bench on the lawn, +reading. I said so at the time, sir." + +"Ah! yes; Sanker was there reading," quietly assented the Squire. "What +were you hastening home for, Johnny?" + +As if that mattered, or could have had anything to do with it! He had a +knack of asking unpleasant questions; and I looked at Tod. + +"Hugh got his blouse torn, and Johnny came in to get another," +acknowledged Tod, readily. The fact was, Hugh's clothes that afternoon +had come to uncommon grief. Hannah had made one of her usual rows over +it, and afterwards shown the things to Mrs. Todhetley. + +"Well, and now for to-day," resumed the pater. "Where have you all +been?" + +Where had we not? In the three-cornered paddock; with Monk in the +pine-house; away in the rick-yard; once to the hay-field; at the +rabbit-hutches; round at the stables; oh, everywhere. + +"You two, and Sanker?" + +"Not Sanker," I said. Sanker stayed on the lawn with his book. We had +all been on the lawn for the last half-hour: he, us, Hugh, Lena, and the +magpie. But not a suspicious character of any sort had we seen about the +place. + +"Sanker's fond of reading on the lawn," remarked Mr. Todhetley, in a +careless tone. But he got no answer: we had been struck into silence. + +He took one hand out of his pocket, and drummed on the table, not +looking at either of us. Tod had laid hold of a piece of blotting-paper +and was pulling it to pieces. I wondered what they were thinking of: I +know what I was. + +"At any rate, the first thing is to find the ring; _that_ only went +this morning," said the Squire, as he left us. Tod sat on where he was, +dropping the bits of paper. + +"I say, Tod, do you think it _could_ be----?" + +"Hold your tongue, Johnny!" he shouted. "No, I don't think it. The +bank-note--light, flimsy thing--must have been lost in the yard, and the +ring will turn up. It's somewhere on the floor here." + +In five minutes the news had spread. Mr. Todhetley had told his wife, +and summoned the servants to the search. Both losses were made known; +consternation fell on the household; the women-servants searched the +room; old Thomas bent his back double over the frame outside the +glass-doors. But there was no ring. + +"This is just like the mysterious losses we had at school," exclaimed +Sanker, as a lot of us were standing in the hall. + +"Yes, _it is_," said the Squire. + +"Perhaps, sir, your ring is in a corner of some odd pocket?" went on +Sanker. + +"Perhaps it may be," answered the Squire, rather emphatically; "but not +in mine." + +Happening to look at Mrs. Todhetley, I saw her face had turned to a +white fright. Whether the remark of Sanker or the peculiarity of the +Squire's manner brought to her mind the strange coincidence of the +losses, here and at school, certain it was the doubt had dawned upon +her. Later, when I and Tod were hunting in the room on our own account, +she came to us with her terror-stricken face. + +"Joseph, I see what you are thinking," she said; "but it can't be; it +can't be. If the Sankers are poor, they are honest. I wish you knew his +father and mother." + +"I have not accused any one, Mrs. Todhetley." + +"No; neither has your father; but you suspect." + +"Perhaps we had better not talk of it," said Tod. + +"Joseph, I think we must talk of it, and see what can be done. If--if he +should have done such a thing, of course he cannot stay here." + +"But we don't know that he has, therefore he ought not to be accused of +it." + +"Oh! Joseph, don't you see the pain? None of you can feel this as I do. +He is my relative." + +I felt so sorry for her. With the trouble in her pale, mild eyes, and +the quivering of her thin, meek lips. It was quite evident that _she_ +feared the worst: and Tod threw away concealment with his step-mother. + +"We must not accuse him; we must not let it be known that we suspect +him," he said; "the matter here can be hushed up--got over--but were +suspicion once directed to him on the score of the school losses, the +disgrace would never be lived down, now or later. It would cling to him +through life." + +Mrs. Todhetley clasped her slender and rather bony fingers, from which +the wedding-ring looked always ready to drop off. "Joseph," she said, +"you assume confidently that he has done it; I see that. Perhaps you +know he has? Perhaps you have some proof that you are concealing?" + +"No, on my honour. But for my father's laying stress on the curious +coincidence of the disappearances at school I should not have thought of +Sanker. 'Losses there; losses here,' he said----" + +"Now then, Peter!" mocked the bird, from his perch on the old tree. + +"Be quiet!" shouted Tod. "And then the Squire went on adroitly to the +fact, without putting it into words, that nobody else seems to have been +within hail of this room either time." + +"He has had so few advantages; he is kept so short of money," murmured +poor Mrs. Todhetley, seeking to find an excuse for him. "I would almost +rather have found my boy Hugh--when he shall be old enough--guilty of +such a thing, than Edward Sanker." + +"I'd a great deal rather it had been me," I exclaimed. "I shouldn't have +felt half so uncomfortable. And we are not _sure_. Can't we keep him +here, after all? It will be an awful thing to turn him out--a thief." + +"He is not going to be turned out, a thief. Don't put in your oar, +Johnny. The pater intends to hush it up. Why! had he suspected any other +living mortal about the place, except Sanker, he'd have accused them +outright, and sent for old Jones in hot haste." + +Mrs. Todhetley, holding her hand to her troubled face, looked at Tod as +he spoke. "I am not sure, Joseph--I don't quite know whether to hush it +up entirely will be for the best. If he---- Oh!" + +The exclamation came out with a shriek. We turned at it, having been +standing together at the table, our backs to the window. There stood +Sanker. How long he had been there was uncertain; quite long enough to +hear and comprehend. His face was livid with passion, his voice hoarse +with it. + +"Is it possible that _I_ am accused of taking the bank-note and the +ring?--of having been the thief at school? I thank you, Joseph +Todhetley." + +Mrs. Todhetley, always for peace, ran before him, and took his hands. +Her gentle words were drowned--Tod's were overpowered. When quiet +fellows like Sanker do get into a rage, it's something bad to witness. + +"Look here, old fellow," said Tod, in a breath of silence; "we don't +accuse you, and don't wish to accuse you. The things going here, as they +did at school, is an unfortunate coincidence; you can't shut your eyes +to it; but as to----" + +"Why are _you_ not accused?--why's Ludlow not accused?--you were both at +school, as well as I; and you are both here," raved Sanker, panting like +a wild animal. "You have money, both of you; you don't want helping on +in life; I have only my good name. And that you would take from me!" + +"Edward, Edward! we did not wish to accuse you; we said we would not +accuse you," cried poor Mrs. Todhetley in her simplicity. But his voice +broke in. + +"No; you only suspected me. You assumed my guilt, and would not be +honest enough to accuse me, lest I refuted it. Not another hour will I +stay in this house. Come with me." + +"Don't be foolish, Sanker! If we are wrong----" + +"Be silent!" he cried, turning savagely on Tod. "I'm not strong; no +match for you, or I would pound you to atoms! Let me go my own way now. +You go yours." + +Half dragging, half leading Mrs. Todhetley with him, the angry light in +his eyes frightening her, he went to his bedroom. Taking off his jacket; +turning his pockets inside out; emptying the contents of his trunk on +the floor, he scattered the articles, one by one, with the view of +showing that he had nothing concealed belonging to other people. Mrs. +Todhetley, great in quiet emergencies, had her senses hopelessly scared +away in this; she could only cry, and implore of him to be reasonable. +He flung back his things, and in five minutes was gone. Dragging his +box down the stairs by its stout cord, he managed to hoist it on his +shoulders, and they saw him go fiercely off across the lawn. + +I met him in the plantation, beyond the Dyke. Mrs. Todhetley, awfully +distressed, sent me flying away to find the pater; she mistakenly +thought he might be at Rimmell's, who lived in a cottage beyond it. +Running home through the trees, I came upon Sanker. He was sitting on +his box, crying; great big sobs bursting from him. Of course he could +not carry _that_ far. Down I sat by him, and put my hand on his. + +"Don't, Sanker! don't, old fellow! Come back and have it cleared up. I +dare say they are all wrong together." + +His angry mood had changed. Those fierce whirlwinds of passion are +generally followed by depression. He did not seem to care an atom for +his sobs, or for my seeing them. + +"It's the cruelest wrong I ever had dealt to me, Johnny. Why should they +pitch upon _me_? What have they seen in me that they should set me down +as a thief?--and such a thief! Why, the very thought of it, if they send +her word, will kill my mother." + +"You didn't do it, Sanker. I----" + +He got up, and raised his hand solemnly to the blue sky, just as a man +might have done. + +"I swear I did not. I swear I never laid finger on a thing in your +house, or at school, that was not mine. God hears me say it." + +"And now you'll come back with me, Ned. The box will take no harm here +till we send for it." + +"Go back with you! that I never will. Fare you well, Johnny: I'll wish +it to _you_." + +"But where are you going?" + +"That's my business. Look here; I was more generous than some of you +have been. All along, I felt as _sure_ who it was, cribbing those +things at school, as though I had seen it done; but I never told. I just +whispered to the fellow, when we were parting: 'Don't you go in for the +same game next half, or I shall have you dropped upon;' and I don't +think he will." + +"Who--which was it?" I cried, eagerly. + +"No: give him a chance. It was neither you nor me, and that's enough to +know." + +Hoisting the box up on to the projecting edge of a tree, he got it on +his shoulders again. Certain of his innocence then, I was in an agony +to get him back. + +"It's of no use, Johnny. Good-bye." + +"Sanker! Ned! The Squire will be fit to smother us all, when he finds +you are off; Mrs. Todhetley is in dreadful grief. Such an unpleasant +thing has never before happened with us." + +"Good-bye," was all he repeated, marching resolutely off, with the black +box held safe by the cord. + +Fit to smother us? I thought the pater would have done it, when he came +home late in the afternoon; laying the blame of Sanker's going, first on +Mrs. Todhetley, then on Tod, then on me. + +"What is to be done?" he asked, looking at us all helplessly. "I +wouldn't have had it come out for the world. Think of his parents--of +his own prospects." + +"He never did it, sir," I said, speaking up; "he swore it to me." + +The pater gave a sniff. "Swearing does not go for much in such cases, +I'm afraid, Johnny." + +It was so hopeless, the making them understand Sanker's solemn truth as +he did swear it, that I held my tongue. I told Tod; also, what he had +said about the fellow he suspected at school; but Tod only curled his +lip, and quietly reminded me that I should never be anything but a muff. + +Three or four days passed on. We could not learn where Sanker went to, +or what had become of him; nothing about him except the fact that he had +left his box at Goody Picker's cottage, asking her to take charge of it +until it was sent for. Mrs. Todhetley would not write to Wales, or to +the school, for fear of making mischief. I know this: it was altogether +a disagreeable remembrance, whichever way we looked at it, but I was the +only one who believed in his innocence. + +On the Monday another loss occurred; not one of value in itself, but +uncommonly significant. Since the explosion, Mrs. Todhetley had moved +about the house restlessly, more like a fish out of water than a +reasonable woman, following the Squire to his room, and staying there to +talk with him, as she never had before. It was always in her head to +do something to mend matters; but, what, she could not tell; hence her +talkings with the pater. As each day passed, bringing no news of Sanker, +she grew more anxious and fidgety. While he was in his room on the +Monday morning, she came in with her work. It was the unpicking some +blue ribbons from a white body of Lena's. There had been a child's party +at the Stirlings' (they were always giving them), and Lena had a new +frock for it. The dressmaker had put a glistening glass thing, as big as +a pea, in the bows that tied up the sleeves. They looked like diamonds. +The pater made a fuss after we got home, saying it was inconsistent at +the best; she was too young for real diamonds, and he would not have +her wear mock rubbish. Well, Mrs. Todhetley had the frock in her hand, +taking these bows off, when she came to the Squire on the Monday +morning, chattering and lamenting. I saw and heard her. On going away +she accidentally left one of them on the table. The Squire went about as +usual, dodging in and out of the room at intervals like a dog in a fair. +I sat on the low seat, on the other side of the hedge, in the vegetable +garden, making a fishing-line and flinging stones at the magpie whenever +he came up to his perch on the old tree's stump. All was still; nothing +to be heard but his occasional croak, "Now then, Peter!" Presently I +caught a soft low whistle behind me. Looking through the hedge, I saw +Roger Monk coming out of the room with stealthy steps, and going off +towards his greenhouses. I thought nothing of it; it was his ordinary +way of walking; but he must have come up to the room very quietly. + +"Johnny," came the Squire's voice by-and-by, and I ran round: he had +seen me sitting there. + +"Johnny, have you a mind for a walk to----" + +He had got thus far when Mrs. Todhetley came in by the inner door, and +began looking on the table. Nothing in the world was on it except the +inkstand, the _Worcester Herald_, and the papers before the Squire. + +"I must have left one of the blue knots here," she said. + +"You did; I saw it," said the Squire; and he took up his papers one by +one, and shook the newspaper. + +Well, the blue shoulder-knot was gone. Just as we had searched for the +ring, we searched for that: under the matting, and above the matting, +and everywhere; I and those two. A grim look came over the Squire's +face. + +"The thief is amongst us still. He has taken that glittering paste thing +for a diamond. This clears Sanker." + +Mrs. Todhetley burst into glad sobs. I had never seen her so excited; +you might have thought her an hysterical girl. She would do all +sorts of things at once; the least of which was, starting in a +post-chaise-and-four for Wales. + +"Do nothing," said the Squire, with authority. "I had news of Sanker +this morning, and he's back at school. He wrote me a letter." + +"Oh, why did you not show it me?" asked Mrs. Todhetley, through her +tears. + +"Because it's a trifle abusive; actionable, a lawyer might say," he +answered, stopping a laugh. "Ah! ha! a big diamond! I'm as glad of this +as if anybody had left me a thousand pounds," continued the good old +pater. "I've not had that boy out of my head since, night or day. We'll +have him back to finish his holidays--eh, Johnny?" + +Whether I went along on my head or my tail, doing the Squire's errand, I +didn't exactly know. To my mind the thief stood disclosed--Roger Monk. +But I did not much like to betray him to the Squire. As a compromise +between duty and disinclination, I told Tod. He went straight off to the +Squire, and Roger Monk was ordered to the room. + +He did not take the accusation as Sanker took it--noisily. About +as cool and hardy as any fellow could be, stood he; white, angry +retaliation shining from his sullen face. And, for once, he looked full +at the Squire as he spoke. + +"This is the second time I have been accused wrongfully by you or yours, +sir. You must prove your words. A bank-note, a ring, a false diamond +(taken to be a true one), in a blue ribbon; and I have stolen them. +If you don't either prove your charge to be true, or withdraw the +imputation, the law shall make you, Mr. Todhetley. I am down in the +world, obliged to take a common situation for a while; but that's no +reason why I should be browbeat and put upon." + +Somehow, the words, or the manner, told upon the Squire. He was not +feeling sure of his grounds. Until then he had never cast a thought of +ill on Roger Monk. + +"What were you doing here, Monk? What made you come up stealthily, and +creep stealthily away again?" demanded Tod, who had assumed the guilt +out and out. + +"As to what I was doing here, I came to ask a question about my work," +coolly returned Monk. "I walked slowly, not stealthily; the day's hot." + +"You had better turn out your pockets, Monk," said the Squire. + +He did so at once, just as Sanker had done unbidden, biting his lips to +get some colour into them. Lots of odds and ends of things were there; +string, nails, a tobacco-pipe, halfpence, and such like; but no blue +bow. I don't think the Squire knew whether to let him off as innocent, +or to give him into custody as guilty. At any rate, he seemed to be in +hesitation, when who should appear on the scene but Goody Picker. The +turned-out pockets, Monk's aspect, and the few words she caught, told +the tale. + +"If you please, Squire--if you please, young masters," she began, +dropping a curtsy to us in succession; "the mistress told me to come +round here. Stepping up this morning about a job o' work I'm doing--for +Mrs. Hannah, I heard of the losses that have took place, apperiently +thefts. So I up and spoke; and Hannah took me to the mistress; and the +mistress, who had got her gownd off a-changing of it, listened to what I +had to say, and telled me to come round at once to Mr. Todhetley. (Don't +you be frighted, Monk.) Sir, young gentlemen, I think it might have been +the magpie." + +"Think who might have been the magpie?" asked the Squire, puzzled. + +"What stole the things. Sir, that there pie, bought only t'other day +from my gran'son by young Mr. Todhetley, was turned out o' my son +Peter's home at Alcester for thieving. He took this, and he took that; +he have been at it for weeks, ever since they'd had him. They thought +it was the servant, and sent her away. (A dirty young drab she was, so +'twere no loss.) Not her, though; it were that beast of a magpie. A +whole nest of goods he had got hid away in the brewhouse: but for having +a brewing on, he might never ha' been found out. The woman was drawing +off her second mash when she see him hop in with a new shirt wristban' +and drop it into the old iron pot." + +Tod, who believed the story to be utterly unreasonable--got up, +perhaps, by Mother Picker to screen the real thief--resented the +imputation on his magpie. The bird came hopping up to us, "Now, then, +Peter." + +"That's rather too good, Mrs. Picker, that is. I have heard of +lodging-house cats effecting wonders in the way of domestic +disappearances, but not of magpies. Look at him, poor old fellow! He +can't speak to defend himself." + +"Yes, look at him, sir," repeated Mother Picker; "and a fine objec' of a +half-fed animal he is, to look at! My opinion is, he have got something +wrong o' the inside of him, or else it's his sins that troubles his +skin, for the more he's give to eat the thinner he gets. No feathers, no +flesh; nothing but a big beak, and them bright eyes, and the deuce's own +tongue for impedence. Which is begging pard'n for speaking up free," +concluded Mother Picker, as Mrs. Todhetley came in, fastening her +waistband. + +A little searching, not a tithe of what had been before again and +again, and the creature's nest was discovered. In a cavity of the old +tree-stump, so conveniently opposite, lay the articles: the bank-note, +the ring, the blue bow, and some other things, most of which had not +been missed. One was a bank receipt, that the house had been hunted for +high and low. + +"Now, then, Peter!" cried the magpie, hopping about on the gravel as +he watched the raid on his treasures. + +"He must be killed to-day, Joe," said Mr. Todhetley; "he has made +mischief enough. I never took kindly to him. Monk, I am sorry for the +mistake I was led into; but we suspected others before you--ay, and +accused them." + +"Don't mention it, sir," replied Monk, his eye catching mine. And if +ever I saw revenge written in a face, it was in his as he turned away. + + + + +ROGER MONK. + + +I'd never seen such a scene before; I have not seen one since. Perhaps, +in fact, the same thing had never happened. + +What had done it nobody could imagine. It was as if the place had been +smoked out with some deleterious stuff; some destructive or poisoning +gases, fatal to vegetable life. + +On the previous day but one, Tuesday, there had been a party at the +Manor. Squire and Mrs. Todhetley did not go in for much of that kind of +thing, but some girls from London were staying with the Jacobsons, and +we all went over to a dance there on the Friday. After supper some of +them got talking to Mrs. Todhetley, asking in a laughing sort of way why +_she_ did not give them one? she shook her head, and answered that we +were quiet people. Upon that Tod spoke up, and said he had no doubt the +Squire would give one if asked; would like to do it. Had Mrs. Todhetley +gone heartily into the proposal at once, Tod would have thrown cold +water on it. That was his obstinacy. The girls attacked the Squire, and +the thing was settled; the dance being fixed for the following Tuesday. + +I know Mrs. Todhetley thought it an awful trouble; the Squire openly +said it was when we got home; and he grumbled all day on Saturday. You +see, our servants were not used to fashionable parties; neither in +truth were their masters. However, if it had to be done at all, it was +to be done well. The laundry was cleared out for dancing; the old square +ironing-stove taken away, and a few pictures were done round with +wreaths of green and hung on the yellow-washed walls. The supper-table +was laid in the dining-room; leaving the drawing-room free for +reception. + +It was the Squire thought of having the plants brought into the hall. +He never could say afterwards it was anybody but him. His grumbling +was got over by the Tuesday morning, and he was as eager as any of us. +He went about in his open nankeen coat and straw hat, puffing and +blowing, and saying he hoped we should relish it--_he_ wouldn't dance +in the dog-days. + +"I should like to see you dance in any days now, sir," cried Tod. + +"You impudent rascals! You must laugh, too, must you, Johnny! I can tell +you young fellows what--you'll neither of you dance a country dance as +we'd used to do it. You should have seen us at the wake. Once when we +militia chaps were at the Ram, at Gloucester, for a week's training, we +gave a ball there, and footed it till daylight. 'We bucks at the Ram;' +that's what we called ourselves: but most of us are dead and gone now. +Look here, boys," continued the pater after a pause, "I'll have the +choice plants brought into the hall. If we knock up a few sconces for +candles on the walls, their colours will show out well." + +He went out to talk to Roger Monk about it. Mrs. Todhetley was in the +kitchen over the creams and jellies and things, fit to faint with heat. +Jenkins, the head-gardener was back then, but he was stiff yet, not +likely to be of permanent good; so Roger Monk was kept on as chief. +Under the pater's direction the sets of green steps were brought in and +put on either side of the hall, as many sets as there was space for; and +the plants were arranged upon them. + +I'd tell you the different sorts but that you might think it tedious. +They were choice and beautiful. Mr. Todhetley took pride in his flowers, +and spared no expense. Geraniums of all colours, tulips, brilliant +roses, the white lily and the purple iris; and the rarer flowers, with +hard names that nobody can spell. It was like a lovely garden, rising +tier upon tier; a grove of perfume that the guests would pass through. +They managed the wax-lights well; and the colours, pink, white, violet, +green, orange, purple, scarlet, blue, shone out as the old east window +in Worcester Cathedral used to do when it sparkled in the morning sun. + +It went off first-rate. Some of the supper sweet dishes fell out of +shape with the heat; but they were just as good to eat. In London, +the thing you call "society" is made up of form and coldness, and +artificialism; with us county people it is honest openness. There, any +failure on the table is looked away from, not supposed to be seen; at +the supper at Squire Todhetley's the tumble-down dishes were introduced +as a topic of regret. "And to think it should be so, after all the pains +I bestowed on them!" added Mrs. Todhetley, not hesitating to say that +she had been the confectioner and pastry-cook. + +But it is not of the party I have to tell you. It was jolly; and +everyone said what a prime ball-room the laundry made. I dare say if we +had been London fashionables we should have called it the "library," and +made believe we'd had the books taken out. + +Getting ready for company is delightful; but putting things to rights +the next day is rather another thing. The plants were carried back +to their places again in the greenhouse--a large, long, commodious +greenhouse--and appeared none the worse for their show. The old folks, +whose dancing-days were over, had spent half the night in the cool hall, +admiring these beautiful plants; and the pater told this to Roger Monk +as he stood with him in the greenhouse after they were put back. I was +there, too. + +"I'm glad they were admired, sir," said Monk in answer. "I've taken +pains with them, and I think they do the Manor credit." + +"Well, truth to say, Monk, it's a better and brighter collection than +Jenkins ever got. But you must not tell him I say so. I do take a pride +in my greenhouse; my father did before me. I remember your mother +spending a day here once, Johnny, before you were born, and she said of +all the collections in the two counties of Warwick and Worcester, ours +was the finest. It came up to Lord Coventry's; not as large, of course, +but the plants in the same prime condition." + +"Yes, sir: I've seen the conservatories at Croome," returned Monk, who +generally went in for large names. + +"The late Lord Coventry--Yes! Here! Who's calling?" + +Tod's voice outside, shouting for the Squire, caused the break. He had +got Mr. Duffham with him; who wanted to ask about some parish business; +and they came to the greenhouse. + +So that made another admirer. Old Duff turned himself and his cane +about, saying the colours looked brighter by daylight than waxlight; and +he had not thought it possible the night before that they could do it. +He stole a piece of geranium to put in his button-hole. + +"By the way, Monk, when are you going over to Evesham about those seeds +and things?" asked the Squire, as he was departing with old Duff. + +"I can go when you like, sir." + +"Go to-morrow, then. Start with the cool of the morning. Jenkins can do +what has to be done, for once. You had better take the light cart." + +"Very well, sir," answered Monk. But he had never once looked in the +Squire's face as he answered. + +The next morning was Thursday. Tod and I were up betimes to go fishing. +There was a capital stream--but I've not time for that now. It was +striking six as we went out of the house, and the first thing I saw was +Jenkins coming along, his face as white as a sheet. He was a big man +once, of middle height, but thin and stooping since his last bout of +rheumatism; grey whiskers, blue eyes, and close upon fifty. + +"I say, Tod, look at old Jenkins! He must be ill again." + +Not ill but frightened. His lips were of a bluey grey, like one whom +some great terror has scared. Tod stared as he came nearer, for they +were trembling as well as blue. + +"What's up, Jenkins?" + +"I don't know what, Mr. Joe. The devil has been at work." + +"Whereabouts?" asked Tod. + +"Come and see, sir." + +He turned back towards the greenhouse, but not another word would he +say, only pointed to it. Leaving the fishing-rods on the path, we set +off to run. + +Never had I seen such a scene before; as I told you at the beginning. +The windows were shut, every crevice where a breath of air might enter +seemed to be hermetically closed; a smell as of some sulphurous acid +pervaded the air; and the whole show of plants had turned to ruin. + +A wreck complete. Colour was gone; leaves and stems were gone; the sweet +perfume was gone; nothing remained, so to say, but the pots. It was as +if some burning blast had passed through the greenhouse, withering to +death every plant that stood in it, and the ripening grapes above. + +"What on earth can have done this?" cried Tod to Jenkins, when he was +able to speak. + +"Well, Mr. Joseph, I say nothing _could_ have done it but the----" + +"Don't talk rubbish about the devil, Jenkins. He does not work in quite +so practical a way. Open the windows." + +"I was on by half-past five, sir, not coming here at first, but----" + +"Where's Monk this morning?" again interrupted Tod, who had turned +imperative. + +"The Squire sent him over to Evesham for the seeds. I heard him go by in +the light cart." + +"Sent him when?" + +"Yesterday, I suppose; that is, told him to go. Monk came to me last +evening and said I must be on early. He started betimes; it was long +afore five when I heard the cart go by. I should know the rattle of that +there light cart anywhere, Mr. Joe." + +"Never mind the cart. What has done _this_?" + +That was the question. What had done it? Some blasting poison must have +been set to burn in the greenhouse. Such substances might be common +enough, but we knew nothing of them. We examined the place pretty +carefully, but not a trace of any proof was discovered. + +"What's this?" cried out Jenkins, presently. + +Some earthenware pot-stands were stacked on the ground at the far end of +the greenhouse--Mrs. Todhetley always called them saucers--Jenkins had +been taking two or three of the top ones off, and came upon one that +contained a small portion of some soft, white, damp substance, smelling +just like the smell that pervaded the greenhouse--a suffocating smell +that choked you. Some sulphuric acid was in the tool-house; Tod fetched +the bottle, poured a little on the stuff, and set it alight. + +Instantly a white smoke arose, and a smell that sent us off. Jenkins, +looking at it as if it were alive and going to bite him, carried it at +arm's length out to the nearest bed, and heaped mould upon it. + +"That has done it, Mr. Joseph. But I should like to know what the white +stuff is. It's some subtle poison." + +We took the stack of pot-stands off one by one. Six or eight of them +were perfectly clean, as if just wiped out. Jenkins gave his opinion +again. + +"Them clean saucers have all had the stuff burning in 'em this night, +and they've done their work well. Somebody, which it must be the villain +himself, has been in and cleaned 'em out, overlooking one of 'em. I can +be upon my word the stands were all dusty enough last Tuesday, when the +greenhouse was emptied for the ball, for I stacked 'em myself one upon +another." + +Tod took up his perch on the edge of the shut-in brick stove, and +surveyed the wreck. There was not a bit of green life remaining, not a +semblance of it. When he had done looking he stared at me, then at +Jenkins; it was his way when puzzled or perplexed. + +"Have you seen anybody about here this morning, Jenkins?" + +"Not a soul," responded Jenkins, ruefully. "I was about the beds and +places at first, and when I came up here and opened the door, the smoke +and smell knocked me back'ards. When I see the plants--leastways what +was the plants--with their leaves and blossoms and stems all black and +blasted, I says to myself, 'The devil must have been in here;' and I was +on my way to tell the master so when you two young gents met me." + +"But it's time some of them were about," cried Tod. "Where's Drew? Is he +not come?" + +"Drew be hanged for a lazy vagabond!" retorted old Jenkins. "He never +comes on much afore seven, he doesn't. Monk threatened last week to get +his wages stopped for him. I did stop 'em once, afore I was ill." + +Drew was the under-gardener, an active young fellow of nineteen. There +was a boy as well, but it happened that he was away just now. Almost as +Jenkins spoke, Drew came in view, leaping along furiously towards the +vegetable garden, as though he knew he was late. + +"Halloa, Drew!" + +He recognized Tod's voice, turned, and came into the greenhouse. His +look of amazement would have made a picture. + +"Sakes alive! Jenkins, what have done this?" + +"Do you know anything about it, Drew?" asked Tod. + +"Me, sir?" answered Drew, turning his wide-open eyes on Tod, in surprise +at the question. "I don't as much as know what it _is_." + +"Mr. Joe, I think the master ought to be told of this," said Jenkins. +"As well get it over." + +He meant the explosion of wrath that was sure to come when the Squire +saw the ravages. Tod never stirred. Who was to tell him? It was like the +mice proposing to bell the cat: nobody offered to do it. + +"You go, Johnny," said Tod, by-and-by. "Perhaps he's getting up now." + +I went. I always did what he ordered me, and heard Mrs. Todhetley in her +dressing-room. She had her white petticoats on, doing her hair. When I +told her, she just backed into a chair and turned as white as Jenkins. + +"What's that, Johnny?" roared out the Squire from his bed. I hadn't +noticed that the door between the rooms was open. + +"Something is wrong in the greenhouse, sir." + +"Something wrong in the greenhouse! What d'ye mean, lad?" + +"He says the plants are spoiled, and the grapes," interrupted Mrs. +Todhetley, to help me. + +"Plants and grapes spoiled! You must be out of your senses, Johnny, to +say such a thing. What has spoiled them?" + +"It looks like some--blight," I answered, pitching upon the word. +"Everything's dead and blackened." + +Downstairs I rushed for fear he should ask more. And down came the pater +after me, hardly anything on, so to say; not shaved, and his nankeen +coat flying behind him. + +I let him go on to get the burst over. When I reached them, they were +talking about the key. It was customary for the head-gardener to lock +the greenhouse at night. For the past month or so there had been, as may +be said, two head-gardeners, and the key had been left on the ledge at +the back of the greenhouse, that whichever of them came on first in the +morning might get in. + +The Squire stormed at this--with that scene before his eyes he was ready +to storm at everything. Pretty gardeners, they were! leaving the key +where any tramp, hiding about the premises for a night's lodging, might +get into the greenhouse and steal what he chose! As good leave the key +in the door, as hang it up outside it! The world had nothing but fools +in it, as he believed. + +Jenkins answered with deprecation. The key was not likely to be found +by anybody but those that knew where to look for it. It always had a +flower-pot turned down upon it; and so he had found it that morning. + +"If all the tramps within ten miles got into the greenhouse, sir, they'd +not do this," affirmed Tod. + +"Hold your tongue," said the Squire; "what do you know about tramps? +I've known them to do the wickedest things conceivable. My beautiful +plants! And look at the grapes! I've never had a finer crop of grapes +than this was, Jenkins," concluded the pater, in a culminating access +of rage. "If I find this has arisen through any neglect of yours and +Monk's, I'll--I'll hang you both." + +The morning went on; breakfast was over, and the news of the strange +calamity spread. Old Jones, the constable, had been sent for by the +Squire. He stared, and exclaimed, and made his comments; but he was not +any the nearer hitting upon the guilty man. + +About ten, Roger Monk got home from Evesham. We heard the spring-cart go +round to the stables, and presently he appeared in the gardens, looking +at objects on either side of the path, as was his usual wont. Then he +caught sight of us, standing in and about the greenhouse, and came on +faster. Jenkins was telling the story of his discovery to Mr. Duffham. +He had told it a good fifty times since early morning to as many +different listeners. + +They made way for Monk to come in, nobody saying a word. The pater stood +inside, and Monk, touching his hat, was about to report to him of his +journey, when the strange aspect of affairs seemed to strike him dumb. +He looked round with a sort of startled gaze at the walls, at the glass +and grapes above, at the destroyed plants, and then turned savagely on +Jenkins, speaking hoarsely. + +"What have you been up to here?" + +"_Me_ been up to! That's good, that is! What had _you_, been up to +afore you went off? You had the first chance. Come, Mr. Monk." + +The semi-accusation was spoken by Jenkins on the spur of the moment, in +his anger at the other's words. Monk was in a degree Jenkins's protégé, +and it had not previously occurred to him that _he_ could be in any way +to blame. + +"What do you know of this wicked business, Monk?" asked the Squire. + +"What should I know of it, sir? I have only just come in from Evesham. +The things were all right last night." + +"How did you leave the greenhouse last night?" + +"Exactly as I always leave it, sir. There was nothing the matter with it +then. Drew--I saw him outside, didn't I? Step here, Drew. You were with +me when I locked up the greenhouse last night. Did you see anything +wrong with it?" + +"It were right enough then," answered Drew. + +Monk turned himself about, lifting his hands in dismay, as one blackened +object after another came under view. "I never saw such a thing!" he +cried piteously. "There has been something wrong at work here; or +else----" + +Monk came to a sudden pause. "Or else what?" asked the Squire. + +"Or else, moving the plants into the hall on Tuesday has killed them." + +"Moving the plants wouldn't kill them. What are you thinking of, Monk?" + +"_Moving_ them would not kill them, sir, or hurt them either," returned +Monk, with a stress on the first word; "but it might have been the +remote cause of it." + +"I don't understand you!" + +"I saw some result of the sort once, sir. It was at a gentleman's place +at Chiswick. All the choice plants were taken indoors to improvise a +kind of conservatory for a night fête. They were carried back the next +day, seemingly none the worse, and on the morrow were found withered." + +"Like these?" + +"No, sir, not so bad as these. They didn't die; they revived after a +time. A great fuss was made over it; the gentleman thought it must be +wilful damage, and offered twenty pounds reward for the discovery of the +offenders. At last it was found they had been poisoned by the candles." + +"Poisoned by the candles!" + +"A new sort of candle, very beautiful to look at, but with a great +quantity of arsenic in it," continued Monk. "A scientific man gave it as +his opinion that the poison thrown out from the candles had been fatal +to the plants. Perhaps something of the same kind has done the mischief +here, sir. Plants are such delicate things!" + +"And what has been fatal to the grapes? _They_ were not taken into the +house." + +The question came from the surgeon, Mr. Duffham. He had stood all the +while against the end of the far steps, looking fixedly at Monk over the +top of his cane. Monk put his eyes on the grapes above, and kept them +there while he answered. + +"True, sir; the grapes, as you say, didn't go in. Perhaps the poison +brought back by the plants may have acted on them." + +"Now, I tell you what, Monk, I think that's all nonsense," cried the +Squire, testily. + +"Well, sir, I don't see any other way of accounting for this state of +things." + +"The greenhouse was filled with some suffocating, smelling, blasting +stuff that knocked me back'ards," put in Jenkins. "Every crack and +crevice was stopped where a breath of air could have got in. I wish it +had been you to find it; you'd not have liked to be smothered alive, I +know." + +"I wish it had been," said Monk. "If there was any such thing here, and +not your fancy, I'll be bound I'd have traced it out." + +"Oh, would you! Did you do anything to them there pot-stands?" continued +Jenkins, pointing to them. + +"No." + +"Oh! Didn't clean 'em out?" + +"I wiped a few out on Wednesday morning before we brought back the +plants. Somebody--Drew, I suppose--had stacked them in the wrong place. +In putting them right, I began to wipe them. I didn't do them all; I was +called away." + +"'Twas me stacked 'em," said Jenkins. "Well--them stands are what had +held the poison; I found a'most one-half of 'em filled with it." + +Monk cast a rapid glance around. "What was the poison?" he asked. + +Jenkins grunted, but gave no other reply. The fact was, he had been so +abused by the Squire for having put away the trace of the "stuff," that +it was a sore subject. + +"Did you come on here, Monk, before you started for Evesham this +morning?" questioned the Squire. + +"I didn't come near the gardens, sir. I had told Jenkins last night to +be on early," replied Monk, bending over a blackened row of plants while +he spoke. "I went the back way to the stables through the lane, had +harnessed the horse to the cart, and was away before five." + +We quitted the greenhouse. The pater went out with Mr. Duffham, Tod and +I followed. I, looking quietly on, had been struck with the contrast of +manner between old Duff and Monk--he peering at Monk with his searching +gaze, never once taking it off him; and Monk meeting nobody's eyes, but +shifting his own anywhere rather than meet them. + +"About this queer arsenic tale Monk tells?" began the Squire. "Is there +anything in it? Will it hold water?" + +"Moonshine!" said old Duff, with emphasis. + +The tone was curious, and we all looked at him. He had got his lips +drawn in, and the top of his cane pressing them. + +"Where did you take Monk from, Squire? Get a good character with him?" + +"Jenkins brought him here. As to character, he had never been in any +situation before. Why? Do you suspect him?" + +"Um-m-m!" said the doctor, prolonging the sound as though in doubt. "If +I do suspect him, he has caused me to. I never saw such a shifty manner +in all my life. Why, he never once looked at any of us! His eyes are +false, and his tones are false!" + +"His tones? Do you mean his words?" + +"I mean the tone his words are spoken in. To an apt ear, the sound of +a man's voice, or woman's either, can be read off like a book; a man's +voice is honest or dishonest according to his nature; and you can't +make a mistake about it. Monk's has a false ring in it, if ever I heard +one. Now, master Johnny, what are you looking so eager about?" + +"I think Monk's voice false, too, Mr. Duffham; I have thought himself +false all along. Tod knows I have." + +"I know that you are just a muff, Johnny, going in for prejudices +against people unreasonably," said Tod, putting me down as usual. + +Old Duff pushed my straw hat up, and passed his fingers over the top of +my forehead. "Johnny, my boy," he said, "you have a strong and good +indication here for reading the world. _Trust to it._" + +"I couldn't trust Monk. I never have trusted him. That was one reason +why I suspected him of stealing the things the magpie took." + +"Well, you were wrong there," said Tod. + +"Yes. But I'm nearly sure I was right in the thing before." + +"What thing?" demanded old Duff, sharply. + +"Well, I thought it was Monk that frightened Phoebe." + +"Oh," said Mr. Duffham. "Dressed himself up in a sheet, and whitened his +face, and went up the lane when the women were watching for the shadows +on St. Mark's Eve! What else do you suspect, Johnny?" + +"Nothing else, sir; except that I fancied Mother Picker knew of it. When +Tod and I went to ask her whether Monk was out that night, she looked +frightened to death, and broke a basin." + +"Did she say he was out?" + +"She said he was not out; but I thought she said it more eagerly than +truthfully." + +"Squire, when you are in doubt as to people's morals, let this boy read +them for you," said old Duff, in his quaint way. The Squire, thinking of +his plants, looked as perplexed as could be. + +"It is such a thing, you know, Duffham, to have one's whole hothouse +destroyed in a night. It's no better than arson." + +"And the incendiary who did it would have no scruple in attacking the +barns next; therefore, he must be bowled out." + +The pater looked rueful. He could bluster and threaten, but he could +not _do_ much; he never knew how to set about it. In all emergencies he +would send for Jones--the greatest old woman going. + +"You don't seriously think it could have been Monk, Duffham?" + +"I think there's strong suspicion that it was. Look here:" and the +doctor began to tell off points with his cane and fingers. "_Somebody_ +goes into the greenhouse to set the stuff alight in the pot-stands--for +that's how it was done. Monk and Jenkins alone knew where the key was; +Jenkins, a trusty man, years in the employ, comes on at six and finds +the state of things. Where's Monk? Gone off by previous order to Evesham +at five. Why should it happen the very morning he was away? What was to +prevent his stealing into the greenhouse after dark last night putting +his deleterious stuff to work, leaving it to burn, and stealing in +again at four this morning to put all traces away? He thought he cleaned +out all the tale-telling earthen saucers, but he overlooks one, as +is usually the case. When he comes back, finding the wreck and the +commotion consequent upon it, he relates a glib tale of other plants +destroyed by arsenic from candles, and he never looks honestly into a +single face as he tells it!" + +The Squire drew a deep breath. "And you say Monk did all this?" + +"Nonsense, Squire. I say he might have done it. I say, moreover, that +it looks very like it. Putting Monk aside, your scent would be wholly +at fault." + +"What is to be done?" + +"I'll go and see Mother Picker; she can tell what time he went in last +night, and what time he came out this morning," cried Tod, who was just +as hasty as the pater. But old Duff caught him as he was vaulting off. + +"_I_ had better see Mother Picker. Will you let me act in this matter, +Squire, and see what can be made of it?" + +"Do, Duffham. Take Jones to help you?" + +"Jones be shot," returned Duff in a passion. "If I wanted any +one--which I _don't_--I'd take Johnny. He is worth fifty Joneses. +_Say nothing_--nothing at all. Do you understand?" + +He went off down a side path, and crossed Jenkins, who was at work now. +Monk stayed in the greenhouse. + +"This is a sad calamity, Jenkins." + +"It's the worst _I_ ever met with, sir," cried Jenkins, touching his +hat. "And what have done it is the odd thing. Monk, he talks of the +candles poisoning of 'em; but I don't know." + +"Well, there's not a much surer poison than arsenic, Jenkins," said the +doctor, candidly. "I hope it will be cleared up. Monk, too, has taken so +much pains with the plants. He is a clever young man in his vocation. +Where did you hear of him?" + +Jenkins's answer was a long one. Curtailed, it stated that he had heard +of Monk "promiskeous." He had thought him a gentleman till he asked if +he, Jenkins, could help him to a place as ornamental gardener. He had +rather took to the young man, and recommended the Squire to employ him +"temporay," for he, Jenkins, was just then falling sick with rheumatism. + +Mr. Duffham nodded approvingly. "Didn't think it necessary to ask for +references?" + +"Monk said he could give me a cart-load a'most of them, sir, if I'd +wanted to see 'em." + +"Just so! Good-day, Jenkins, I can't stay gossiping my morning away." + +He went straight to Mrs. Picker's, and caught her taking her luncheon +off the kitchen-table--bread-and-cheese, and perry. + +"It's a little cask o' last year's my son have made me a present of, +sir; if you'd be pleased to drink a cup, Dr. Duff'm," said she, +hospitably. + +She drew a half-pint cup full; bright, sparkling, full-bodied perry, +never better made in Gloucestershire. Mr. Duffham smacked his lips, and +wished some of the champagne at gentlemen's tables was half as good. He +talked, and she talked; and, it may be, he took her a little off her +guard. Evidently, she was not cognizant of the mishap to the greenhouse. + +A nice young man that lodger of hers? Well, yes, he was; steady and +well-conducted. Talked quite like a gentleman, but wasn't uppish 'cause +o' that, and seemed satisfied with all she did for him. He was gone off +to Evesham after seeds and other things. Squire Todhetley put great +confidence in him. + +"Ay," said Mr. Duffham, "to be sure. One does put confidence in steady +young men, you know, Goody. He was off by four o'clock, wasn't he?" + +Earlier nor that, Goody Picker thought. Monk were one o' them who liked +to take time by the forelock, and get his extra work forrard when he +were put on to any. + +"Nothing like putting the shoulder to the wheel. This _is_ perry! The +next time I call to see your son Peter, at Alcester, I shall ask him if +he can't get some for me. As to Monk--you might have had young fellows +here who'd have idled their days away, and paid no rent, Goody. Monk was +at his work late last night, too, I fancy?" + +Goody fancied he had been; leastways he went out after supper, and were +gone an hour or so. What with the fires, and what with the opening and +shutting o' the winders to keep the hot-houses at proper temperture, an +head-gardener didn't sit on a bed o' idle roses, as Dr. Duff'm knew. + +Mr. Duffham was beginning to make pretty sure of winning his game. His +manner suddenly changed. Pushing the empty cup from him, he leaned +forward, and laid hold of Mrs. Picker by the two wrists. Between the +perry and the doctor's sociability and Monk's merits, her eyes had begun +to sparkle. + +"Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Picker. I have come here to ask you a question, +_and you must answer me_. But you have nothing to fear on your own +score, provided you tell me the truth honestly. Young men will do +foolish things, however industrious they may be. Why did Monk play that +prank on Easter Monday?" + +The sparkle in the eyes faded with fright. She would have got away, but +could not, and so put on an air of wonder. + +"On Easter Monday! What were it he did on Easter Monday?" + +"When he put himself and his face into white, and went to the churchyard +by moonlight to represent the dead, you know, Mrs. Picker." + +She gave a shrill scream, got one of her hands loose and flung it up to +her face. + +"Come, Goody, you had better answer me quietly than be taken to confess +before Squire Todhetley. I dare say you were not to blame." + +Afore Squire Todhetley! O-o-o-o-o-h! Did they know it at the Manor? + +"Well," said Mr. Duffham, "you see I know it, and I have come straight +from there. Now then, my good woman, I have not much time." + +Goody Picker's will was good to hold out longer, but she surrendered à +coup de main, as so many of us have to do when superior power is brought +to bear. Monk overheered it, was the substance of her answer. On coming +in from work that there same blessed evening--and look at him now! at +his work on a Easter Monday till past dark!--he overheered the two +servants, Molly and Hannah, talking of what they was going out to watch +for--the shadows in the churchyard. He let 'em go, never showing hisself +till they'd left the house. Then he got the sheets from his bed, and put +the flour on his face, and went on there to frighten 'em; all in fun. +He never thought of hurting the women; he never knowed as the young +girl, Phoebe, was to be there. Nobody could be more sorry for it nor +he was; but he'd never meant to do harm more nor a babby unborn. + +Mr. Duffham released the hands. Looking back in reflection, he had +little doubt it was as she said--that Monk had done it out of pure +sport, not intending ill. + +"He might have confessed: it would have been more honest. And you! why +did you deny that it was Monk?" + +Mrs. Picker at first could only stare in reply. Confess to it? Him? +What, and run the risk o' being put into ancuffs by that there Jones +with his fat legs? And she! a poor old widder? If Monk went and said he +didn't do it, she couldn't go and say he _did_. Doctor Duff'm might see +as there were no choice left for _her_. Never should she forget the +fright when the two young gents come in with their querries the next +day; her fingers was took with the palsy and dropped the pudd'n basin, +as she'd had fifteen year. Monk, poor fellow, couldn't sleep for a peck +o' nights after, thinking o' Phoebe. + +"There; that's enough," said Mr. Duffham. "Who is Monk? Where does he +come from?" + +From the moon, for all Mrs. Picker knew. A civiler young man she'd not +wish to have lodging with her; paid reg'lar as the Saturdays come round; +but he never told her nothing about hisself. + +"Which is his room? The one at the back, I suppose." + +Without saying with your leave, or by your leave, as Mrs. Picker phrased +it in telling the story a long while afterwards, Mr. Duffham penetrated +at once into the lodger's room. There he took the liberty of making a +slight examination, good Mrs. Picker standing by with round eyes and +open mouth. And what he discovered caused him to stride off at once to +the pater. + +Roger Monk was not Monk at all, but somebody else. He had been +implicated in some crime (whether guilty or not remained yet a +question), and to avoid exposure had come away into this quiet locality +under a false name. In short, during the time he had been working as +gardener at Dyke Manor and living at Mother Picker's, he was in hiding. +As the son of a well-known and most respectable landscape and ornamental +nursery-man, he had become thoroughly conversant with the requisite +duties. + +"They are fools, at the best, these fellows," remarked Duffham, as he +finished his narrative. "A letter written to him by some friend betrayed +to me all this. Now why should not Monk have destroyed that letter, +instead of keeping it in his room, Squire?" + +The Squire did not answer. All he could do just now was to wipe his hot +face and try to get over his amazement. Monk not a gardener or servant +at all, but an educated man! Only living there to hide from the police; +and calling himself by any name that came uppermost--which happened to +be Monk! + +"I must say there's a certain credit due to him for his patient +industry, and the perfection to which he has brought your grounds," said +Mr. Duffham. + +"And for blighting all my hot-house plants at a blow--is there credit +due to him for that?" roared out the Squire. "I'll have him tried for +it, as sure as my name's Todhetley." + +It was easier said than done. For when Mr. Jones, receiving his private +orders from the pater, went, staff in hand, to arrest Monk, that +gentleman had already departed. + +"He come into the house just as Dr. Duff'm left it," explained Mrs. +Picker. "Saying he had got to take a short journey, he put his things +into his port-manty, and went off carrying of it, leaving me a week's +rent on the table." + +"Go and catch him, Jones," sternly commanded the Squire, when the +constable came back with the above news. + +"Yes, your worship," replied Jones. But how he was to do it, taking the +gouty legs into consideration, was quite a different thing. + +The men were sent off various ways. And came back again, not having +come up with Monk. Squire Todhetley went into a rage, abused old Jones, +and told him he was no longer worth his salt. But the strangest thing +occurred in the evening. + +The pater walked over to the Court after tea, carrying the grievance +of his destroyed plants to the Sterlings. In coming up Dyke Lane as +he returned at night, where it was always darker than in other places +because the trees hid the moonlight, somebody seemed to walk right out +of the hedge upon him. + +It was Roger Monk. He raised his hat to the Squire as a gentleman +does--did not touch it as a gardener--and began pleading for clemency. + +"Clemency, after destroying a whole hot-houseful of rare plants!" cried +the Squire. + +"I never did it, sir," returned Monk, passionately. "On my word as +a man--I will not to you say as a gentleman--if the plants were not +injured by the candles, as I fully believe, I know not how they could +have been injured." + +The pater was staggered. At heart he was the best man living. Suppose +Monk _was_ innocent? + +"Look here, Monk. You know your name is----" + +"Hush, sir!" interposed Monk, hastily, as if to prevent the hedges +hearing the true name. "It is of that I have waited to speak to you; +to beseech your clemency. I have no need to crave it in the matter of +plants which I never harmed. I want to ask you to be silent, sir; not +to proclaim to the world that I am other than what I appeared to be. A +short while longer and I should have been able to prove my innocence; +things are working round. But if you set the hue-and-cry upon me----" + +"Were you innocent?" interposed the Squire. + +"I was; I swear it to you. Oh, Mr. Todhetley, think for a moment! I am +not so very much older than your son; he is not more innocent than I +was; but it might happen that he--I crave your pardon, sir, but it +_might_--that he should become the companion of dissipated young +men, and get mixed up unwittingly in a disgraceful affair, whose +circumstances were so complicated that he could only fly for a time and +hide himself. What would you say if the people with whom he took refuge, +whether as servant or else, were to deliver him up to justice, and he +stood before the world an accused felon? Sir, it is my case. Keep my +secret; keep my secret, Mr. Todhetley." + +"And couldn't you prove your innocence?" cried the Squire, as he +followed out the train of ideas suggested. + +"Not at present--that I see. And when once a man has stood at a criminal +bar, it is a ban on him for life, although it may be afterwards shown he +stood there wrongly." + +"True," said the Squire, softening. + +Well--for there's no space to go on at length--the upshot was that Monk +went away with a promise; and the Squire came home to the Manor and told +Duffham, who was waiting there, that they must both be silent. Only +those two knew of the discovery; they had kept the particulars and +Monk's real name to themselves. Duff gave his head a toss, and told the +pater he was softer than old Jones. + +"How came _you_ to suspect him, Johnny?" he continued, turning on me in +his sharp way. + +"I think just for the same things that you did, Mr. Duffham--because +neither his face nor his voice is _true_." + +And--remembering his look of revenge when accused in mistake for the +magpie--I suspected him still. + + + + +THE EBONY BOX. + + +I. + +In one or two of the papers already written for you, I have spoken of +"Lawyer Cockermuth," as he was usually styled by his fellow-townspeople +at Worcester. I am now going to tell of something that happened in his +family; that actually did happen, and is no invention of mine. + +Lawyer Cockermuth's house stood in the Foregate Street. He had practised +in it for a good many years; he had never married, and his sister lived +with him. She had been christened Betty; it was a more common name in +those days than it is in these. There was a younger brother named +Charles. They were tall, wiry men with long arms and legs. John, the +lawyer, had a smiling, homely face; Charles was handsome, but given to +be choleric. + +Charles had served in the militia once, and had been ever since called +Captain Cockermuth. When only twenty-one he married a young lady with +a good bit of money; he had also a small income of his own; so he +abandoned the law, to which he had been bred, and lived as a gentleman +in a pretty little house on the outskirts of Worcester. His wife died +in the course of a few years, leaving him with one child, a son, named +Philip. The interest of Mrs. Charles Cockermuth's money would be +enjoyed by her husband until his death, and then would go to Philip. + +When Philip left school he was articled to his uncle, Lawyer Cockermuth, +and took up his abode with him. Captain Cockermuth (who was of a +restless disposition, and fond of roving), gave up his house then and +went travelling about. Philip Cockermuth was a very nice steady young +fellow, and his father was liberal to him in the way of pocket-money, +allowing him a guinea a-week. Every Monday morning Lawyer Cockermuth +handed (for his brother) to Philip a guinea in gold; the coin being in +use then. Philip spent most of this in books, but he saved some of it; +and by the time he was of age he had sixty golden guineas put aside in a +small round black box of carved ebony. "What are you going to do with +it, Philip?" asked Miss Cockermuth, as he brought it down from his room +to show her. "I don't know what yet, Aunt Betty," said Philip, laughing. +"I call it my nest-egg." + +He carried the little black box (the sixty guineas quite filled it), +back to his chamber and put it back into one of the pigeon-holes of the +old-fashioned bureau which stood in the room, where he always kept it, +and left it there, the bureau locked as usual. After that time, Philip +put his spare money, now increased by a salary, into the Old Bank; and +it chanced that he did not again look at the ebony box of gold, never +supposing but that it was safe in its hiding-place. On the occasion of +his marriage some years later, he laughingly remarked to Aunt Betty that +he must now take his box of guineas into use; and he went up to fetch +it. The box was not there. + +Consternation ensued. The family flocked upstairs; the lawyer, Miss +Betty, and the captain--who had come to Worcester for the wedding, +and was staying in the house--one and all put their hands into the +deep, dark pigeon-holes, but failed to find the box. The captain, a +hot-tempered man, flew into a passion and swore over it; Miss Betty shed +tears; Lawyer Cockermuth, always cool and genial, shrugged his shoulders +and absolutely joked. None of them could form the slightest notion as to +how the box had gone or who was likely to have taken it, and it had to +be given up as a bad job. + +Philip was married the next day, and left his uncle's house for good, +having taken one out Barbourne way. Captain Cockermuth felt very sore +about the loss of the box, he strode about Worcester talking of it, and +swearing that he would send the thief to Botany Bay if he could find +him. + +A few years more yet, and poor Philip became ill. Ill of the disorder +which had carried off his mother--decline. When Captain Cockermuth heard +that his son was lying sick, he being (as usual) on his travels, he +hastened to Worcester and took up his abode at his brother's--always his +home on these visits. The disease was making very quick progress indeed; +it was what is called "rapid decline." The captain called in all the +famed doctors of the town--if they had not been called before: but there +was no hope. + +The day before Philip died, his father spoke to him about the box of +guineas. It had always seemed to the captain that Philip must have, or +ought to have, _some_ notion of how it went. And he put the question to +him again, solemnly, for the last time. + +"Father," said the dying man--who retained all his faculties and his +speech to the very end--"I declare to you that I have none. I have never +been able to set up any idea at all upon the loss, or attach suspicion +to a soul, living or dead. The two maids were honest; they would not +have touched it; the clerks had no opportunity of going upstairs. I had +always kept the key safely, and you know that we found the lock of the +bureau had not been tampered with." + +Poor Philip died. His widow and four children went to live at a pretty +cottage on Malvern Link--upon a hundred pounds a-year, supplied to her +by her father-in-law. Mr. Cockermuth added the best part of another +hundred. These matters settled, Captain Cockermuth set off on his +rovings again, considering himself hardly used by Fate at having his +limited income docked of nearly half its value. And yet some more years +passed on. + +This much has been by way of introduction to what has to come. It was +best to give it. + +Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson, our neighbours at Dyke Manor, had a whole colony +of nephews, what with brothers' sons and sisters' sons; of nieces also; +batches of them would come over in relays to stay at Elm Farm, which had +no children of its own. Samson Dene was the favourite nephew of all; his +mother was sister to Mr. Jacobson, his father was dead. Samson Reginald +Dene he was christened, but most people called him "Sam." He had been +articled to the gentleman who took to his father's practice; a lawyer in +a village in Oxfordshire. Later, he had gone to a firm in London for a +year, had passed, and then came down to his uncle at Elm Farm, asking +what he was to do next. For, upon his brother-in-law's death, Mr. +Jacobson had taken upon himself the expenses of Sam, the eldest son. + +"Want to know what you are to do now, eh?" cried old Jacobson, who +was smoking his evening pipe by the wide fire of the dark-wainscoted, +handsome dining-parlour, one evening in February. He was a tall, portly +man with a fresh-coloured, healthy face; and not, I dare say, far off +sixty years old. "What would you like to do?--what is your own opinion +upon it, Sam?" + +"I should like to set up in practice for myself, uncle." + +"Oh, indeed! In what quarter of the globe, pray?" + +"In Worcester. I have always wished to practise at Worcester. It is the +assize town: I don't care for pettifogging places: one can't get on in +them." + +"You'd like to emerge all at once into a full-blown lawyer there? That's +your notion, is it, Sam?" + +Sam made no answer. He knew by the tone his notion was being laughed at. + +"No, my lad. When you have been in some good office for another year or +two maybe, then you might think about setting-up. The office can be in +Worcester if you like." + +"I am hard upon twenty-three, Uncle Jacobson. I have as much knowledge +of law as I need." + +"And as much steadiness also, perhaps?" said old Jacobson. + +Sam turned as red as the table-cover. He was a frank-looking, slender +young fellow of middle height, with fine wavy hair almost a gold colour +and worn of a decent length. The present fashion--to be cropped as if +you were a prison-bird and to pretend to like it so--was not favoured +by gentlemen in those days. + +"You may have been acquiring a knowledge of law in London, Sam; I hope +you have; but you've been kicking up your heels over it. What about +those sums of money you've more than once got out of your mother?" + +Sam's face was a deeper red than the cloth now. "Did she tell you of it, +uncle?" he gasped. + +"No, she didn't; she cares too much for her graceless son to betray him. +I chanced to hear of it, though." + +"One has to spend so much in London," murmured Sam, in lame apology. + +"I dare say! In my past days, sir, a young man had to cut his coat +according to his cloth. We didn't rush into all kinds of random games +and then go to our fathers or mothers to help us out of them. Which is +what you've been doing, my gentleman." + +"Does aunt know?" burst out Sam in a fright, as a step was heard on the +stairs. + +"I've not told her," said Mr. Jacobson, listening--"she is gone on into +the kitchen. How much is it that you've left owing in London, Sam?" + +Sam nearly choked. He did not perceive this was just a random shot: he +was wondering whether magic had been at work. + +"Left owing in London?" stammered he. + +"That's what I asked. How much? And I mean to know. 'Twon't be of any +use your fencing about the bush. Come! tell it in a lump." + +"Fifty pounds would cover it all, sir," said Sam, driven by desperation +into the avowal. + +"I want the truth, Sam." + +"That is the truth, uncle, I put it all down in a list before leaving +London; it comes to just under fifty pounds." + +"How could you be so wicked as to contract it?" + +"There has not been much wickedness about it," said Sam, miserably, +"indeed there hasn't. One gets drawn into expenses unconsciously in the +most extraordinary manner up in London. Uncle Jacobson, you may believe +me or not, when I say that until I added it up, I did not think it +amounted to twenty pounds in all." + +"And then you found it to be fifty! How do you propose to pay this?" + +"I intend to send it up by instalments, as I can." + +"Instead of doing which, you'll get into deeper debt at Worcester. If +it's Worcester you go to." + +"I hope not, uncle. I shall do my best to keep out of debt. I mean to be +steady." + +Mr. Jacobson filled a fresh pipe, and lighted it with a spill from the +mantelpiece. He did not doubt the young fellow's intentions; he only +doubted his resolution. + +"You shall go into some lawyer's office in Worcester for two years, Sam, +when we shall see how things turn out," said he presently. "And, look +here, I'll pay these debts of yours myself, provided you promise me not +to get into trouble again. There, no more"--interrupting Sam's grateful +looks--"your aunt's coming in." + +Sam opened the door for Mrs. Jacobson. A little pleasant-faced woman in +a white net cap, with small flat silver curls under it. She carried a +small basket lined with blue silk, in which lay her knitting. + +"I've been looking to your room, my dear, to see that all's comfortable +for you," she said to Sam, as she sat down by the table and the candles. +"That new housemaid of ours is not altogether to be trusted. I suppose +you've been telling your uncle all about the wonders of London?" + +"And something else, too," put in old Jacobson gruffly. "He wanted to +set up in practice for himself at Worcester: off-hand, red-hot!" + +"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Jacobson. + +"That's what the boy wanted, nothing less. No. Another year or two's +work in some good house, to acquire stability and experience, and then +he may talk about setting up. It will be all for the best, Sam; trust +me." + +"Well, uncle, perhaps it will." It was of no use for him to say perhaps +it won't: he could not help himself. But it was a disappointment. + +Mr. Jacobson walked over to Dyke Manor the next day, to consult the +Squire as to the best lawyer to place Sam with, himself suggesting their +old friend Cockermuth. He described all Sam's wild ways (it was how he +put it) in that dreadful place, London, and the money he had got out of +amidst its snares. The Squire took up the matter with his usual hearty +sympathy, and quite agreed that no practitioner in the law could be so +good for Sam as John Cockermuth. + +John Cockermuth proved to be agreeable. He was getting to be an elderly +man then, but was active as ever, saving when a fit of the gout took +him. He received young Dene in his usual cheery manner, upon the day +appointed for his entrance, and assigned him his place in the office +next to Mr. Parslet. Parslet had been there more than twenty years; he +was, so to say, at the top and tail of all the work that went on in it, +but he was not a qualified solicitor. Samson Dene was qualified, and +could therefore represent Mr. Cockermuth before the magistrates and what +not: of which the old lawyer expected to find the benefit. + +"Where are you going to live?" he questioned of Sam that first morning. + +"I don't know yet, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson are about the town now, I +believe, looking for lodgings for me. Of course they couldn't let _me_ +look; they'd think I should be taken in," added Sam. + +"Taken in and done for," laughed the lawyer. "I should not wonder but +Mr. Parslet could accommodate you. Can you, Parslet?" + +Mr. Parslet looked up from his desk, his thin cheeks flushing. He was +small and slight, with weak brown hair, and had a patient, sad sort of +look in his face and in his meek, dark eyes. + +James Parslet was one of those men who are said to spoil their own +lives. Left alone early, he was looked after by a bachelor uncle, a +minor canon of the cathedral, who perhaps tried to do his duty by him in +a mild sort of manner. But young Parslet liked to go his own ways, and +they were not very good ways. He did not stay at any calling he was put +to, trying first one and then another; either the people got tired of +him, or he of them. Money (when he got any) burnt a hole in his pocket, +and his coats grew shabby and his boots dirty. "Poor Jamie Parslet! how +he has spoilt his life" cried the town, shaking its pitying head at him: +and thus things went on till he grew to be nearly thirty years of age. +Then, to the public astonishment, Jamie pulled up. He got taken on by +Lawyer Cockermuth as copying clerk at twenty shillings a-week, married, +and became as steady as Old Time. He had been nothing but steady from +that day to this, had forty shillings a-week now, instead of twenty, +and was ever a meek, subdued man, as if he carried about with him a +perpetual repentance for the past, regret for the life that might have +been. He lived in Edgar Street, which is close to the cathedral, as +every one knows, Edgar Tower being at the top of it. An old gentleman +attached to the cathedral had now lodged in his house for ten years, +occupying the drawing-room floor; he had recently died, and hence Lawyer +Cockermuth's suggestion. + +Mr. Parslet looked up. "I should be happy to, sir," he said; "if our +rooms suited Mr. Dene. Perhaps he would like to look at them?" + +"I will," said Sam. "If my uncle and aunt do not fix on any for me." + +Is there any subtle mesmeric power, I wonder, that influences things +unconsciously? Curious to say, at this very moment Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson +were looking at these identical rooms. They had driven into Worcester +with Sam very early indeed, so as to have a long day before them, and +when breakfast was over at the inn, took the opportunity, which they +very rarely got, of slipping into the cathedral to hear the beautiful +ten-o'clock service. Coming out the cloister way when it was over, and +so down Edgar Street, Mrs. Jacobson espied a card in a window with +"Lodgings" on it. "I wonder if they would suit Sam?" she cried to her +husband. "Edgar Street is a nice, wide, open street, and quiet. Suppose +we look at them?" + +A young servant-maid, called by her mistress "Sally," answered the +knock. Mrs. Parslet, a capable, bustling woman of ready speech and good +manners, came out of the parlour, and took the visitors to the floor +above. They liked the rooms and they liked Mrs. Parslet; they also liked +the moderate rent asked, for respectable country people in those days +did not live by shaving one another; and when it came out that the +house's master had been clerk to Lawyer Cockermuth for twenty years, +they settled the matter off-hand, without the ceremony of consulting +Sam. Mrs. Jacobson looked upon Sam as a boy still. Mr. Jacobson might +have done the same but for the debts made in London. + +And all this, you will say, has been yet more explanation; but I could +not help it. The real thing begins now, with Sam Dene's sojourn in Mr. +Cockermuth's office, and his residence in Edgar Street. + +The first Sunday of his stay there, Sam went out to attend the morning +service in the cathedral, congratulating himself that that grand edifice +stood so conveniently near, and looking, it must be confessed, a bit of +a dandy, for he had put a little bunch of spring violets into his coat, +and "button-holes" were quite out of the common way then. The service +began with the Litany, the earlier service of prayers being held at +eight o'clock. Sam Dene has not yet forgotten that day, for it is no +imaginary person I am telling you of, and never will forget it. The +Reverend Allen Wheeler chanted, and the prebendary in residence (Somers +Cocks) preached. While wondering when the sermon (a very good one) would +be over, and thinking it rather prosy, after the custom of young men, +Sam's roving gaze was drawn to a young lady sitting in the long seat +opposite to him on the other side of the choir, whose whole attention +appeared to be given to the preacher, to whom her head was turned. It is +a nice face, thought Sam; such a sweet expression in it. It really was a +nice face, rather pretty, gentle and thoughtful, a patient look in the +dark brown eyes. She had on a well-worn dark silk, and a straw bonnet; +all very quiet and plain; but she looked very much of a lady. Wonder if +she sits there always? thought Sam. + +Service over, he went home, and was about to turn the handle of the door +to enter (looking another way) when he found it turned for him by some +one who was behind and had stretched out a hand to do it. Turning +quickly, he saw the same young lady. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Sam, all at sea; "did you wish to come in +here?" + +"If you please," she answered--and her voice was sweet and her manner +modest. + +"Oh," repeated Sam, rather taken aback at the answer. "You did not want +me, did you?" + +"Thank you, it is my home," she said. + +"Your home?" stammered Sam, for he had not seen the ghost of any one in +the house yet, saving his landlord and landlady and Sally. "Here?" + +"Yes. I am Maria Parslet." + +He stood back to let her enter; a slender, gentle girl of middle height; +she looked about eighteen, Sam thought (she was that and two years on to +it), and he wondered where she had been hidden. He had to go out again, +for he was invited to dine at Lawyer Cockermuth's, so he saw no more of +the young lady that day; but she kept dancing about in his memory. And +somehow she so fixed herself in it, and as the time went on so grew +in it, and at last so filled it, that Sam may well hold that day as a +marked day--the one that introduced him to Maria Parslet. But that is +anticipating. + +On the Monday morning all his ears and eyes were alert, listening and +looking for Maria. He did not see her; he did not hear a sound of her. +By degrees he got to learn that the young lady was resident teacher in a +lady's school hard by; and that she was often allowed to spend the whole +day at home on Sundays. One Sunday evening he ingeniously got himself +invited to take tea in Mrs. Parslet's parlour, and thus became +acquainted with Maria; but his opportunities for meeting her were rare. + +There's not much to tell of the first twelvemonth. It passed in due +course. Sam Dene was fairly steady. He made a few debts, as some young +men, left to themselves, can't help making--at least, they'd tell you +they can't. Sundry friends of Sam's in Worcester knew of this, and +somehow it reached Mr. Cockermuth's ears, who gave Sam a word of advice +privately. + +This was just as the first year expired. According to agreement, Sam had +another year to stay. He entered upon it with inward gloom. On adding up +his scores, which he deemed it as well to do after his master's lecture, +he again found that they amounted to far more than he had thought for, +and how he should contrive to pay them out of his own resources he knew +no more than the man in the moon. In short, he could not do it; he was +in a fix; and lived in perpetual dread of its coming to the ears of his +uncle Jacobson. + + * * * * * + +The spring assize, taking place early in March, was just over; the +judges had left the town for Stafford, and Worcester was settling down +again to quietness. Miss Cockermuth gave herself and her two handmaidens +a week's rest--assize time being always a busy and bustling period +at the lawyer's, no end of chance company looking in--and then the +house began its spring cleaning, a grand institution with our good +grandmothers, often lasting a couple of weeks. This time, at the +lawyer's house, it was to be a double bustle; for visitors were being +prepared for. + +It had pleased Captain Cockermuth to write word that he should be at +home for Easter; upon which, the lawyer and his sister decided to invite +Philip's widow and her children also to spend it with them; they knew +Charles would be pleased. Easter-Day was very early indeed that year, +falling at the end of March. + +To make clearer what's coming, the house had better have a word or two +of description. You entered from the street into a wide passage; no +steps. On the left was the parlour and general sitting-room, in which +all meals were usually taken. It was a long, low room, its two rather +narrow windows looking upon the street, the back of the room being a +little dark. Opposite the door was the fireplace. On the other side the +passage, facing the parlour-door, was the door that opened to the two +rooms (one front, one back) used as the lawyer's offices. The kitchens +and staircase were at the back of the passage, a garden lying beyond; +and there was a handsome drawing-room on the first floor, not much used. + +The house, I say, was in a commotion with the spring cleaning, +and the other preparations. To accommodate so many visitors +required contrivance: a bedroom for the captain, a bedroom for his +daughter-in-law, two bedrooms for the children. Mistress and maids +held momentous consultations together. + +"We have decided to put the three little girls in Philip's old room, +John," said Miss Betty to her brother, as they sat in the parlour after +dinner on the Monday evening of the week preceding Passion Week; "and +little Philip can have the small room off mine. We shall have to get in +a child's bed, though; I can't put the three little girls in one bed; +they might get fighting. John, I do wish you'd sell that old bureau for +what it will fetch." + +"Sell the old bureau!" exclaimed Mr. Cockermuth. + +"I'm sure I should. What good does it do? Unless that bureau goes out of +the room, we can't put the extra bed in. I've been in there half the day +with Susan and Ann, planning and contriving, and we find it can't be +done any way. Do let Ward take it away, John; there's no place for it in +the other chambers. He'd give you a fair price for it, I dare say." + +Miss Betty had never cared for this piece of furniture, thinking it more +awkward than useful: she looked eagerly at her brother, awaiting his +decision. She was the elder of the two; tall, like him; but whilst he +maintained his thin, wiry form, just the shape of an upright gas-post +with arms, she had grown stout with no shape at all. Miss Betty had +dark, thick eyebrows and an amiable red face. She wore a "front" of +brown curls with a high and dressy cap perched above it. This evening +her gown was of soft twilled shot-green silk, a white net kerchief was +crossed under its body, and she had on a white muslin apron. + +"I don't mind," assented the lawyer, as easy in disposition as Miss +Betty was; "it's of no use keeping it that I know of. Send for Ward and +ask him, if you like, Betty." + +Ward, a carpenter and cabinet-maker, who had a shop in the town and +sometimes bought second-hand things, was sent for by Miss Betty on the +following morning; and he agreed, after some chaffering, to buy the +old bureau. It was the bureau from which Philip's box of gold had +disappeared--but I dare say you have understood that. In the midst +of all this stir and clatter, just as Ward betook himself away after +concluding the negotiation, and the maids were hard at work above stairs +with mops and pails and scrubbing-brushes, the first advance-guard of +the visitors unexpectedly walked in: Captain Cockermuth. + +Miss Betty sat down in an access of consternation. She could do nothing +but stare. He had not been expected for a week yet; there was nothing +ready and nowhere to put him. + +"I wish you'd take to behaving like a rational being, Charles!" she +exclaimed. "We are all in a mess; the rooms upside down, and the bedside +carpets hanging out at the windows." + +Captain Cockermuth said he did not care for bedside carpets, he could +sleep anywhere--on the brewhouse-bench, if she liked. He quite approved +of selling the old bureau, when told it was going to be done. + +Ward had appointed five o'clock that evening to fetch it away. They were +about to sit down to dinner when he came, five o'clock being the hour +for late dinners then in ordinary life. Ward had brought a man with him +and they went upstairs. + +Miss Betty, as carver, sat at the top of the dining-table, her back to +the windows, the lawyer in his place at the foot, Charles between them, +facing the fire. Miss Betty was cutting off the first joint of a loin +of veal when the bureau was heard coming down the staircase, with much +bumping and noise. + +Mr. Cockermuth stepped out of the dining-room to look on. The captain +followed: being a sociable man with his fellow-townspeople, he went to +ask Ward how he did. + +The bureau came down safely, and was lodged at the foot of the stairs; +the man wiped his hot face, while Ward spoke with Captain Cockermuth. It +seemed quite a commotion in the usual quiet dwelling. Susan, a jug of +ale in her hand, which she had been to the cellar to draw, stood looking +on from the passage; Mr. Dene and a younger clerk, coming out of the +office just then to leave for the evening, turned to look on also. + +"I suppose there's nothing in here, sir?" cried Ward, returning to +business and the bureau. + +"Nothing, I believe," replied Mr. Cockermuth. + +"Nothing at all," called out Miss Betty through the open parlour-door. +"I emptied the drawers this morning." + +Ward, a cautious man and honest, drew back the lid and put his hand in +succession into the pigeon-holes; which had not been used since Philip's +time. There were twelve of them; three above, and three below on each +side, and a little drawer that locked in the middle. "Halloa!" cried +Ward, when his hand was in the depth of one of them: "here's something." + +And he drew forth the lost box. The little ebony box with all the gold +in it. + +Well now, that was a strange thing. Worcester thinks so, those people +who are still living to remember it, to this day. How it was that the +box had appeared to be lost and was searched for in vain over and +over again, by poor Philip and others; and how it was that it was now +recovered in this easy and natural manner, was never explained or +accounted for. Ward's opinion was that the box must have been put in, +side upwards, that it had in some way stuck to the back of the deep, +narrow pigeon-hole, which just about held the box in width, that those +who had searched took the box for the back of the hole when their +fingers touched it and that the bumping of the bureau now in coming +downstairs had dislodged the box and brought it forward. As a maker of +bureaus, Ward's opinion was listened to with deference. Any way, it was +a sort of theory, serving passably well in the absence of any other. But +who knew? All that was certain about it was the fact; the loss and the +recovery after many years. It happened just as here described, as I have +already said. + +Sam Dene had never heard of the loss. Captain Cockermuth, perfectly +beside himself with glee, explained it to him. Sam laughed as he touched +with his forefinger the closely packed golden guineas, lying there so +snug and safe, offered his congratulations, and walked home to tea. + +It chanced that on that especial Tuesday evening, matters were at sixes +and sevens in the Parslets' house. Sally had misbehaved herself and was +discharged in consequence; and the servant engaged in her place, who was +to have entered that afternoon, had not made her appearance. When Sam +entered, Maria came out of the parlour, a pretty blush upon her face. +And to Sam the unexpected sight of her, it was not often he got a chance +of it, and the blush and the sweet eyes came like a gleam of Eden, for +he had grown to love her dearly. Not that he had owned it to himself +yet. + +Maria explained. Her school had broken up for the Easter holidays +earlier than it ought, one of the girls showing symptoms of measles; +and her mother had gone out to see what had become of the new servant, +leaving a request that Mr. Dene would take his tea with them in the +parlour that evening, as there was no one to wait on him. + +Nothing loth, you may be sure, Mr. Dene accepted the invitation, running +up to wash his hands, and give a look at his hair, and running down in +a trice. The tea-tray stood in readiness on the parlour table, Maria +sitting behind it. Perhaps she had given a look at _her_ hair, for it +was quite more lovely, Sam thought, more soft and silken than any hair +he had ever seen. The little copper kettle sang away on the hob by the +fire. + +"Will papa be long, do you know?" began Maria demurely, feeling shy and +conscious at being thus thrown alone into Sam's company. "I had better +not make the tea until he comes in." + +"I don't know at all," answered Sam. "He went out on some business for +Mr. Cockermuth at half-past four, and was not back when I left. Such a +curious thing has just happened up there, Miss Parslet!" + +"Indeed! What is it?" + +Sam entered on the narrative. Maria, who knew all about the strange loss +of the box, grew quite excited as she listened. "Found!" she exclaimed. +"Found in the same bureau! And all the golden guineas in it!" + +"Every one," said Sam: "as I take it. They were packed right up to the +top!" + +"Oh, what a happy thing!" repeated Maria, in a fervent tone that rather +struck Sam, and she clasped her fingers into one another, as one +sometimes does in pleasure or in pain. + +"Why do you say that, Miss Parslet?" + +"Because papa--but I do not think I ought to tell you," added Maria, +breaking off abruptly. + +"Oh yes, you may. I am quite safe, even if it's a secret. Please do." + +"Well," cried the easily persuaded girl, "papa has always had an +uncomfortable feeling upon him ever since the loss. He feared that some +people, knowing he was not well off, might think perhaps it was he who +had stolen upstairs and taken it." + +Sam laughed at that. + +"He has never _said_ so, but somehow we have seen it, my mother and I. +It was altogether so mysterious a loss, you see, affording no clue as to +_when_ it occurred, that people were ready to suspect anything, however +improbable. Oh, I am thankful it is found!" + +The kettle went on singing, the minutes went on flitting, and still +nobody came. Six o'clock struck out from the cathedral as Mr. Parslet +entered. Had the two been asked the time, they might have said it was +about a quarter-past five. Golden hours fly quickly; fly on angels' +wings. + +Now it chanced that whilst they were at tea, a creditor of Sam's came +to the door, one Jonas Badger. Sam went to him: and the colloquy that +ensued might be heard in the parlour. Mr. Badger said (in quite a +fatherly way) that he really could not be put off any longer with +promises; if his money was not repaid to him before Easter he should be +obliged to take steps about it, should write to Mr. Jacobson, of Elm +Farm, to begin with. Sam returned to the tea-table with a wry face. + +Soon after that, Mrs. Parslet came in, the delinquent servant in her +rear. Next, a friend of Sam's called, Austin Chance, whose father was a +solicitor in good practice in the town. The two young men, who were very +intimate and often together, went up to Sam's room above. + +"I say, my good young friend," began Chance, in a tone that might be +taken for jest or earnest, "don't you go and get into any entanglement +in that quarter." + +"What d'you mean now?" demanded Sam, turning the colour of the rising +sun. + +"I mean Maria Parslet," said Austin Chance, laughing. "She's a deuced +nice girl; I know that; just the one a fellow might fall in love with +unawares. But it wouldn't do, Dene." + +"Why wouldn't it do?" + +"Oh, come now, Sam, you know it wouldn't. Parslet is only a working +clerk at Cockermuth's." + +"I should like to know what has put the thought in your head?" +contended Sam. "You had better put it out again. I've never told you +I was falling in love with her; or told herself, either. Mrs. Parslet +would be about me, I expect, if I did. She looks after her as one looks +after gold." + +"Well, I found you in their room, having tea with them, and----" + +"It was quite an accident; an exceptional thing," interrupted Sam. + +"Well," repeated Austin, "you need not put your back up, old fellow; a +friendly warning does no harm. Talking of gold, Dene, I've done my best +to get up the twenty pounds you wanted to borrow of me, and I can't do +it. I'd let you have it with all my heart if I could; but I find I am +harder up than I thought for." + +Which was all true. Chance was as good-natured a young man as ever +lived, but at this early stage of his life he made more debts than he +could pay. + +"Badger has just been here, whining and covertly threatening," said Sam. +"I am to pay up in a week, or he'll make me pay--and tell my uncle, he +says, to begin with." + +"Hypocritical old skinflint!" ejaculated Chance, himself sometimes in +the hands of Mr. Badger--a worthy gentleman who did a little benevolent +usury in a small and quiet way, and took his delight in accommodating +safe young men. A story was whispered that young M., desperately +hard-up, borrowed two pounds from him one Saturday night, undertaking +to repay it, with two pounds added on for interest, that day month; and +when the day came and M. had not got the money, or was at all likely to +get it, he carried off a lot of his mother's plate under his coat to +the pawnbroker's. + +"And there's more besides Badger's that is pressing," went on Dene. "I +must get money from somewhere, or it will play the very deuce with me. +I wonder whether Charley Hill could lend me any?" + +"Don't much think so. You might ask him. Money seems scarce with Hill +always. Has a good many ways for it, I fancy." + +"Talking of money, Chance, a lot has been found at Cockermuth's to-day. +A boxful of guineas that has been lost for years." + +Austin Chance stared. "You don't mean that box of guineas that +mysteriously disappeared in Philip's time?" + +"Well, they say so. It is a small, round box of carved ebony, and it is +stuffed to the brim with old guineas. Sixty of them, I hear." + +"I can't believe it's true; that _that's_ found." + +"Not believe it's true, Chance! Why, I saw it. Saw the box found, +and touched the guineas with my fingers. It has been hidden in an old +bureau all the time," added Sam, and he related the particulars of the +discovery. + +"What an extraordinary thing!" exclaimed young Chance: "the queerest +start I ever heard of." And he fell to musing. + +But the "queer start," as Mr. Austin Chance was pleased to designate +the resuscitation of the box, did not prove to be a lucky one. + + +II. + +The sun shone brightly on Foregate Street, but did not yet touch the +front-windows on Lawyer Cockermuth's side of it. Miss Betty Cockermuth +sat near one of them in the parlour, spectacles on nose, and hard at +work unpicking the braid off some very old woollen curtains, green once, +but now faded to a sort of dingy brown. It was Wednesday morning, the +day following the wonderful event of finding the box, lost so long, full +of its golden guineas. In truth nobody thought of it as anything less +than marvellous. + +The house-cleaning, in preparation for Easter and Easter's visitors, was +in full flow to-day, and would be for more than a week to come; the two +maids were hard at it above. Ward, who did not disdain to labour with +his own hands, was at the house, busy at some mysterious business in the +brewhouse, coat off, shirt-sleeves stripped up to elbow, plunging at +that moment something or other into the boiling water of the furnace. + +"How I could have let them remain up so long in this state, I can't +think," said Miss Betty to herself, arresting her employment, scissors +in hand, to regard the dreary curtains. She had drawn the table towards +her from the middle of the room, and the heavy work was upon it. Susan +came in to impart some domestic news. + +"Ward says there's a rare talk in the town about the finding of that +box, missis," cried she, when she had concluded it. "My! how bad them +curtains look, now they're down!" + +Servants were on more familiar terms with their mistresses in those days +without meaning, or showing, any disrespect; identifying themselves, as +it were, with the family and its interests. Susan, a plump, red-cheeked +young woman turned thirty, had been housemaid in her present place for +seven years. She had promised a baker's head man to marry him, but never +could be got to fix the day. In winter she'd say to him, "Wait till +summer;" and when summer came, she'd say, "Wait till winter." Miss Betty +commended her prudence. + +"Yes," said she now, in answer to the girl, "I've been wondering how we +could have kept them up so long; they are not fit for much, I'm afraid, +save the ragbag. Chintz will make the room look much nicer." + +As Susan left the parlour, Captain Cockermuth entered it, a farmer with +him who had come in from Hallow to the Wednesday's market. The captain's +delighted excitement at the finding of the box had not at all subsided; +he had dreamt of it, he talked of it, he pinned every acquaintance he +could pick up this morning and brought him in to see the box of gold. +Independently of its being a very great satisfaction to have had the old +mysterious loss cleared up, the sixty guineas would be a huge boon to +the captain's pocket. + +"But how was it that none of you ever found it, if it remained all this +while in the pigeon-hole?" cried the wondering farmer, bending over the +little round box of guineas, which the captain placed upon the table +open, the lid by its side. + +"Well, we didn't find it, that's all I know; or poor Philip, either," +said Captain Cockermuth. + +The farmer took his departure. As the captain was showing him to the +front-door, another gentleman came hustling in. It was Thomas Chance the +lawyer, father of the young man who had been the previous night with +Samson Dene. He and Lawyer Cockermuth were engaged together just then in +some complicated, private, and very disagreeable business, each acting +for a separate client, who were the defendants against a great wrong--or +what they thought was one. + +"Come in, Chance, and take a look at my box of guineas, resuscitated +from the grave," cried the captain, joyously. "You can go into the +office to John afterwards." + +"Well, I've hardly time this morning," answered Mr. Chance, turning, +though, into the parlour and shaking hands with Miss Betty. "Austin told +me it was found." + +Now it happened that Lawyer Cockermuth came then into the parlour +himself, to get something from his private desk-table which stood there. +When the box had been discussed, Mr. Chance took a letter from his +pocket and placed it in his brother practitioner's hands. + +"What do you think of that?" he asked. "I got it by post this morning." + +"Think! why, that it is of vital importance," said Mr. Cockermuth when +he had read it. + +"Yes; no doubt of that. But what is to be our next move in answer to +it?" asked the other. + +Seeing they were plunging into business, the captain strolled away to +the front-door, which stood open all day, for the convenience of those +coming to the office, and remained there whistling, his hands in his +pockets, on the look out for somebody else to bring in. He had put the +lid on the box of guineas, and left the box on the table. + +"I should like to take a copy of this letter," said Mr. Cockermuth to +the other lawyer. + +"Well, you can take it," answered Chance. "Mind who does it, +though--Parslet, or somebody else that's confidential. Don't let it go +into the office." + +"You are wanted, sir," said Mr. Dene, from the door. + +"Who is it?" asked his master. + +"Mr. Chamberlain. He says he is in a hurry." + +"I'm coming. Here, Dene!" he called out as the latter was turning away: +and young Dene came back again. + +"Sit down here, now, and take a copy of this letter," cried the lawyer, +rapidly drawing out and opening the little writing-desk table that stood +against the wall at the back of the room. "Here's pen, ink and paper, +all ready: the letter is confidential, you perceive." + +He went out of the room as he spoke, Mr. Chance with him; and Sam Dene +sat down to commence his task, after exchanging a few words with Miss +Betty, with whom he was on good terms. + +"Charles makes as much fuss over this little box as if it were filled +with diamonds from Golconda, instead of guineas," remarked she, pointing +with her scissors to the box, which stood near her on the table, to +direct the young man's attention to it. "I don't know how many folks he +has not brought in already to have a look at it." + +"Well, it was a capital find, Miss Betty; one to be proud of," answered +Sam, settling to his work. + +For some little time nothing was heard but the scratching of Mr. Dene's +pen and the clicking of Miss Betty's scissors. Her task was nearing +completion. A few minutes more, and the last click was given, the +last bit of the braid was off. "And I'm glad of it," cried she aloud, +flinging the end of the curtain on the top of the rest. + +"This braid will do again for something or other," considered Miss +Betty, as she began to wind it upon an old book. "It was put on fresh +only three or four years ago. Well brushed, it will look almost like +new." + +Again Susan opened the door. "Miss Betty, here's the man come with the +chintz: five or six rolls of it for you to choose from," cried she. +"Shall he come in here?" + +Miss Betty was about to say Yes, but stopped and said No, instead. The +commotion of holding up the chintzes to the light, to judge of their +different merits, might disturb Mr. Dene; and she knew better than to +interrupt business. + +"Let him take them to the room where they are to hang, Susan; we can +judge best there." + +Tossing the braid to Susan, who stood waiting at the door, Miss Betty +hastily took up her curtains, and Susan held the door open for her +mistress to pass through. + +Choosing chintz for window-curtains takes some time; as everybody knows +whose fancy is erratic. And how long Miss Betty and Susan and the young +man from the chintz-mart had been doubting and deciding and doubting +again, did not quite appear, when Captain Cockermuth's voice was heard +ascending from below. + +"Betty! Are you upstairs, Betty?" + +"Yes, I'm here," she called back, crossing to the door to speak. "Do you +want me, Charles?" + +"Where have you put the box?" + +"What box?" + +"The box of guineas." + +"It is on the table." + +"It is not on the table. I can't see it anywhere." + +"It was on the table when I left the parlour. I did not touch it. Ask +Mr. Dene where it is: I left him there." + +"Mr. Dene's not here. I wish you'd come down." + +"Very well; I'll come in a minute or two," concluded Miss Betty, going +back to the chintzes. + +"Why, I saw that box on the table as I shut the door after you had come +out, ma'am," observed Susan, who had listened to the colloquy. + +"So did I," said Miss Betty; "it was the very last thing my eyes fell +on. If young Mr. Dene finished what he was about and left the parlour, +I dare say he put the box up somewhere for safety. I think, Susan, we +must fix upon this light pea-green with the rosebuds running up it. It +matches the paper: and the light coming through it takes quite a nice +shade." + +A little more indecision yet; and yet a little more, as to whether +the curtains should be lined, or not, and then Miss Cockermuth went +downstairs. The captain was pacing the passage to and fro impatiently. + +"Now then, Betty, where's my box?" + +"But how am I to know where the box is, Charles, if it's not on the +table?" she remonstrated, turning into the parlour, where two friends +of the captain's waited to be regaled with the sight of the recovered +treasure. "I had to go upstairs with the young man who brought the +chintzes; and I left the box here"--indicating the exact spot on the +table. "It was where you left it yourself. I did not touch it at all." + +She shook hands with the visitors. Captain Cockermuth looked gloomy--as +if he were at sea and had lost his reckoning. + +"If you had to leave the room, why didn't you put the box up?" asked he. +"A boxful of guineas shouldn't be left alone in an empty room." + +"But Mr. Dene was in the room; he sat at the desk there, copying a +letter for John. As to why didn't I put the box up, it was not my place +to do so that I know of. You were about yourself, Charles--only at the +front-door, I suppose." + +Captain Cockermuth was aware that he had not been entirely at the +front-door. Two or three times he had crossed over to hold a chat with +acquaintances on the other side the way; had strolled with one of +them nearly up to Salt Lane and back. Upon catching hold of these two +gentlemen, now brought in, he had found the parlour empty of occupants +and the box not to be seen. + +"Well, this is a nice thing--that a man can't put his hand upon his own +property when he wants to, or hear where it is!" grumbled he. "And what +business on earth had Dene to meddle with the box?" + +"To put it in safety--if he did meddle with it, and a sensible thing to +do," retorted Miss Betty, who did not like to be scolded unjustly. "Just +like you, Charles, making a fuss over nothing! Why don't you go and ask +young Dene where it is?" + +"Young Dene is not in. And John's not in. Nobody is in but Parslet; and +he does not know anything about it. I must say, Betty, you manage the +house nicely!" concluded the captain ironically, giving way to his +temper. + +This was, perhaps the reader may think, commotion enough "over nothing," +as Miss Betty put it. But it was not much as compared with the commotion +which set in later. When Mr. Cockermuth came in, he denied all knowledge +of it, and Sam Dene was impatiently waited for. + +It was past two o'clock when he returned, for he had been home to +dinner. The good-looking young fellow turned in at the front-door with a +fleet step, and encountered Captain Cockermuth, who attacked him hotly, +demanding what he had done with the box. + +"Ah," said Sam, lightly and coolly, "Parslet said you were looking for +it." Mr. Parslet had in fact mentioned it at home over his dinner. + +"Well, where is it?" said the captain. "Where did you put it?" + +"I?" cried young Dene. "Not anywhere. Should I be likely to touch the +box, sir? I saw the box on that table while I was copying a letter for +Mr. Cockermuth; that's all I know of it." + +The captain turned red, and pale, and red again. "Do you mean to tell me +to my face, Mr. Dene, that the box is _gone_?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Sam in the easiest of all easy tones. "It +seems to be gone." + +The box was gone. Gone once more with all its golden guineas. It could +not be found anywhere; in the house or out of the house, upstairs or +down. The captain searched frantically, the others helped him, but no +trace of it could be found. + +At first it was impossible to believe it. That this self-same box should +mysteriously have vanished a second time, seemed to be too marvellous +for fact. But it was true. + +Nobody would admit a share in the responsibility. The captain left +the box safe amidst (as he put it) a roomful of people: Miss Betty +considered that she left it equally safe, with Mr. Dene seated at the +writing-table, and the captain dodging (as _she_ put it) in and out. Mr. +Cockermuth had not entered the parlour since he left it, when called to +Mr. Chamberlain, with whom he had gone out. Sam Dene reiterated that he +had not meddled with the box; no, nor thought about it. + +Sam's account, briefly given, was this. After finishing copying the +letter, he closed the little table-desk and pushed it back to its place +against the wall, and had carried the letter and the copy into the +office. Finding Mr. Cockermuth was not there, he locked them up in his +own desk, having to go to the Guildhall upon some business. The business +there took up some time, in fact until past one o'clock, and he then +went home to dinner. + +"And did you consider it right, Sam Dene, to leave a valuable box like +that on the table, unguarded?" demanded Captain Cockermuth, as they all +stood together in the parlour, after questioning Sam; and the captain +had been looking so fierce and speaking so sharply that it might be +thought he was taking Sam for the thief, off-hand. + +"To tell the truth, captain, I never thought of the box," answered Sam. +"I might not have noticed that the box was in the room at all but for +Miss Betty's drawing my attention to it. After that, I grew so much +interested in the letter I was copying (for I know all about the cause, +as Mr. Cockermuth is aware, and it was curious news) that I forgot +everything else." + +Lawyer Cockermuth nodded to confirm this. The captain went on. + +"Betty drew your attention to it, did she? Why did she draw it? In what +way?" + +"Well, she remarked that you made as much fuss over that box as if it +were filled with diamonds," replied the young man, glad to pay out the +captain for his angry and dictatorial tone. But the captain was in truth +beginning to entertain a very ominous suspicion. + +"Do you wish to deny, Samson Dene, that my sister Betty left that box on +the table when she quitted the room?" + +"Why, who does?" cried Sam. "When Miss Betty says she left the box on +the table, of course she did leave it. She must know. Susan, it seems, +also saw that it was left there." + +"And you could see that box of guineas standing stark staring on the +table, and come out of the room and leave it to its fate!" foamed the +captain. "Instead of giving me a call to say nobody was on guard here!" + +"I didn't see it," returned Sam. "There's no doubt it was there, but I +did not see it. I never looked towards the table as I came out, that I +know of. The table, as I dare say you remember, was not in its usual +place; it was up there by the window. The box had gone clean out of my +thoughts." + +"Well, Mr. Dene, my impression is that _you have got the box_," cried +the angry captain. + +"Oh, is it!" returned Sam, with supreme good humour, and just the least +suspicion of a laugh. "A box like that would be uncommonly useful to +me." + +"I expect, young man, the guineas would!" + +"Right you are, captain." + +But Captain Cockermuth regarded this mocking pleasantry as particularly +ill-timed. _He believed the young man was putting it on to divert +suspicion from himself._ + +"Who did take the box?" questioned he. "Tell me that." + +"I wish I could, sir." + +"How could the box vanish off the table unless it was taken, I ask you?" + +"That's a puzzling question," coolly rejoined Sam. "It was too heavy for +the rats, I expect." + +"Oh dear, but we have no rats in the house," cried Miss Betty. "I wish +we had, I'm sure--and could find the box in their holes." She was +feeling tolerably uncomfortable. Placid and easy in a general way, +serious worry always upset her considerably. + +Captain Cockermuth's suspicions were becoming certainties. The previous +night, when his brother had been telling him various items of news of +the old town, as they sat confidentially over the fire after Miss Betty +had gone up to bed, Mr. Cockermuth chanced to mention the fact that +young Dene had been making a few debts. Not speaking in any ill-natured +spirit, quite the contrary, for he liked the young man amazingly. Only +a few, he continued; thoughtless young men would do so; and he had given +him a lecture. And then he laughingly added the information that Mr. +Jacobson had imparted to him twelve months ago, in their mutual +friendship--of the debts Sam had made in London. + +No sensible person can be surprised that Charles Cockermuth recalled +this now. It rankled in his mind. Had Sam Dene taken the box of guineas +to satisfy these debts contracted during the past year at Worcester? It +looked like it. And the longer the captain dwelt on it, the more and +more likely it grew to look. + +All the afternoon the search was kept up by the captain. Not an +individual article in the parlour but was turned inside out; he wanted +to have the carpet up. His brother and Sam Dene had returned to their +work in the office as usual. The captain was getting to feel like a +raging bear; three times Miss Betty had to stop him in a dreadful fit of +swearing; and when dinner-time came he could not eat. It was a beautiful +slice of Severn salmon, which had its price, I can tell you, in +Worcester then, and minced veal, and a jam tart, all of which dishes +Charles Cockermuth especially favoured. But the loss of the sixty +guineas did away with his appetite. Mr. Cockermuth, who took the loss +very coolly, laughed at him. + +The laughing did not mend the captain's temper: neither did the hearing +that Sam Dene had departed for home as usual at five o'clock. Had Sam +been innocent, he would at least have come to the parlour and inquired +whether the box was found, instead of sneaking off home to tea. + +Fretting and fuming, raging and stamping, disturbing the parlour's peace +and his own, strode Charles Cockermuth. His good-humoured brother John +bore it for an hour or two, and then told him he might as well go +outside and stamp on the pavement for a bit. + +"I will," said Charles. Catching up his hat, saying nothing to anybody, +he strode off to see the sergeant of police--Dutton--and laid the case +concisely before him: The box of guineas was on the table where his +sister sat at work; her work being at one end, the box at the other. Sam +Dene was also in the room, copying a letter at the writing-table. Miss +Betty was called upstairs; she went, leaving the box on the table. It +was the last thing she saw as she left the room; the servant, who had +come to call her, also saw it standing there. Presently young Dene also +left the room and the house; and from that moment the box was never +seen. + +"What do you make of that, Mr. Dutton?" summed up Captain Cockermuth. + +"Am I to understand that no other person entered the room after Mr. Dene +quitted it?" inquired the sergeant. + +"Not a soul. I can testify to that myself." + +"Then it looks as though Mr. Dene must have taken the box." + +"Just so," assented the complainant, triumphantly. "And I shall give him +into custody for stealing it." + +Mr. Dutton considered. His judgment was cool; the captain's hot. He +thought there might be ins and outs in this affair that had not yet +come to the surface. Besides that, he knew young Dene, and did not much +fancy him the sort of individual likely to do a thing of this kind. + +"Captain Cockermuth," said he, "I think it might be best for me to +come up to the house and see a bit into the matter personally, before +proceeding to extreme measures. We experienced officers have a way of +turning up scraps of evidence that other people would never look at. +Perhaps, after all, the box is only mislaid." + +"But I tell you it's _lost_," said the captain. "Clean gone. Can't be +found high or low." + +"Well, if that same black box is lost again, I can only say it is the +oddest case I ever heard of. One would think the box had a demon inside +it." + +"No, sergeant, you are wrong there. The demon's inside him that took it. +Listen while I whisper something in your ear--that young Dene is over +head and ears in debt: he has debts here, debts there, debts everywhere. +For some little time now, as I chance to know, he has been at his very +wits' end to think where or how he could pick up some money to satisfy +the most pressing; fit to die of fear, lest they should travel to the +knowledge of his uncle at Elm Farm." + +"_Is_ it so?" exclaimed Mr. Dutton, severely. And his face changed, and +his opinion also. "Are you sure of this, sir?" + +"Well, my informant was my brother; so you may judge whether it is +likely to be correct or not," said the captain. "But, if you think it +best to make some inquiries at the house, come with me now and do so." + +They walked to Foregate together. The sergeant looked a little at the +features of the parlour, where the loss had taken place, and heard what +Miss Betty had to say, and questioned Susan. This did not help the +suspicion thrown on Sam Dene, saving in one point--their joint testimony +that he and the box were left alone in the room together. + +Mr. Cockermuth had gone out, so the sergeant did not see him: but, as he +was not within doors when the loss occurred, he could not have aided the +investigation in any way. + +"Well, Dutton, what do you think now?" asked Captain Cockermuth, +strolling down the street with the sergeant when he departed. + +"I confess my visit has not helped me much," said Dutton, a +slow-speaking man, given to be cautious. "If nobody entered the room +between the time when Miss Cockermuth left it and you entered it, why +then, sir, there's only young Dene to fall back upon." + +"I tell you nobody did enter it," cried the choleric captain; "or +_could_, without my seeing them. I stood at the front-door. Ward was +busy at the house that morning, dodging perpetually across the top of +the passage, between the kitchen and brewhouse: he, too, is sure no +stranger could have come in without being seen by him." + +"Did you see young Dene leave the room, sir?" + +"I did. Hearing somebody come out of the parlour, I looked round and saw +it was young Dene with some papers in his hand. He went into the office +for a minute or two, and then passed me, remarking, with all the +impudence in life, that he was going to the town hall. He must have had +my box in his pocket then." + +"A pity but you had gone into the parlour at once, captain," remarked +the sergeant. "If only to put the box in safety--provided it was there." + +"But I thought it was safe. I thought my sister was there. I did go in +almost directly." + +"And you never stirred from the door--from first to last?" + +"I don't say that. When I first stood there I strolled about a little, +talking with one person and another. _But I did not stir from the door +after I saw Sam Dene leave the parlour._ And I do not think five minutes +elapsed before I went in. Not more than five, I am quite certain. What +are you thinking about, Dutton?--you don't seem to take me." + +"I take you well enough, sir, and all you say. But what is puzzling me +in the matter is this; strikes me as strange, in fact: that Mr. Dene +should do the thing (allowing that he has done it) in so open and +barefaced a manner, laying himself open to immediate suspicion. Left +alone in the room with the box by Miss Betty, he must know that if, +when he left it, the box vanished with him, only one inference would be +drawn. Most thieves exercise some caution." + +"Not when they are as hard up as Dene is. Impudence with them is the +order of the day, and often carries luck with it. Nothing risk, nothing +win, they cry, and they _do_ risk--and win. Dene has got my box, +sergeant." + +"Well, sir, it looks dark against him; almost _too_ dark; and if you +decide to give him into custody, of course we have only to---- +Good-evening, Badger!" + +They had strolled as far as the Cross, and were standing on the wide +pavement in front of St. Nicholas' Church, about to part, when that +respectable gentleman, Jonas Badger, passed by. A thought struck the +captain. He knew the man was a money-lender in a private way. + +"Here, Badger, stop a minute," he hastily cried. "I want to ask you a +question about young Dene--my brother's clerk, you know. Does he owe you +money?--Much?" + +Mr. Badger, wary by nature and by habit, glanced first at the questioner +and then at the police-sergeant, and did not answer. Whereupon Captain +Cockermuth, as an excuse for his curiosity, plunged into the history of +what had occurred: the finding of the box of guineas yesterday and the +losing it again to-day, and the doubt of Sam. + +Mr. Badger listened with interest; for the news of that marvellous find +had not yet reached his ears. He had been shut up in his office all the +morning, very busy over his account-books; and in the afternoon had +walked over to Kempsey, where he had a client or two, getting back only +in time for tea. + +"That long-lost box of guineas come to light at last!" he exclaimed. +"What an extraordinary thing! And Mr. Dene is suspected of---- Why, good +gracious!" he broke off in fresh astonishment, "I have just seen him +with a guinea in his pocket!" + +"Seen a guinea in Sam Dene's pocket!" cried Captain Cockermuth, turning +yellow as the gas-flame under which they were standing. + +"Why yes, I have. It was----" + +But there Mr. Badger came to a full stop. It had suddenly struck him +that he might be doing harm to Sam Dene; and the rule of his life was +not to harm any one, or to make an enemy, if his own interest allowed +him to avoid it. + +"I won't say any more, Captain Cockermuth. It is no business of mine." + +But here Mr. Sergeant Dutton came to the fore. "You must, Badger. You +must say all you know that bears upon the affair; the law demands it of +you. What about the guinea?" + +"Well, if you force me to do so--putting it in that way," returned the +man, driven into a corner. + +Mr. Badger had just been down to Edgar Street to pay another visit to +Sam. Not to torment him; he did not do that more than he could help; but +simply to say he would accept smaller instalments for the liquidation of +his debt--which of course meant giving to Sam a longer time to pay the +whole in. This evening he was admitted to Sam's sitting-room. During +their short conversation, Sam, searching impatiently for a pencil in his +waistcoat-pocket, drew out with it a few coins in silver money, and one +coin in gold. Mr. Badger's hungry eyes saw that it was an old guinea. +These particulars he now imparted. + +"What did he _say_ about the guinea?" cried Captain Cockermuth, his own +eyes glaring. + +"Not a word," said Badger; "neither did I. He slipped it back into his +pocket." + +"I hope you think there's some proof to go upon _now_," were Charles +Cockermuth's last words to the police-officer as he wished him +good-night. + +On the following morning, Sam Dene was apprehended, and taken before the +magistrates. Beyond being formally charged, very little was done; Miss +Betty was in bed with a sick headache, brought on by the worry, and +could not appear to give evidence; so he was remanded on bail until +Saturday. + + +III. + +I'm sure you might have thought all his rick-yards were on fire by the +way old Jacobson came bursting in. It was Saturday morning, and we were +at breakfast at Dyke Manor. He had run every step of the way from Elm +Farm, two miles nearly, not having patience to wait for his gig, and +came in all excitement, the _Worcester Herald_ in his hand. The Squire +started from his chair; Mrs. Todhetley, then in the act of pouring out +a cup of coffee, let it flow over on to the tablecloth. + +"What on earth's amiss, Jacobson?" cried the Squire. + +"Ay, what's amiss," stuttered Jacobson in answer; "_this_ is amiss," +holding out the newspaper. "I'll prosecute the editor as sure as I'm a +living man. It is a conspiracy got up to sell it; a concocted lie. It +can't be anything else, you know, Todhetley. And I want you to go off +with me to Worcester. The gig's following me." + +When we had somewhat collected our senses, and could look at the +newspaper, there was the account as large as life. Samson Reginald Dene +had been had up before the magistrates on Thursday morning on a charge +of stealing a small box of carved ebony, containing sixty guineas in +gold, from the dwelling house of Lawyer Cockermuth; and he was to be +brought up again that day, Saturday, for examination. + +"A pretty thing this is to see, when a man opens his weekly newspaper +at his breakfast-table!" gasped Jacobson, flicking the report with his +angry finger. "I'll have the law of them--accusing _my_ nephew of such +a thing as that! You'll go with me, Squire!" + +"Go! of course I'll go!" returned the Squire, in his hot partisanship. +"We were going to Worcester, any way; I've things to do there. Poor Sam! +Hanging would be too good for the printers of that newspaper, Jacobson." + +Mr. Jacobson's gig was heard driving up to the gate at railroad speed; +and soon our own carriage was ready. Old Jacobson sat with the Squire, I +behind with Giles; the other groom, Blossom, drove Tod in the gig; and +away we went in the blustering March wind. Many people, farmers and +others, were on the road, riding or driving to Worcester market. + +Well, we found it was true. And not the mistake of the newspapers: they +had but reported what passed before the magistrates at the town hall. + +The first person we saw was Miss Cockermuth. She was in a fine way, not +knowing what to think or believe, and sat in the parlour in that soft +green gown of twilled silk (that might have been a relic of the silk +made in the time of the Queen of Sheba), her cap and front all awry. +Rumour said old Jacobson had been a sweetheart of hers in their young +days; but I'm sure I don't know. Any way they were very friendly with +one another, and she sometimes called him "Frederick." He sat down by +her on the horse-hair sofa, and we took chairs. + +She recounted the circumstances (ramblingly) from beginning to end. Not +that the end had come yet by a long way. And--there it was, she wound +up, when the narrative was over: the box had disappeared, just for all +the world as mysteriously as it disappeared in the days gone by. + +Mr. Jacobson had listened patiently. He was a fine, upright man, with +a healthy colour and bright dark eyes. He wore a blue frock-coat to-day +with metal buttons, and top-boots. As yet he did not see how they had +got up grounds for accusing Sam, and he said so. + +"To be sure," cried the Squire. "How's that, Miss Betty?" + +"Why, it's this way," said Miss Betty--"that nobody was here in the +parlour but Sam when the box vanished. It is my brother Charles who has +done it all; he is so passionate, you know. John has properly quarrelled +with him for it." + +"It is not possible, you know, Miss Betty, that Sam Dene could have done +it," struck in Tod, who was boiling over with rage at the whole thing. +"Some thief must have stolen in at the street-door when Sam had left the +room." + +"Well, no, that could hardly have been, seeing that Charles never left +the street-door after that," returned Miss Betty, mildly. "It appears to +be a certain fact that not a soul entered the room after the young man +left it. And there lies the puzzle of it." + +Putting it to be as Miss Betty put it--and I may as well say here that +nothing turned up, then or later, to change the opinion--it looked +rather suspicious for Sam Dene. I think the Squire saw it. + +"I suppose you are sure the box was on the table when you left the room, +Miss Betty?" said he. + +"Why, of course I am sure, Squire," she answered. "It was the last thing +my eyes fell on; for, as I went through the door, I glanced back to see +that I had left the table tidy. Susan can bear witness to that. Dutton, +the police-sergeant, thinks some demon of mischief must be in that +box--meaning the deuce, you know. Upon my word it looks like it." + +Susan came in with some glasses and ale as Miss Betty spoke, and +confirmed the testimony--which did not need confirmation. As she closed +the parlour-door, she said, after her mistress had passed out, she +noticed the box standing on the table. + +"Is Sam here to-day--in the office?" asked Mr. Jacobson. + +"Oh, my goodness, no," cried Miss Betty in a fluster. "Why, Frederick, +he has not been here since Thursday, when they had him up at the +Guildhall. He couldn't well come while the charge is hanging over him." + +"Then I think we had better go out to find Sam, and hear what he has to +say," observed Mr. Jacobson, drinking up his glass of ale. + +"Yes, do," said Miss Betty. "Tell poor Sam I'm as sorry as I can +be--pestered almost out of my mind over it. And as to their having found +one of the guineas in his pocket, please just mention to him that I say +it might have slipped in accidentally." + +"One of the guineas found in Sam's pocket!" exclaimed Mr. Jacobson, +taken aback. + +"Well, I hear so," responded Miss Betty. "The police searched him, you +see." + +As the Squire and Mr. Jacobson went out, Mr. Cockermuth was coming in. +They all turned into the office together, while we made a rush to Sam +Dene's lodgings in Edgar Street: as much of a rush, at least, as the +Saturday's streets would let us make. Sam was out, the young servant +said when we got there, and while parleying with her Mrs. Parslet opened +her sitting-room door. + +"I do not suppose Mr. Dene will be long," she said. "He has to appear +at the town hall this morning, and I think it likely he will come home +first. Will you walk in and wait?" + +She handed us into her parlour, where she had been busy, marking sheets +and pillow-cases and towels with "prepared" ink; the table was covered +with them. Tod began telling her that Mr. Jacobson was at Worcester, and +went on to say what a shame it was that Sam Dene should be accused of +this thing. + +"We consider it so," said Mrs. Parslet; who was a capable, +pleasant-speaking woman, tall and slender. "My husband says it has +upset Mr. Cockermuth more than anything that has occurred for years +past. He tells his brother that he should have had it investigated +privately, not have given Mr. Dene into custody." + +"Then why did he let him do it, Mrs. Parslet?" + +She looked at Tod, as if surprised at the question. "Mr. Cockermuth +knew nothing of it; you may be sure of that. Captain Cockermuth had +the young man at the Guildhall and was preferring the charge, before +Mr. Cockermuth heard a word of what was agate. Certainly that is a +most mysterious box! It seems fated to give trouble." + +At this moment the door opened, and a young lady came into the +parlour. It was Maria. What a nice face she had!--what sweet thoughtful +eyes!--what gentle manners! Sam's friends in the town were accusing him +of being in love with her--and small blame to him. + +But Sam did not appear to be coming home, and time was getting on. Tod +decided not to wait longer, and said good-morning. + +Flying back along High Street, we caught sight of the tray of Dublin +buns, just put fresh on the counter in Rousse's shop, and made as good a +feast as time allowed. Some people called them Doubling buns (from their +shape, I take it), and I don't know to this day which was right. + +Away with fleet foot again, past the bustle round the town hall, and +market house, till we came to the next confectioner's and saw the +apple-tarts. Perhaps somebody remembers yet how delicious those +apple-tarts were. Bounding in, we began upon them. + +While the feast was in progress, Sam Dene went by, walking very fast. +We dashed out to catch him. Good Mrs. Mountford chanced to be in the +shop and knew us, or they might have thought we were decamping without +payment. + +Sam Dene, in answer to Tod's hasty questions, went into a passion; +swearing at the world in general, and Captain Cockermuth in particular, +as freely as though the justices, then taking their places in the +Guildhall, were not as good as within earshot. + +"It is a fearful shame, Todhetley!--to bring such a charge against me, +and to lug me up to the criminal bar like a felon. Worse than all, to +let it go forth to the town and county in to-day's glaring newspapers +that I, Sam Dene, am a common thief!" + +"Of course it is a fearful shame, Sam--it's infamous, and all your +friends know it is," cried Tod, with eager sympathy. "My father wishes +he could hang the printers. I say, what do you think has become of the +box?" + +"Become of it!--why, that blundering Charles Cockermuth has got it. He +was off his head with excitement at its being found. He must have come +into the room and put it somewhere and forgotten it: or else he put it +into his pocket and got robbed of it in the street. That's what I think. +Quite off his head, I give you my word." + +"And what fable is it the wretches have got up about finding one of the +guineas in your pocket, Sam?" + +"Oh, bother that! It was my own guinea. I swear it--there! I can't stay +now," went on Sam, striding off down High Street. "I am due at the town +hall this minute; only out on bail. You'll come with me." + +"You go in and pay for the tarts, Johnny," called back Tod, as he put +his arm within Sam Dene's. I looked in, pitched a shilling on the +counter, said I didn't know how many we had eaten; perhaps ten; and +that I couldn't wait for change. + +Crushing my way amidst the market women and their baskets in the +Guildhall yard, I came upon Austin Chance. His father held some post +connected with the law, as administered there, and Austin said he would +get me in. + +"Can it be true that the police found one of the guineas about him?" I +asked. + +Chance pulled a long face. "It's true they found one when they searched +him----" + +"What right had they to search him?" + +"Well, I don't know," said Austin, laughing a little; "they did it. To +see perhaps whether all the guineas were about him. And I am afraid, +Johnny Ludlow, that the finding of that guinea will make it rather hard +for Sam. It is said that Maria Parslet can prove the guinea was Sam's +own, and that my father has had a summons served on her to appear here +to-day. He has taken Sam's case in hand; but he is closer than wax, and +tells me nothing." + +"You don't think he can have stolen the box, Chance?" + +"I don't. I shouldn't think him capable of anything so mean; let alone +the danger of it. Not but that there are circumstances in the case that +tell uncommonly strong against him. And where the deuce the box can have +got to, otherwise, is more than mortal man can guess at. Come along." + + +IV. + +Not for a long while had Worcester been stirred as it was over this +affair of Samson Dene's. What with the curious discovery of the box of +guineas after its mysterious disappearance of years, and then its second +no less mysterious loss, with the suspicion that Sam Dene stole it, the +Faithful City was so excited as hardly to know whether it stood on its +head or its heels. + +When the police searched the prisoner on Thursday morning, after taking +him into custody, and found the guinea upon him (having been told that +he had one about him), his guilt was thought to be as good as proved. +Sam said the guinea was his own, an heirloom, and stood to this so +indignantly resolute that the police let him have it back. But now, what +did Sam go and do? When released upon bail by the magistrates--to come +up again on the Saturday--he went straight off to a silversmith's, had +a hole stamped in the guinea and hung it to his watch-chain across his +waistcoat, that the public might feast their eyes upon it. It was in +this spirit of defiance--or, as the town called it, bravado--that he met +the charge. His lodgings had been searched for the rest of the guineas, +but they were not found. + +The hour for the Saturday's examination--twelve o'clock--was striking, +as I struggled my way with Austin Chance through the crush round the +Guildhall. But that Austin's father was a man of consequence with the +door-keepers, we should not have got in at all. + +The accused, arraigned by his full name, Samson Reginald Dene, stood in +the place allotted to prisoners, cold defiance on his handsome face. As +near to him as might be permitted, stood Tod, just as defiant as he. +Captain Charles Cockermuth, a third in defiance, stood opposite to +prosecute; while Lawyer Cockermuth, who came in with Sam's uncle, Mr. +Jacobson, openly wished his brother at Hanover. Squire Todhetley, being +a county magistrate, sat on the bench with the City magnates, but not +to interfere. + +The proceedings began. Captain Cockermuth related how the little box, +his property, containing sixty golden guineas, was left on the table in +a sitting-room in his brother's house, the accused being the only person +in the room at the time, and that the box disappeared. He, himself +(standing at the front-door), saw the accused quit the room; he went +into it almost immediately, but the box was gone. He swore that no +person entered the room after the prisoner left it. + +Miss Betty Cockermuth, flustered and red, appeared next. She testified +that she was in the room nearly all the morning, the little box being +upon the table; when she left the room, Mr. Dene remained in it alone, +copying a letter for her brother; the box was still on the table. Susan +Edwards, housemaid at Lawyer Cockermuth's, spoke to the same fact. It +was she who had fetched her mistress out, and she saw the box standing +upon the table. + +The accused was asked by one of the magistrates what he had to say +to this. He answered, speaking freely, that he had nothing to say in +contradiction, except that he did not know what became of the box. + +"Did you see the box on the table?" asked the lawyer on the opposite +side, Mr. Standup. + +"I saw it there when I first went into the room. Miss Betty made a +remark about the box, which drew my attention to it. I was sitting at +the far end of the room, at Mr. Cockermuth's little desk-table. I did +not notice the box afterwards." + +"Did you not see it there after Miss Cockermuth left the room?" + +"No, I did not; not that I remember," answered Sam. "Truth to say, I +never thought about it. My attention was confined to the letter I was +copying, to the exclusion of everything else." + +"Did any one come into the room after Miss Cockermuth left it?" + +"No one came into it. Somebody opened the door and looked in." + +This was fresh news. The town hall pricked up its ears. + +"I do not know who it was," added Sam. "My head was bent over my +writing, when the door opened quickly, and as quickly shut again. I +supposed somebody had looked in to see if Mr. or Miss Cockermuth was +there, and had retreated on finding they were not." + +"Could that person, whomsoever it might be, have advanced to the table +and taken the box?" asked the chief of the magistrates. + +"No, sir. For certain, no!"--and Sam's tone here, he best knew why, was +aggravatingly defiant. "The person might have put his head in--and no +doubt did--but he did not set a foot inside the room." + +Captain Cockermuth was asked about this: whether he observed any one go +to the parlour and look in. He protested till he was nearly blue with +rage (for he regarded it as Sam's invention), that such a thing never +took place, that no one whatever went near the parlour-door. + +Next came up the question of the guinea, which was hanging from his +watch-guard, shining and bold as if it had been brass. Sam had been +questioned about this by the justices on Thursday, and his statement in +answer to them was just as bold as the coin. + +The guinea had been given him by his late father's uncle, old Thomas +Dene, who had jokingly enjoined him never to change it, always to keep +it by him, and then he would never be without money. Sam had kept +it; kept it from that time to this. He kept it in the pocket of an +old-fashioned leather case, which contained some letters from his +father, and two or three other things he valued. No, he was not in the +habit of getting the guinea out to look at, he had retorted to a little +badgering; had not looked at it (or at the case either, which lay in the +bottom of his trunk) for months and months--yes, it might be years, for +all he recollected. But on the Tuesday evening, when talking with Miss +Parslet about guineas, he fetched it to show to her; and slipped it into +his pocket afterwards, where, the police found it on the Thursday. This +was the substance of his first answer, and he repeated it now. + +"Do you know who is said to be the father of lies, young man?" asked +Justice Whitewicker in a solemn tone, suspecting that the prisoner was +telling an out-and-out fable. + +"I have heard," answered Sam. "Have never seen him myself. Perhaps you +have, sir." At which a titter went round the court, and it put his +worship's back up. Sam went on to say that he had often thought of +taking his guinea into wear, and had now done it. And he gave the guinea +a flick in the face of us all. + +Evidently little good could come of a hardened criminal like this; and +Justice Whitewicker, who thought nothing on earth so grand as the sound +of his own voice from the bench, gave Sam a piece of his mind. In the +midst of this a stir arose at the appearance of Maria Parslet. Mr. +Chance led her in; her father, sad and shrinking as usual, walked behind +them. Lawyer Cockermuth--and I liked him for it--made a place for his +clerk next to himself. Maria looked modest, gentle and pretty. She wore +black silk, being in slight mourning, and a dainty white bonnet. + +Mr. Dene was asked to take tea with them in the parlour on the Tuesday +evening, as a matter of convenience, Maria's evidence ran, in answer to +questions, and she briefly alluded to the reason why. Whilst waiting +together, he and she, for her father to come in, Mr. Dene told her +of the finding of the ebony box of guineas at Mr. Cockermuth's. She +laughingly remarked that a guinea was an out-of-date coin now, and she +was not sure that she had ever seen one. In reply to that, Mr. Dene said +he had one by him, given him by an old uncle some years before; and he +went upstairs and brought it down to show to her. There could be no +mistake, Maria added to Mr. Whitewicker, who wanted to insinuate a word +of doubt, and her sweet brown eyes were honest and true as she said it; +she had touched the guinea and held it in her hand for some moments. + +"Held it and touched it, did you, Miss Parslet?" retorted Lawyer +Standup. "Pray what appearance had it?" + +"It was a thin, worn coin, sir," replied Maria; "thinner, I think, than +a sovereign, but somewhat larger; it seemed to be worn thin at the +edge." + +"Whose image was on it?--what king's?" + +"George the Third's. I noticed that." + +"Now don't you think, young lady, that the accused took this marvellous +coin from his pocket, instead of from some receptacle above stairs?" +went on Mr. Standup. + +"I am quite sure he did not take it from his pocket when before me," +answered Maria. "He ran upstairs quickly, saying he would fetch the +guinea: he had nothing in his hands then." + +Upon this Lawyer Chance inquired of his learned brother why he need +waste time in useless questions; begging to remind him that it was not +until Wednesday morning the box disappeared, so the prisoner could not +well have had any of its contents about him on Tuesday. + +"Just let my questions alone, will you," retorted Mr. Standup, with a +nod. "I know what I am about. Now, Miss Parslet, please attend to me. +Was the guinea you profess to have seen a perfect coin, or was there a +hole in it?" + +"It was a perfect coin, sir." + +"And what became of it?" + +"I think Mr. Dene put it in his waistcoat-pocket: I did not particularly +notice. Quite close upon that, my father came home, and we sat down to +tea. No, sir, nothing was said to my father about the guinea; if it was, +I did not hear it. But he and Mr. Dene talked of the box of guineas that +had been found." + +"Who was it that called while you were at tea?" + +"Young Mr. Chance called. We had finished tea then, and Mr. Dene took +him upstairs to his own sitting-room." + +"I am not asking you about young Mr. Chance; we shall come to him +presently," was the rough-toned, but not ill-natured retort. "Somebody +else called: who was it?" + +Maria, blushing and paling ever since she stood up to the ordeal, grew +white now. Mr. Badger had called at the door, she answered, and Mr. Dene +went out to speak to him. Worried by Lawyer Standup as to whether he did +not come to ask for money, she said she believed so, but she did not +hear all they said. + +Quiet Mr. Parslet was the next witness. He had to acknowledge that he +did hear it. Mr. Badger appeared to be pressing for some money owing to +him; could not tell the amount, knew nothing about that. When questioned +whether the accused owed him money, Parslet said not a shilling; Mr. +Dene had never sought to borrow of him, and had paid his monthly +accounts regularly. + +Upon that, Mr. Badger was produced; a thin man with a neck as stiff as a +poker; who gave his reluctant testimony in a sweet tone of benevolence. +Mr. Dene had been borrowing money from him for some time; somewhere +about twenty pounds, he thought, was owing now, including interest. He +had repeatedly asked for its repayment, but only got put off with (as he +believed) lame excuses. Had certainly gone to ask for it on the Tuesday +evening; was neither loud nor angry, oh dear, no; but did tell the +accused he thought he could give him some if he would, and did say that +he must have a portion of it within a week, or he should apply to Mr. +Jacobson, of Elm Farm. Did not really mean to apply to Mr. Jacobson, +had no wish to do any one an injury, but felt vexed at the young man's +off-handedness, which looked like indifference. Knew besides that Mr. +Dene had other debts. + +Now I'll leave you to judge how this evidence struck on the ears of old +Jacobson. He leaped to the conclusion that Sam had been going all sorts +of ways, as he supposed he went when in London, and might be owing, the +mischief only knew how much money; and he shook his fist at Sam across +the justice-room. + +Mr. Standup next called young Chance, quite to young Chance's surprise; +perhaps also to his father's. He was questioned upon no end of +things--whether he did not know that the accused was owing a great deal +of money, and whether the accused had shown any guinea to him when +he was in Edgar Street on the Tuesday night. Austin answered that he +believed Mr. Dene owed a little money, not a great deal, so far as he +knew; and that he had not seen the guinea or heard of it. And in saying +all this, Austin's tone was just as resentfully insolent to Mr. Standup +as he dared to make it. + +Well, it is of no use to go on categorically with the day's proceedings. +When they came to an end, the magistrates conferred pretty hotly in a +low tone amongst themselves, some apparently taking up one opinion, +as to Sam's guilt, or innocence, and some the other. At length they +announced their decision, and it was as follows. + +"Although the case undoubtedly presents grave grounds of suspicion +against the accused, Samson Reginald Dene--'Very grave indeed,' +interjected Mr. Whitewicker, solemnly--we do not consider them to be +sufficient to commit him for trial upon; therefore, we give him the +benefit of the doubt, and discharge him. Should any further evidence +transpire, he can be brought up again." + +"It was Maria Parslet's testimony about the guinea that cleared him," +whispered the crowd, as they filed out. + +And I think it must have been. It was just impossible to doubt her +truth, or the earnestness with which she gave it. + +Mr. Jacobson "interviewed" Sam, as the Americans say, and the interview +was not a loving one. Being in the mood, he said anything that came +uppermost. He forbade Sam to appear at Elm Farm ever again, as "long as +oak and ash grew;" and he added that as Sam was bent on going to the +deuce head foremost, he might do it upon his own means, but that he'd +never get any more help from him. + +The way the Squire lashed up Bob and Blister when driving home--for, +liking Sam hitherto, he was just as much put out as old Jacobson--and +the duet they kept together in abuse of his misdeeds, was edifying to +hear. Tod laughed; I did not. The gig was given over this return journey +to the two grooms. + +"I do not believe Sam took the box, sir," I said to old Jacobson, +interrupting a fiery oration. + +He turned round to stare at me. "What do you say, Johnny Ludlow? _You do +not believe he took the box?_" + +"Well, to me it seems quite plain that he did not take it. I've hardly +ever felt more sure of anything." + +"Plain!" struck in the Squire. "How is it plain, Johnny? What grounds do +you go upon?" + +"I judge by his looks and his tones, sir, when denying it. They are to +be trusted." + +They did not know whether to laugh or scoff at me. It was Johnny's way, +said the Squire; always fancying he could read the riddles in a man's +face and voice. But they'd have thrown up their two best market-going +hats with glee to be able to think it true. + + +V. + +Samson Reginald Dene was relieved of the charge, as it was declared "not +proven;" all the same, Samson Reginald Dene was ruined. Worcester said +so. During the following week, which was Passion Week, its citizens +talked more of him than of their prayers. + +Granted that Maria Parslet's testimony had been honestly genuine, a +theory cropped up to counteract it. Lawyer Standup had been bold enough +to start it at the Saturday's examination: a hundred tongues were +repeating it now. Sam Dene, as may be remembered, was present at the +finding of the box on Tuesday; he had come up the passage and touched +the golden guineas in it with the tips of his fingers; those fingers +might have deftly extracted one of the coins. No wonder he could show it +to Maria when he went home to tea! Captain Cockermuth admitted that in +counting the guineas subsequently he had thought he counted sixty; but, +as he knew there were (or ought to be) that number in the box, probably +the assumption misled him, causing him to reckon them as sixty when in +fact there were only fifty-nine. Which was a bit of logic. + +Still, popular opinion was divided. If part of the town judged Sam to be +guilty, part believed him to be innocent. A good deal might be said on +both sides. To a young man who does not know how to pay his debts from +lack of means, and debts that he is afraid of, too, sixty golden guineas +may be a great temptation; and people did not shut their eyes to that. +It transpired also that Mr. Jacobson, his own uncle, his best friend, +had altogether cast Sam off and told him he might now go to the dogs his +own way. + +Sam resented it all bitterly, and defied the world. Far from giving in +or showing any sense of shame, he walked about with an air, his head up, +and that brazen guinea dangling in front of him. He actually had the +face to appear at college on Good Friday (the congregation looking +askance at him), and sat out the cold service of the day: no singing, no +organ, and the little chorister-boys in black surplices instead of white +ones. + +But the crowning act of boldness was to come. Before Easter week had +lapsed into the past, Sam Dene had taken two rooms in a conspicuous part +of the town and set-up in practice. A big brass plate on the outer door +displayed his name: "Mr. Dene, Attorney-at-law." Sam's friends extolled +his courage; Sam's enemies were amazed at his impudence. Captain +Cockermuth prophesied that the ceiling of that office would come +tumbling down on its crafty occupant's head: it was _his_ gold that +was paying for it. + +The Cockermuths, like the town, were divided in opinion. Mr. Cockermuth +could not believe Sam guilty, although the mystery as to where the box +could be puzzled him as few things had ever puzzled him in this life. He +would fain have taken Sam back again, had it been a right thing to do. +What the captain thought need not be enlarged upon. While Miss Betty +felt uncertain; veering now to this belief, now to that, and much +distressed either way. + +There is one friend in this world that hardly ever deserts us--and that +is a mother. Mrs. Dene, a pretty little woman yet, had come flying to +Worcester, ready to fight everybody in it on her son's behalf. Sam of +course made his own tale good to her; whether it was a true one or not +he alone knew, but not an angel from heaven could have stirred her faith +in it. She declared that, to her positive knowledge, the old uncle had +given Sam the guinea. + +It was understood to be Mrs. Dene who advanced the money to Sam to set +up with; it was certainly Mrs. Dene who bought a shutting-up bed (at old +Ward's), and a gridiron, and a tea-pot, and a three-legged table, and a +chair or two, all for the back-room of the little office, that Sam might +go into housekeeping on his own account, and live upon sixpence a-day, +so to say, until business came in. To look at Sam's hopeful face, he +meant to do it, and to live down the scandal. + +Looking at the thing impartially, one might perhaps see that Sam was not +swayed by impudence in setting-up, so much as by obligation. For what +else lay open to him?--no firm would engage him as clerk with that doubt +sticking to his coat-tails. He paid some of his debts, and undertook to +pay the rest before the year was out. A whisper arose that it was Mrs. +Dene who managed this. Sam's adversaries knew better; the funds came out +of the ebony box: that, as Charles Cockermuth demonstrated, was as sure +as heaven. + +But now there occurred one thing that I, Johnny Ludlow, could not +understand, and never shall: why Worcester should have turned its back, +like an angry drake, upon Maria Parslet. The school, where she was +resident teacher, wrote her a cool, polite note, to say she need not +trouble herself to return after the Easter recess. That example was +followed. Pious individuals looked upon her as a possible story-teller, +in danger of going to the bad in Sam's defence, nearly as much as Sam +had gone. + +It was just a craze. Even Charles Cockermuth said there was no sense +in blaming Maria: of course Sam had deceived her (when pretending to +show the guinea as his own), just as he deceived other people. Next +the town called her "bold" for standing up in the face and eyes of the +Guildhall to give her evidence. But how could Maria help that? It was +not her own choice: she'd rather have locked herself up in the cellar. +Lawyer Chance had burst in upon her that Saturday morning (not ten +minutes after we left the house), giving nobody warning, and carried +her off imperatively, never saying "Will you, or Won't you." It was +not his way. + +Placid Miss Betty was indignant when the injustice came to her ears. +What did people mean by it? she wanted to know. She sent for Maria +to spend the next Sunday in Foregate Street, and marched with her +arm-in-arm to church (St. Nicholas'), morning and evening. + +As the days and the weeks passed, commotion gave place to a calm; Sam +and his delinquencies were let alone. One cannot be on the grumble for +ever. Sam's lines were pretty hard; practice held itself aloof from +him; and if he did not live upon the sixpence a-day, he looked at every +halfpenny that he had to spend beyond it. His face grew thin, his blue +eyes wistful, but he smiled hopefully. + + * * * * * + +"You keep up young Dene's acquaintance, I perceive," remarked Lawyer +Chance to his son one evening as they were finishing dinner, for he had +met the two young men together that day. + +"Yes: why shouldn't I?" returned Austin. + +"Think that charge was a mistaken one, I suppose?" + +"Well I do, father. He has affirmed it to me in terms so unmistakable +that I can but believe him. Besides, I don't think Dene, as I have +always said, is the sort of fellow to turn rogue: I don't, indeed." + +"Does he get any practice?" + +"Very little, I'm afraid." + +Mr. Chance was a man with a conscience. On the whole, he felt inclined +to think Sam had not helped himself to the guineas, but he was by no +means sure of it: like Miss Betty Cockermuth, his opinion veered, now +on this side, now on that, like a haunted weathercock. If Sam was not +guilty, why, then, Fate had dealt hardly with the young fellow--and what +would the end be? These thoughts were running through the lawyer's mind +as he talked to his son and sat playing with his bunch of seals, which +hung down by a short, thick gold chain, in the old-fashioned manner. + +"I should like to say a word to him if he'd come to me," he suddenly +cried. "You might go and bring him, Austin." + +"What--this evening?" exclaimed Austin. + +"Ay; why not? One time's as good as another." + +Austin Chance started off promptly for the new office, and found his +friend presiding over his own tea-tray in the little back-room; the loaf +and butter on the table, and a red herring on the gridiron. + +"Hadn't time to get any dinner to-day; too busy," was Sam's apology, +given briefly with a flush of the face. "Mr. Chance wants me? Well, +I'll come. What is it for?" + +"Don't know," replied Austin. And away they went. + +The lawyer was standing at the window, his hands in the pockets of his +pepper-and-salt trousers, tinkling the shillings and sixpences there. +Austin supposed he was not wanted, and shut them in. + +"I have been thinking of your case a good bit lately, Sam Dene," began +Mr. Chance, giving Sam a seat and sitting down himself; "and I should +like to feel, if I can, more at a certainty about it, one way or the +other." + +"Yes, sir," replied Sam. And you must please to note that manners in +those days had not degenerated to what they are in these. Young men, +whether gentle or simple, addressed their elders with respect; young +women also. "Yes, sir," replied Sam. "But what do you mean about wishing +to feel more at a certainty?" + +"When I defended you before the magistrates, I did my best to convince +them that you were not guilty: you had assured me you were not: and they +discharged you. I believe my arguments and my pleadings went some way +with them." + +"I have no doubt of it, sir, and I thanked you at the time with all my +heart," said Sam warmly. "Some of my enemies were bitter enough against +me." + +"But you should not speak in that way--calling people your enemies!" +reproved the lawyer. "People were only at enmity with you on the score +of the offence. Look here, Sam Dene--did you commit it, or did you +not?" + +Sam stared. Mr. Chance had dropped his voice to a solemn key, his head +was pushed forward, gravity sat on his face. + +"No, sir. No." + +The short answer did not satisfy the lawyer. "Did you filch that box +of guineas out of Cockermuth's room; or were you, and are you, as you +assert, wholly innocent?" he resumed. "Tell me the truth as before +Heaven. Whatever it be, I will shield you still." + +Sam rose. "On my sacred word, sir, and before Heaven, I have told +nothing but the truth. I did not take or touch the box of guineas. I +do not know what became of it." + +Mr. Chance regarded Sam in silence. He had known young men, when under +a cloud, prevaricate in a most extraordinary and unblushing manner: to +look at them and listen to them, one might have said they were fit to +be canonized. But he thought truth lay with Sam now. + +"Sit down, sit down, Dene," he said. "I am glad to believe you. Where +the deuce could the box have got to? It could not take flight through +the ceiling up to the clouds, or down to the earth through the floor. +_Whose hands took it?_" + +"The box went in one of two ways," returned Sam. "If the captain did not +fetch it out unconsciously, and lose it in the street, why, somebody +must have entered the parlour after I left it and carried off the box. +Perhaps the individual who looked into the room when I was sitting +there." + +"A pity but you had noticed who that was." + +"Yes, it is. Look here, Mr. Chance; a thought has more than once struck +me--if that person did not come back and take the box, why has he not +come forward openly and honestly to avow it was himself who looked in?" + +The lawyer gave his head a dissenting shake. "It is a ticklish thing to +be mixed up in, he may think, one that he had best keep out of--though +he may be innocent as the day. How are you getting on?" he asked, +passing abruptly from the subject. + +"Oh, middling," replied Sam. "As well, perhaps, as I could expect to get +on at first, with all the prejudice abroad against me." + +"Earning bread-and-cheese?" + +"Not quite--yet." + +"Well, see here, Dene--and this is what I chiefly sent for you to say, +if you could assure me on your conscience you deserved it--I may be able +to put some little business in your hands. Petty matters are brought +to us that we hardly care to waste time upon: I'll send them to you in +future. I dare say you'll be able to rub on by dint of patience. Rome +was not built in a day, you know." + +"Thank you, sir; I thank you very truly," breathed Sam. "Mr. Cockermuth +sent me a small matter the other day. If I can make a bare living of it +at present, that's all I ask. Fame and fortune are not rained down upon +black sheep." + +Which was so true a remark as to need no contradiction. + +May was nearing its close then, and the summer evenings were long and +lovely. As Sam went forth from the interview, he thought he would take a +walk by the river, instead of turning in to his solitary rooms. Since +entering upon them he had been as steady as old Time: the accusation +and its attendant shame seemed to have converted him from a heedless, +youthful man into a wise old sage of age and care. Passing down Broad +Street towards the bridge, he turned to the left and sauntered along +beside the Severn. The water glittered in the light of the setting sun; +barges, some of them bearing men and women and children, passed smoothly +up and down on it; the opposite fields, towards St. John's, were green +as an emerald: all things seemed to wear an aspect of brightness. + +All on a sudden things grew brighter--and Sam's pulses gave a leap. He +had passed the grand old red-stoned wall that enclosed the Bishop's +palace, and was close upon the gates leading up to the Green, when a +young lady turned out of them and came towards him with a light, quick +step. It was Maria Parslet, in a pretty summer muslin, a straw hat +shading her blushing face. For it did blush furiously at sight of Sam. + +"Mr. Dene!" + +"Maria!" + +She began to say, hurriedly, that her mother had sent her with a message +to the dressmaker on the Parade, and she had taken that way, as being +the shortest--as if in apology for having met Sam. + +He turned with her, and they paced slowly along side by side, the colour +on Maria's cheeks coming and going with every word he spoke and every +look he gave her--which seemed altogether senseless and unreasonable. +Sam told her of his conversation with Austin Chance's father, and his +promise to put a few things in his way. + +"Once let me be making two hundred a-year, Maria, and then----" + +"Then what?" questioned Maria innocently. + +"Then I should ask you to come to me, and we'd risk it together." + +"Risk what?" stammered Maria, turning her head right round to watch a +barge that was being towed by. + +"Risk our luck. Two hundred a-year is not so bad to begin upon. I should +take the floor above as well as the ground-floor I rent now, and we +should get along. Any way, I hope to try it." + +"Oh, Mr. Dene!" + +"Now don't 'Mr. Dene' me, young lady, if you please. Why, Maria, what +else can we do? A mean, malicious set of dogs and cats have turned their +backs upon us both; the least we should do is to see if we can't do +without them. I know you'd rather come to me than stay in Edgar Street." + +Maria held her tongue, as to whether she would or not. "Mamma is +negotiating to get me a situation at Cheltenham," she said. + +"You will not go to Cheltenham, or anywhere else, if I get any luck," he +replied dictatorially. "Life would look very blue to me now without you, +Maria. And many a man and wife, rolling in riches at the end, have +rubbed on with less than two hundred a-year at the beginning. I wouldn't +say, mind, but we might risk it on a hundred and fifty. My rent is low, +you see." + +"Ye--es," stammered Maria "But--I wish that mystery of the guineas could +be cleared up!" + +Sam stood still, turned, and faced her. "Why do you say _that_? You are +not suspecting that I took them?" + +"Oh dear, NO," returned Maria, losing her breath. "I _know_ you did not +take them: could not. I was only thinking of your practice: so much more +would come in." + +"Cockermuth has sent me a small matter or two. I think I shall get on," +repeated Sam. + +They were at their journey's end by that time, at the dressmaker's door. +"Good-evening," said Maria, timidly holding out her hand. + +Sam Dene took it and clasped it. "Good-bye, my darling. I am going home +to my bread-and-cheese supper, and I wish you were there to eat it with +me!" + +Maria sighed. She wondered whether that wonderful state of things would +ever come to pass. Perhaps no; perhaps yes. Meanwhile no living soul +knew aught of these treasonable aspirations; they were a secret between +her and Sam. Mr. and Mrs. Parslet suspected nothing. + +Time went on. Lawyer Chance was as good as his word, and put a few small +matters of business into the hands of Sam Dene. Mr. Cockermuth did the +same. The town came down upon him for it; though it let Chance alone, +who was not the sort of man to be dictated to. "Well," said Cockermuth +in answer, "I don't believe the lad is guilty; never have believed it. +Had he been of a dishonest turn, he could have helped himself before, +for a good deal of my cash passed at times through his hands. And, given +that he was innocent, he has been hardly dealt by." + +Sam Dene was grateful for these stray windfalls, and returned his best +thanks to the lawyers for them. But they did not amount to much in +the aggregate; and a gloomy vision began to present itself to his +apprehension of being forced to give up the struggle, and wandering out +in the world to seek a better fortune. The summer assizes drew near. Sam +had no grand cause to come on at them, or small one either; but it was +impossible not to give a thought now and again to what his fate might +have been, had he stood committed to take his trial at them. The popular +voice said that was only what he merited. + + +VI. + +The assizes were held, and passed. One hot day, when July was +nearing its meridian, word was brought to Miss Cockermuth--who was +charitable--that a poor sick woman whom she befriended, was worse than +usual, so she put on her bonnet and cloak to pay her a visit. The +bonnet was a huge Leghorn, which shaded her face well from the sun, its +trimming of straw colour; and the cloak was of thin black "taffeta," +edged with narrow lace. It was a long walk on a hot afternoon, for the +sick woman lived but just on this side Henwick. Miss Betty had got as +far as the bridge, and was about to cross it when Sam Dene, coming over +it at a strapping pace, ran against her. + +"Miss Betty!" he cried. "I beg your pardon." + +Miss Betty brought her bonnet from under the shade of her large +grass-green parasol. "Dear me, is it you, Sam Dene?" she said. "Were you +walking for a wager?" + +Sam laughed a little. "I was hastening back to my office, Miss Betty. I +have no clerk, you know, and a client _might_ come in." + +Miss Betty gave her head a twist, something between a nod and a shake; +she noticed the doubtful tone in the "might." "Very hot, isn't it?" said +she. "I'm going up to see that poor Hester Knowles; she's uncommon bad, +I hear." + +"You'll have a warm walk." + +"Ay. Are you pretty well, Sam? You look thin." + +"Do I? Oh, that's nothing but the heat of the weather. I am quite well, +thank you. Good-afternoon, Miss Betty." + +She shook his hand heartily. One of Sam's worst enemies, who might have +run in a curricle with Charles Cockermuth, as to an out-and-out belief +in his guilt, was passing at the moment, and saw it. + +Miss Betty crossed the bridge, turned off into Turkey, for it was +through those classical regions that her nearest and coolest way lay, +and so onwards to the sick woman's room. There she found the blazing +July sun streaming in at the wide window, which had no blind, no shelter +whatever from it. Miss Betty had had enough of the sun out-of-doors, +without having it in. Done up with the walk and the heat, she sat down +on the first chair, and felt ready to swoon right off. + +"Dear me, Hester, this is bad for you!" she gasped. + +"Did you mean the sun, ma'am?" asked the sick woman, who was sitting +full in it, wrapped in a blanket or two. "It is a little hot just now, +but I don't grumble at it; I'm so cold mostly. As soon as the sun goes +off the window, I shall begin to shiver." + +"Well-a-day!" responded Miss Betty, wishing she could be cool enough to +shiver. "But if you feel it cold now, Hester, what will you do when the +autumn winds come on?" + +"Ah, ma'am, please do not talk of it! I just can't tell what I shall do. +That window don't fit tight, and the way the wind pours in through it +upon me as I sit here at evening, or lie in my little bed there, passes +belief. I'm coughing always then." + +"You should have some good thick curtains put up," said Miss Betty, +gazing at the bare window, which had a pot of musk on its sill. "Woollen +ones." + +The sick woman smiled sadly. She was very poor now, though it had not +always been so; she might as well have hoped to buy the sun itself as +woollen curtains--or cotton curtains either. Miss Betty knew that. + +"I'll think about it, Hester, and see if I've any old ones that I could +let you have. I'm not sure; but I'll look," repeated she--and began to +empty her capacious dimity pockets of a few items of good things she had +brought. + +By-and-by, when she was a little cooler, and had talked with Hester, +Miss Betty set off home again, her mind running upon the half-promised +curtains. "They are properly shabby," thought she, as she went along, +"but they'll serve to keep the sun and the wind off her." + +She was thinking of those warm green curtains that she had picked the +braid from that past disastrous morning--as the reader heard of, and all +the town as well. Nothing had been done with them since. + +Getting home, Miss Betty turned into the parlour. Susan--who had not +yet found leisure to fix any time for her wedding--found her mistress +fanning her hot face, her bonnet untied and tilted back. + +"I've been to see that poor Hester Knowles, Susan," began Miss Betty. + +"Law, ma'am!" interposed Susan. "What a walk for you this scorching +afternoon! All up that wide New Road!" + +"You may well say that, girl: but I went Turkey away. She's very ill, +poor thing; and that's a frightfully staring window of hers, the sun on +it like a blazing fire, and not as much as a rag for a blind; and the +window don't fit, she says, and in cold weather the biting wind comes in +and shivers her up. I think I might give her those shabby old curtains, +Susan--that were up in Mr. Philip's room, you know, before we got the +new chintz ones in." + +"So you might, ma'am," said Susan, who was not a bad-hearted girl, +excepting to the baker's man. "They can't go up at any of our windows as +they be; and if you had 'em dyed, I don't know as they'd answer much, +being so shabby." + +"I put them--let me see--into the spare ottoman, didn't I? Yes, that was +it. And there I suppose they must be lying still." + +"Sure enough, Miss Betty," said Susan. "I've not touched 'em." + +"Nor I," said Miss Betty. "With all the trouble that got into our house +at that time, I couldn't give my mind to seeing after the old things, +and I've not thought about them since. Come upstairs with me now, Susan; +we'll see what sort of a state they are in." + +They went up; and Miss Betty took off her bonnet and cloak and put +her cap on. The spare ottoman, soft, and red, and ancient, used as a +receptacle for odds and ends that were not wanted, stood in a spacious +linen-closet on the first-floor landing. It was built out over the +back-door, and had a skylight above. Susan threw back the lid of the +ottoman, and Miss Betty stood by. The faded old brown curtains, green +once, lay in a heap at one end, just as Miss Betty had hastily flung +them in that past day in March, when on her way to look at the chintzes. + +"They're in a fine rabble, seemingly," observed Susan, pausing to regard +the curtains. + +"Dear me!" cried Miss Betty, conscience-stricken, for she was a careful +housewife, "I let them drop in any way, I remember. I did mean to have +them well shaken out-of-doors and properly folded, but that bother drove +it all out of my head. Take them out, girl." + +Susan put her strong arms underneath the heap and lifted it out with +a fling. Something heavy flew out of the curtains, and dropped on the +boarded floor with a crash. Letting fall the curtains, Susan gave a +wild shriek of terror and Miss Betty gave a wilder, for the floor was +suddenly covered with shining gold coins. Mr. Cockermuth, passing across +the passage below at the moment, heard the cries, wondered whether the +house was on fire, and came hastening up. + +"Oh," said he coolly, taking in the aspect of affairs. "So the thief was +you, Betty, after all!" + +He picked up the ebony box, and bent his head to look at the guineas. +Miss Betty sank down on a three-legged stool--brought in for Philip's +children--and grew as white as death. + +Yes, it was the missing box of guineas, come to light in the same +extraordinary and unexpected manner that it had come before, without +having been (as may be said) truly lost. When Miss Betty gathered her +curtains off the dining-room table that March morning, a cumbersome and +weighty heap, she had unwittingly gathered up the box with them. No +wonder Sam Dene had not seen the box on the table after Miss Betty's +departure! It was a grievous misfortune, though, that he failed to take +notice it was not there. + +She had no idea she was not speaking truth in saying she saw the box +on the table as she left the room. Having seen the box there all the +morning she thought it was there still, and that she saw it, being quite +unconscious that it was in her arms. Susan, too, had noticed the box on +the table when she opened the door to call her mistress, and believed +she was correct in saying she saw it there to the last: the real fact +being that she had not observed it was gone. So there the box with +its golden freight had lain undisturbed, hidden in the folds of the +curtains. But for Hester Knowles's defective window, it might have +stayed there still, who can say how long? + +Susan, no less scared than her mistress, stood back against the closet +wall for safety, out of reach of those diabolical coins; Miss Betty, +groaning and half-fainting on the three-legged stool, sat pushing back +her cap and her front. The lawyer picked up the guineas and counted them +as he laid them flat in the box. Sixty of them: not one missing. So +Sam's guinea _was_ his own! He had not, as Worcester whispered, trumped +up the story with Maria Parslet. + +"John," gasped poor Miss Betty, beside herself with remorse and terror, +"John, what will become of me now? Will anything be done?" + +"How 'done'?" asked he. + +"Will they bring me to trial--or anything of that--in poor Sam's place?" + +"Well, I don't know," answered her brother grimly; "perhaps not this +time. But I'd have you take more care in future, Betty, than to hide +away gold in old curtains." + +Locking the box securely within his iron safe, Mr. Cockermuth put on +his hat and went down to the town hall, where the magistrates, after +dispensing their wisdom, were about to disperse for the day. He told +them of the wonderful recovery of the box of guineas, of how it had been +lost, and that Sam Dene was wholly innocent. Their worships were of +course charmed to hear it, Mr. Whitewicker observing that they had only +judged Sam by appearances, and that appearances had been sufficient (in +theory) to hang him. + +From the town hall, Mr. Cockermuth turned off to Sam's office. Sam was +making a great show of business, surrounded by a tableful of imposing +parchments, but with never a client to the fore. His old master grasped +his hand. + +"Well, Sam, my boy," he said, "the tables have turned for you. That box +of guineas is found." + +Sam never spoke an answering word. His lips parted with expectation: his +breath seemed to be a little short. + +"Betty had got it all the time. She managed somehow to pick it up +off the table with those wretched old curtains she had there, all +unconsciously, of course, and it has lain hidden with the curtains +upstairs in a lumber-box ever since. Betty will never forgive herself. +She'll have a fit of the jaundice over this." + +Sam drew a long breath. "You will let the public know, sir?" + +"Ay, Sam, without loss of an hour. I've begun with the magistrates--and +a fine sensation the news made amidst 'em, I can tell you; and now I'm +going round to the newspapers; and I shall go over to Elm Farm the first +thing to-morrow. The town took up the cause against you, Sam: take care +it does not eat you now in its repentance. Look here, you'll have to +come round to Betty, or she'll moan her heart out: you won't bear +malice, Sam?" + +"No, that I won't," said Sam warmly. "Miss Betty did not bear it to me. +She has been as kind as can be all along." + +The town did want to eat Sam. It is the custom of the true Briton to go +to extremes. Being unable to shake Sam's hands quite off, the city would +fain have chaired him round the streets with honours, as it used to +chair its newly returned members. + +Captain Cockermuth, sent for post haste, came to Worcester all +contrition, beseeching Sam to forgive him fifty times a-day, and wanting +to press the box of guineas upon him as a peace-offering. Sam would not +take it: he laughingly told the captain that the box did not seem to +carry luck with it. + +And then Sam's troubles were over. And no objection was made by his +people (as it otherwise might have been) to his marrying Maria Parslet, +by way of recompense. "God never fails to bring good out of evil, my +dear," said old Mrs. Jacobson to Maria, the first time they had her +on a visit at Elm Farm. As to Sam, he had short time for Elm Farm, +or anything else in the shape of recreation. Practice was flowing in +quickly: litigants arguing, one with another, that a young man, lying +for months under an imputation of theft, and then coming out of it with +flying colours, must needs be a clever lawyer. + +"But, Johnny," Sam said to me, when talking of the past, "there's one +thing I would alter if I made the laws. No person, so long as he is only +suspected of crime, should have his name proclaimed publicly. I am not +speaking of murder, you understand, or charges of that grave nature; +but of such a case as mine. My name appeared in full, in all the local +newspapers, Samson Reginald Dene, coupled with theft, and of course +it got a mark upon it. It is an awful blight upon a man when he is +innocent, one that he may never quite live down. Suspicions must arise, +I know that, of the innocent as well as the guilty, and they must +undergo preliminary examinations in public and submit to legal +inquiries: but time enough to proclaim who the man is when evidence +strengthens against him, and he is committed for trial; until then let +his name be suppressed. At least that is my opinion." + +And it is mine as well as Sam's. + + + + +OUR FIRST TERM AT OXFORD. + + +I. + +It was Friday night at the Oxford terminus, and all the world scrambling +for cabs. Sir John and the Squire, nearly lifted off their legs, and +too much taken aback to fight for themselves, stood against the wall, +thinking the community had gone suddenly mad. Bill Whitney and Tod, +tall, strong young fellows, able to hold their own anywhere, secured a +cab at length, and we and our luggage got in and on it. + +"To the Mitre." + +"If this is a specimen of Oxford manners, the sooner the lads are at +home the better," growled the Squire. Sir John Whitney was settling his +spectacles on his nose--nearly lost off it in the scuffle. + +"Snepp told me it was a regular shindy at the terminus the first day of +term, with all the students coming back," said Bill Whitney. + +There had been no end of discussion as to our college career. Sir +John Whitney said William must go to Oxford, as he had been at Oxford +himself; whereas Brandon stood out against Oxford for me; would not hear +of it. He preferred Cambridge he said: and to Cambridge Johnny Ludlow +should go: and he, as my guardian, had full power over me. The Squire +cared not which university was chosen; but Tod went in for Oxford with +all his strong will: he said the boating was best there. The result was +that Mr. Brandon gave way, and we were entered at Christchurch. + +Mr. Brandon had me at his house for two days beforehand, giving me +counsel. He had one of his bad colds just then and kept his room, and +his voice was never more squeaky. The last evening, I sat up there with +him while he sipped his broth. The fire was large enough to roast us, +and he had three flannel night-caps on. It was that night that he +talked to me most. He believed with all his heart, he said, that the +temptations to young men were greater at Oxford than at Cambridge; that, +of the two, the more reckless set of men were there: and that was one of +the reasons why he had objected to Oxford for me. And then he proceeded +to put the temptations pretty strongly before me, and did not mince +things, warning me that it would require all the mental and moral +strength I possessed to resist them, and steer clear of a course of sin +and shame. He then suddenly opened the Bible, which was on the table at +his elbow, and read out a line or two from the thirtieth chapter of +Deuteronomy. + +"'See, I have set before you this day life and good, and death and evil: +therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live.'" + +"That's what I have been striving to set before you, Johnny Ludlow. Read +that chapter, the whole of it, often; treasure its precepts in your +heart; and may God give you grace to keep them!" + +He shook hands with me in silence. I took up my candle and waited a +moment, for I thought he was going to speak again. + +"Will you try to keep them, lad?" + +"I will try, sir." + +We were fortunate in getting good rooms at Christchurch. Tod's and mine +were close together; Bill Whitney's on the floor above. Our sitting-room +was pleasant; it had an old cracked piano in it, which turned out to be +passably fair when it had been tinkered and tuned. The windows looked +out on the trees of the Broad Walk and to the meadows beyond; but trees +are bare in winter, and the month was January. I had never stayed at +Oxford before: and I saw that I should like it, with its fine, grand old +colleges. The day after we got there, Saturday, we wrote our names in +the dean's book, and saw our tutor. The rest of the day was spent in +seeing about battels and getting into the new ways. Very new to us. A +civil young fellow, who waited on us as scout, was useful; they called +him "Charley" in the college. Tod pulled a long face at some of the +rules, and did not like the prospect of unlimited work. + +"I'll go in for the boating and fishing and driving, Johnny; and you can +go in for the books." + +"All right, Tod." I knew what he meant. It was not that he did not +intend to take a fair amount of work: but to exist without a good share +of out-of-door life also, would have been hard lines for Tod. + +The Sunday services were beautiful. The first Sunday of term was a high +day, and the cathedral was filled. Orders of admission to the public +were not necessary that day, and a general congregation mixed with the +students. Sir John and the Squire were staying at the Mitre until +Monday. After service we went to promenade in the Broad Walk--and it +seemed that everybody else went. + +"Look there!" cried the Squire, "at this tall clergyman coming along. +I am sure he is one of the canons of Worcester." + +It was Mr. Fortescue--Honourable and Reverend. He halted for a minute to +exchange greetings with Sir John Whitney, whom he knew, and then passed +on his way. + +"There's some pretty girls about, too," resumed the Squire, gazing +around. "Not that I'd advise you boys to look much at them. Wonder if +they often walk here?" + +Before a week had gone by, we were quite at home; had shaken down into +our new life as passengers shake down in their places in an omnibus; and +made lots of friends. Some I liked; some I did not like. There was one +fellow always coming in--a tall dark man with crisp hair; his name +Richardson. He had plenty of money and kept dogs and horses, and seemed +to go in for every kind of fast life the place afforded. Of work he did +none; and report ran that he was being watched by the proctor, with whom +he was generally in hot water. Altogether he was not in good odour: and +he had a way of mocking at religion as though he were an atheist. + +"I heard a bit about Richardson just now," cried Whitney, one morning +that he had brought his commons in to breakfast with us--and the fields +outside were white with snow. "Mayhew says he's a scamp." + +"Don't think he's much else, myself," said Tod. "I say, just taste this +butter! It's shockingly strong. Wonder what it is made of?" + +"Mayhew says he's a liar as well as a villain. There's no speaking after +him. Last term a miserable affair occurred in the town; the authorities +could not trace it home to Richardson though they suspected he was the +black sheep. Lots of fellows knew he was: but he denied it out-and-out. +I think we had better not have much to do with him." + +"He entertains jolly well," said Tod. "Johnny, you've boiled these +eggs too hard. And his funds seem to spring from some perpetual gold +mine----" + +The door opened, and two bull-dogs burst in, leaping and howling. +Richardson--they were his--followed, with little Ford; the latter a +quiet, inoffensive man, who stuck to his work. + +"Be quiet, you two devils!" cried Richardson, kicking his dogs. "Lie +down, will you? I say, I've a wine-coach on to-night in my rooms, after +Hall. Shall be glad to see you all at it." + +Considering the conversation he had broken in upon, none of us had a +very ready answer at hand. + +"I have heaps of letters to answer to-night, and must do it," said +Whitney. "Thank you all the same." + +Richardson might have read coolness in the tone; I don't know; but he +turned the back of his chair on Bill to face Tod. + +"You have not letters to write, I suppose, Todhetley?" + +"Not I. I leave letters to Ludlow." + +"You'll come, then?" + +"Can't," said Tod candidly. "Don't mean to go in for wine-parties." + +"Oh," said Richardson. "You'll tell another tale when you've been here +a bit longer. _Will_ you be still, you brutes?" + +"Hope I shan't," said Tod. "Wine plays the very mischief with work. +Should never get any done if I went in for it." + +"Do you intend to go up for honours?" went on Richardson. + +"'Twould be a signal failure if I did. I leave all that to Ludlow--as +I said by the letters. See to the dogs, Richardson." + +The animals had struck up a fight. Richardson secured the one and sent +the other out with a kick. Our scout was coming in, and the dog flew at +him. No damage; but a great row. + +"Charley," cried Tod, "this butter's not fit to eat." + +"Is it not, sir? What's the matter with it?" + +"The matter with it?--everything's the matter with it." + +"Is _that_ your scout?" asked Richardson, when the man had gone again, +holding his dog between his knees as he sat. + +"Yes," said Tod. "And your dogs all but made mincemeat of him. You +should teach them better manners." + +"Serve him right if they had. His name's Tasson." + +"Tasson, is it? We call him Charley here." + +"I know. He's a queer one." + +"How is he queer?" + +"He's pious." + +"He's what?" + +"Pious," repeated Richardson, twisting his mouth. "A saint; a cant; a +sneak." + +"Good gracious!" cried Bill Whitney. + +"You think I'm jesting! Ask Ford here. Tell it, Ford." + +"Oh, it's true," said Ford: "true that he goes in for piety. Last term +there was a freshman here named Carstairs. He was young; rather soft; no +experience, you know, and he began to go the pace. One night this +Charley, his scout, fell on his knees, and besought him with tears not +to go to the bad; to pull up in time and remember what the end must be; +and--and so on." + +"What did Carstairs do?" + +"Do! why turned him out," put in Richardson. "Carstairs, by the way, has +taken his name off the books, or _had_ to take it off." + +"Charley is civil and obliging to us," said Whitney. "Never presumes." + +How much of the tale was gospel we knew not; but for my own part, I +liked Charley. There was something about him quite different from scouts +and servants in general--and by the way, I don't think Charley was a +scout, only a scout's help--but in appearance and diction and manner +he was really superior. A slim, slight young fellow of twenty, with +straight fine light hair and blue eyes, and a round spot of scarlet on +his thin cheeks. + +"I say, Charley, they say you are pious," began Bill Whitney that same +day after lecture, when the man was bringing in the bread-and-cheese +from the buttery. + +He coloured to the roots of his light hair, and did not answer. Bill +never minded what he said to any one. + +"You were scout to Mr. Carstairs. Did you take his morals under your +special protection?" + +"Be quiet, Whitney," said Tod in an undertone. + +"And constitute yourself his guardian-angel-in-ordinary? Didn't you go +down on your knees to him with tears and sobs, and beseech him not to go +to the bad?" went on Bill. + +"There's not a word of truth in it, sir. One evening when Mr. Carstairs +was lying on his sofa, tired and ill--for he was beginning to lead a +life that had no rest in it, hardly, day or night, a folded slip of +paper was brought in from Mr. Richardson, and Mr. Carstairs bade me read +it to him. It was to remind him of some appointment for the night. Mr. +Carstairs was silent for a minute, and then burst out with a kind of +sharp cry, painful to hear. 'By Heaven, if this goes on, they'll ruin +me, body and soul! I've a great mind not to go.' I did speak then, sir; +I told him he was ill, and had better stay at home; and I said that it +was easy enough for him to pull up then, but that when one got too far +on the down-hill path it was more difficult." + +"Was that all?" cried Whitney. + +"Every word, sir. I should not have spoken at all but that I had known +Mr. Carstairs before we came here. Mr. Richardson made a great deal of +it, and gave it quite a different colouring." + +"Did Mr. Carstairs turn you away for that?" I asked of Charley; when he +came back for the things, and the other two had gone out. + +"Three or four days after it happened, sir, Mr. Carstairs stopped my +waiting on him again. I think it was through Mr. Richardson. Mr. +Carstairs had refused to go out with him the evening it occurred." + +"You knew Mr. Carstairs before he came to Oxford. Where was it?" + +"It was----" he hesitated, and then went on. "It was at the school he +was at in London, sir. I was a junior master there." + +Letting a plate fall--for I was helping to pack them, wanting the +table--I stared at the fellow. "A master there and----" and a servant +here, I all but said, but I stopped the words. + +"Only one of the outer masters, attending daily," he went on quietly. +"I taught writing and arithmetic, and English to the juniors." + +"But how comes it that you are here in this post, Charley?" + +"I had reasons for wishing to come to live at Oxford, sir." + +"But why not have sought out something better than this?" + +"I did seek, sir. But nothing of the kind was to be had, and this place +offered. There's many a one, sir, falls into the wrong post in life, and +can never afterwards get into the right one." + +"But--do you--like this?" + +"_Like_ it, sir; no! But I make a living at it. One thing I shall be +always grateful to Mr. Carstairs for: that he did not mention where +he had known me. I should not like it to be talked of in the college, +especially by Mr. Richardson." + +He disappeared with his tray as he spoke. It sounded quite mysterious. +But I took the hint, and said nothing. + +The matter passed. Charley did not put on any mentorship to us, and the +more we saw of him the more we liked him. But an impression gradually +dawned upon us that he was not strong enough for his place. Carrying a +heavy tray upstairs would set him panting like an old man, and he could +not run far or fast. + +One day I was hard at work, Tod and Whitney being off somewhere, driving +tandem, when a queer, ugly-sounding cough kept annoying me from outside: +but whether it came from dog or man I could not tell. Opening the door +at last, there sat Charley on the stairs, his head resting against the +wall, and his cheeks brighter than a red leaf in autumn. + +"What, is it you, Charley? Where did you pick up that cough?" + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, starting up. "I thought your rooms +were empty." + +"Come in till the fit's over. You are in a regular draught there. Come +along," for he hesitated--"I want to shut the door." + +He came in, coughing finely, and I gave him the chair by the fire. It +was nothing, he said, and would soon be gone. He had caught it a day or +two back in the bleak east wind: the college was draughty, and he had to +be on the run out-of-doors in all sorts of weather. + +"Well, you know, Charley, putting east winds and draughts aside, you +don't seem to be quite up to your work here in point of strength." + +"I was up to it, sir, when I took it. It's a failing in some of our +family, sir, to have weak lungs. I shall be all right again, soon." + +The coughing was over, and he got up to go away, evidently not liking to +intrude. There was a degree of sensitiveness about him that, of itself, +might have shown he was superior to his position. + +"Take a good jorum of treacle-posset, Charley, at bed-time." + + * * * * * + +Spring weather came in with February. The biting cold and snow of +January disappeared, and genial sunshine warmed the earth again. The +first Sunday in this same February month, from my place at morning +service, looking out on the townsfolk who had come in with orders, I saw +a lady, very little and pretty, staring fixedly at me from afar. The +face--where had I seen her face? It seemed familiar, but I could not +tell how or where I had known it. A small slight face of almost an ivory +white, and wide-open light blue eyes that had plenty of confidence in +them. + +Sophie Chalk! I should have recognized her at the first moment but for +the different mode in which her hair was dressed. Wonderful hair! A +vast amount of it, and made the most of. She wore it its natural colour +to-day, brown, and the red tinge on it shone like burnished gold. She +knew me; that was certain; and I could not help watching her. Her eyes +went roving away presently, possibly in search of Tod. I stole a glance +at him; but he did not appear to see her. What brought her to Oxford? + +We got out of church. I took care to hold my tongue. Tod had cared for +Sophie Chalk--there could be little doubt of it--as one never cares for +anybody again in life: and it might be just as well--in spite of the +exposé of mademoiselle's false ways and misdoings--that they did not +meet. Syrens are syrens all the world over. + +The day went on to a bright moonlight night. Tod and I, out for a +stroll, were standing within the shade of the fine old Magdalen Tower, +talking to a fellow of Trinity, when there came up a lady of delicate +presence, the flowers in her bonnet exhaling a faint odour of perfume. + +"I _think_ I am not mistaken--I am sure--yes, I _am_ sure it is Mr. +Ludlow. And--surely that cannot be Mr. Todhetley?" + +Tod wheeled round at the soft, false voice. The daintily gloved hand was +held out to him; the fair, false face was bent close: and his own face +turned red and white with emotion. I saw it even in the shade of the +moonlight. Had she been strolling about to look for us? Most likely. A +few moments more, and we were all three walking onwards together. + +"Only fancy my position!" she gaily said. "Here am I, all forlorn, set +down alone in this great town, and must take care of myself as I best +can. The formidable gowns and caps frighten me." + +"The gowns and caps will do you no harm--Miss Chalk," cried Tod--and he +only just saved himself from saying "Sophie." + +"Do you think not," she returned, touching the sleeve of her velvet +jacket, as if to brush off a fly. "But I beg you will accord me my due +style and title, Mr. Todhetley, and honour me accordingly. I am no +longer Miss Chalk. I am Mrs. Everty." + +So she had married Mr. Everty after all! She minced along between us in +her silk gown, her hands in her ermine muff that looked made for a doll. +At the private door of a shop in High Street she halted, rang the bell, +and threw the door open. + +"You will walk up and take a cup of tea with me. Nay, but you must--or +I shall think you want to hold yourselves above poor little me, now +you are grand Oxford men." + +She went along the passage and up the stairs: there seemed no resource +but to follow. In the sitting-room, which was very well furnished and +looked out upon the street, a fire burned brightly; and a lamp and +tea-things stood on the table. + +"Where have you been?--keeping me waiting for my tea in this way! You +never think of any one but yourself: never." + +The querulous complaint, and thin, shrill voice came from a small dark +girl who sat at the window, peering out into the lighted street. I had +not forgotten the sharp-featured sallow face and the deep-set eyes. It +was Mabel Smith, the poor little lame and deformed girl I had seen in +Torriana Square. She really did not look much older or bigger, and she +spoke as abruptly as ever. + +"I remember you, Johnny Ludlow." + +Mrs. Everty made the tea. Her dress, white one way, green the other, +gleamed like silver in the lamplight. It had a quantity of white lace +upon it: light green ribbons were twisted in her hair. "I should think +it would be better to have those curtains drawn, Mabel. Your tea's +ready: if you will come to it." + +"But I choose to have the curtains open and I'll take my tea here," +answered Mabel. "You may be going out again for hours, and what company +should I have but the street? I don't like to be shut up in a strange +room: I might see ghosts. Johnny Ludlow, that's a little coffee-table by +the wall: if you'll put it here it will hold my cup and saucer." + +I put it near her with her tea and plate of bread-and-butter. + +"Won't you sit by me? I am very lonely. Those other two can talk to one +another." + +So I carried my cup and sat down by Mabel. The "other two," as Mabel put +it, were talking and laughing. Tod was taking a lesson in tea-making +from her, and she called him awkward. + +"Are you living here?" I asked of Mabel under cover of the noise. + +"Living here! no," she replied in her old abrupt fashion. "Do you think +papa would let me be living over a shop in Oxford? My grandmamma lives +near the town, and she invited me down on a visit to her. There was no +one to bring me, and she said _she_ would"--indicating Sophie--"and we +came yesterday. Well, would you believe it? Grandmamma had meant _next_ +Saturday, and she could not take us in, having visitors already. I +wanted to go back home; but she said she liked the look of Oxford, and +she took these rooms for a week. Two guineas without fires and other +extras: I call it dear. How came she to find you out, Johnny?" + +"We met just now. She tells us she is Mrs. Everty now." + +"Oh yes, they are married. And a nice bargain Mr. Everty has in her! Her +dresses must cost twenty pounds apiece. Some of them _thirty_ pounds! +Look at the lace on that one. Mrs. Smith, papa's wife, gives her a good +talking-to sometimes, telling her Mr. Everty's income won't stand it. +I should think it would not!--though I fancy he has a small share in +papa's business now." + +"Do they live in London?" + +"Oh yes, they live in London. Close to us, too! In one of the small +houses in Torriana Street. _She_ wanted to take a large house in the +square like ours, but Mr. Everty was too wise." + +Talking to this girl, my thoughts back in the past, I wondered whether +Sophie's people had heard of the abstraction of Miss Deveen's emeralds. +But it was not likely. To look at her now: watching her fascinating +ease, listening to her innocent reminiscences of the time we had all +spent together at Lady Whitney's, I might have supposed she had taken +a dose of the waters of Lethe, and that Sophie Chalk had always been +guileless as a child; an angel without wings. + +"She has lost none of her impudence, Tod," I said as we went home. "In +the old days, you know, we used to say she'd fascinate the hair off our +heads, give her the chance. She'd wile off both ears as well now. A good +thing she's married!" + +Tod broke into a whistle, and went striding on. + +Before the week was out, Sophie Chalk--we generally called her by +the old name--had become intimate with some of the men of different +colleges. Mabel Smith went to her grandmother's, and Sophie had nothing +to do but exhibit her charms in the Oxford streets and entertain her +friends. The time went on. Hardly an evening passed but Tod was there; +Bill Whitney went sometimes; I rarely. Sophie did not fascinate me, +whatever she might do by others. Sophie treated her guests to wine and +spirits, and to unlimited packs of cards. Bill Whitney said one night +in a joking way that he was not sure but she might be indicted for +keeping a private gaming-house. Richardson was one of her frequent +evening visitors, and she would let him take his bull-dogs to make a +morning call. There would be betting over the cards in the evenings, +and she did not attempt to object. Sophie would not play herself; she +dispersed her fascinations amidst the company while they played, and +sang songs at the piano--one of the best pianos to be found in Oxford. +There set in a kind of furore for pretty Mrs. Everty; the men who had +the entrée there went wild over her charms, and vied with each other in +making her costly presents. Sophie broke into raptures of delight over +each with the seeming simplicity of a child, and swept all into her +capacious net. + +I think it was receiving those presents that was keeping her in Oxford; +or helping to keep her. Some of them were valuable. Very valuable indeed +was a set of diamonds, brooch and ear-rings, that soft young calf, +Gaiton, brought her; but what few brains the viscount had were clean +dazzled away by Sophie's attractions: and Richardson gave her a +bejewelled fan that must have cost a small fortune. If Sophie Chalk did +spend her husband's money, she was augmenting her stock of precious +stones--and she had not lost her passion for them. + +One morning my breakfast was brought in by a strange fellow, gloomy and +grim. Tod had gone to breakfast with Mayhew. + +"Where's Charley?" I asked. + +"Sick," was the short answer. + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"Down with a cold, or something." + +And we had this surly servant for ever so long to come: and I'm sorry +to say got so accustomed to seeing his face as to forget sick Charley. + + +II. + +"Will you go up the river for a row, Johnny?" + +"I don't mind if I do." + +The questioner was Bill Whitney; who had come in to look for Tod. I had +nothing particular on hand that afternoon, and the skies were blue and +the sun golden. So we went down to the river together. + +"Where has Tod got to?" he asked. + +"Goodness knows. I've not seen him since lecture this morning." + +We rowed up to Godstowe. Bill disappeared with some friend of his from +Merton's, who had watched us put in. I strolled about. Every one knows +the dark pool of water there. On the bench under the foliage, so thick +in summer, but bare yet in this early season, warm and sunny though it +was, sat a man wrapped in a great-coat, whom I took at first to be +a skeleton with painted cheeks. But one does not care to stare at +skeletons, knowing they'd help their looks if they could; and I was +passing him with my face turned the other way. + +"Good-afternoon, sir." + +I turned at the hollow words--hollow in sound as though they came out +of a drum. It was Charley: the red paint on his thin cheeks was nothing +but natural hectic, and the blue of his eyes shone painfully bright. + +"Why, what's the matter, Charley?" + +"A fly-man, who had to drive here and back, brought me with him for a +mouthful of fresh air, it being so warm and bright. It is the first +time I have been able to get out, sir." + +"You are poorly, Charley." I had all but said "dying." But one can only +be complimentary to a poor fellow in that condition. + +"Very ill I have been, sir; but I'm better. At one time I never thought +I should get up again. It's this beautiful warm weather coming in so +early that has restored me." + +"I don't know about restored? You don't look great things yet." + +"You should have seen me a short while ago, sir! I'm getting on." + +Lying by his side, on a piece of paper, was a thick slice, doubled, of +bread-and-butter, that he must have brought with him. He broke a piece +off, and ate it. + +"You look hungry, Charley." + +"That's the worst of it, sir; I'm always hungry," he answered, and his +tone from its eagerness was quite painful to hear, and his eyes grew +moist, and the hectic spread on his cheeks. "It is the nature of the +complaint, I'm told: and poor mother was the same. I could be eating and +drinking every hour, sir, and hardly be satisfied." + +"Come along to the inn, and have some tea." + +"No, sir; no, thank you," he said, shrinking back. "I answered your +remark thoughtlessly, sir, for it's the truth; not with any notion +that it would make you ask me to take anything. And I've got some +bread-and-butter here." + +Going indoors, I told them to serve him a good tea, with a big dish of +bacon and eggs, or some relishing thing of that sort. Whitney came in +and heard me. + +"You be hanged, Johnny! We are not going in for all that, here!" + +"It's not for us, Bill; it's for that poor old scout, Charley. He's as +surely dying as that you and I are talking. Come and look at him: you +never saw such an object. I don't believe he gets enough to eat." + +Whitney came, and did nothing but stare. Charley went indoors with a +good deal of pressing, and we saw him sit down to the feast. Whitney +stayed; I went out-of-doors again. + +I remembered a similar case. It was that of a young woman who used to +make Lena's frocks. She fell into a decline. Her appetite was wonderful. +Anything good and substantial to eat and drink, she was always craving +for: and it all seemed to do her no good. Charley Tasson's sickness must +be of the same nature. She died: and he---- + +I was struck dumb! Seated on the bench under the trees, my thoughts back +in that past time, there came two figures over the rustic bridge. A lady +and gentleman, arm-in-arm: she in a hat and blue feather and dainty lace +parasol; and he with bent head and words softened to a whisper. +Tod!--and Sophie Chalk! + +"Good gracious! There's Johnny Ludlow!" + +She loosed his arm as she spoke, and came sailing up to me, her gold +bracelets jingling as she gave her hand. I don't believe there are ten +women in England who could get themselves up as effectively as did +Sophie Chalk. Tod looked black as thunder. + +"What the devil brings you here, Johnny?" + +"I rowed up with Whitney." + +A pause. "Who else is here?" + +"Forbes of Merton: Whitney has been about with him. And I suppose a few +others. We noticed a skiff or two waiting. Perhaps one was yours." + +I spoke indifferently, determined he should not know I was put out. +Seeing him there--I was going to say on the sly--with that beguiling +syren, who was to foretell what pitfalls she might charm him into? He +took Madame Sophie on his arm again to continue their promenade, and I +lost sight of them. + +I did not like it. It was not satisfactory. He had rowed her up--or +perhaps driven her up--and was marching about with her tête-à-tête under +the sweet spring sunshine. No great harm in itself this pastime: but +he might grow too fond of it. That she had reacquired all her strong +influence over Tod's heart was clear as the stars on a frosty night. +Whitney called out to me that it was time to think of going back. I got +into the boat with him, saying nothing. + +Charley told me where he lived--"Up Stagg's Entry"--for I said I would +call to see him. Just for a day or two there seemed to be no time; but +I got there one evening when Tod had gone to the syren's. It was a +dark, dusky place, this Stagg's Entry, and, I think, is done away with +now, with several houses crowded into it. Asking for Charles Tasson, +of a tidy, motherly woman on the stairs, she went before me, and threw +open a door. + +"Here's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Charley." + +He was lying in a bed at the end of the room near the fire, under the +lean-to roof. If I had been shocked at seeing him in the open air, in +the glad sunshine, I was doubly so now in the dim light of the tallow +candle. He rose in bed. + +"It's very kind of you to come here, sir! I'm sure I didn't expect you +to remember it." + +"Are you worse, Charley?" + +"I caught a fresh cold, sir, that day at Godstowe. And I'm as weak as a +rat too--hardly able to creep out of bed. Nanny, bring a chair for this +gentleman." + +One of the handiest little girls I ever saw, with the same shining blue +eyes that he had, and plump, pretty cheeks, laid hold of a chair. I took +it from her and sat down. + +"Is this your sister, Charley?" + +"Yes, sir. There's only us two left together. We were eight of us once. +Three went abroad, and one is in London, and two dead." + +"What doctor sees you?" + +"One comes in now and then, sir. My illness is not much in a doctor's +way. There's nothing he could do: nothing for me but to wait patiently +for summer weather." + +"What have you had to eat to-day?" + +"He had two eggs for his dinner: I boiled them," said little Nanny. "And +Mrs. Cann brought us in six herrings, and I cooked one for tea; and +he'll have some ale and bread-and-butter for supper." + +She spoke like a little important housekeeper. But I wondered whether +Charley was badly off. + +Mrs. Cann, the same woman who had spoken to me, came out of her room +opposite as I was going away. She followed me downstairs, and began to +talk in an undertone. "A sad thing, ain't it, sir, to see him a-lying +there so helpless; and to know that it has laid hold of him for good and +all. He caught it from his mother." + +"How do you mean?" + +"She died here in that room, just as the winter come in, with the same +complaint--decline they call it; and he waited on her and nursed her, +and must have caught it of her. A good son he was. They were well off +once, sir, but the father just brought 'em to beggary; and Charley--he +had a good education of his own--came down from London when his mother +got ill, and looked out for something to do here that he might stay +with her. At first he couldn't find anything; and when he was at a +sore pinch, he took a place at Christchurch College as scout's helper. +He had to pocket his pride: but there was Nanny as well as his mother." + +"I see." + +"He'd been teacher in a school up in London, sir, by day, and in the +evenings he used to help some young clergyman as scripture-reader to the +poor in one of them crowded parishes we hear tell of: he was always one +for trying to do what good he could. Naturally he'd be disheartened at +falling to be a bed-maker in a college, and I'm afraid the work was too +hard for him: but, as I say, he was a good son. The mother settled in +Oxford after her misfortunes." + +"How is he supported now? And the little girl?" + +"It's not over much of a support," said Mrs. Cann with disparagement. +"Not for him, that's a-craving for meat and drink every hour. The eldest +brother is in business in London, sir, and he sends them what they +have. Perhaps he's not able to do more." + +It was not late. I thought I would, for once, pay Mrs. Everty a visit. +A run of three minutes, and I was at her door. + +They were there--the usual set. Tod, and Richardson, and Lord Gaiton, +and the two men from Magdalen, and--well, it's no use enumerating--seven +or eight in all. Richardson and another were quarrelling at écarté, four +were at whist; Tod was sitting apart with Sophie Chalk. + +She was got up like a fairy at the play, in a cloud of thin white +muslin; her hair hanging around and sparkling with gold dust, and little +gleams of gold ornaments shining about her. If ever Joseph Todhetley had +need to pray against falling into temptation, it was during the weeks of +that unlucky term. + +"This is quite an honour, Johnny Ludlow," said Madame Sophie, rising to +meet me, her eyes sparkling with what might have been taken for the most +hearty welcome. "It is not often you honour my poor little room, sir." + +"It is not often I can find the time for it, Mrs. Everty. Tod, I came in +to see whether you were ready to go in." + +He looked at his watch hastily, fearing it might be later than it was; +and answered curtly and coolly. + +"Ready?--no. I have not had my revenge yet at écarté." + +Approaching the écarté table, he sat down. Mrs. Everty drew a chair +behind Lord Gaiton, and looked over his hand. + +The days passed. I had two cares on my mind, and they bothered me. The +one was Tod and his dangerous infatuation; the other, poor dying Charley +Tasson. Tod was losing frightfully at those card-tables. Night after +night it went on. Tod's steps were drawn thither by a fascination +irresistible: and whether the cards or their mistress were the more +subtle potion for him, or what was to be the ending of it all, no +living being could tell. + +As to Stagg's Entry, my visits to it had grown nearly as much into a +habit as Tod's had to High Street. When I stayed away for a night, +little Nanny would whisper to me the next that Charley had not taken +his eyes off the door. Sick people always like to see visitors. + +"Don't let him want for anything, Johnny," said Tod. "The pater would +blow us up." + +The time ran on, and the sands of Charley's life ran with it. One +Wednesday evening upon going in late, and not having many minutes to +stay, I found him on the bed in a dead faint, and the candle guttering +in the socket. Nanny was nowhere. I went across the passage to Mrs. +Cann's, and she was nowhere. It was an awkward situation; for I declare +that for the moment I thought he was gone. + +Knowing most of Nanny's household secrets, I looked in the candle-box +for a fresh candle. Charley was stirring then, and I gave him some +wine. He had had a similar fainting-fit at mid-day, he said, which had +frightened them, and Nanny had fetched the doctor. She was gone now, he +supposed, to fetch some medicine. + +"Is this the end, sir?" + +He asked it quite calmly. I could not tell: but to judge by his wan face +I thought it might be. And my time was up and more than up: and neither +Nanny nor Mrs. Cann came. The wine revived him and he seemed better; +quite well again: well, for him. But I did not like to leave him alone. + +"Would you mind reading to me, sir?" he asked. + +"What shall I read, Charley?" + +"It may be for the last time, sir. I'd like to hear the service for the +burial of the dead." + +So I read it every word, the long lesson, and all. Nanny came in before +it was finished, medicine in hand, and sat down in silence with her +bonnet on. She had been kept at the doctor's. Mrs. Cann was the next to +make her appearance, having been abroad on some business of her own: and +I got away when it was close upon midnight. + +"Your name and college, sir." + +"Ludlow. Christchurch." + +It was the proctor. He had pounced full upon me as I was racing home. +And the clocks were striking twelve! + +"Ludlow--Christchurch," he repeated, nodding his head. + +"I am sorry to be out so late, sir, against rules, but I could not help +it. I have been sitting with a sick man." + +"Very good," said he blandly; "you can tell that to-morrow to the dean. +Home to your quarters now, if you please, Mr. Ludlow." + +And I knew he believed me just as much as he would had I told him I'd +been up in a balloon. + +"You are a nice lot, Master Johnny!" + +The salutation was Tod's. He and Bill Whitney were sitting over the fire +in our room. + +"I couldn't help being late." + +"Of course not! As to late--it's only midnight. Next time you'll come in +with the milk." + +"Don't jest. I've been with that poor Charley, and I think he's dying. +The worst of it is, the proctor has just dropped upon me." + +"No!" It sobered them both, and they put aside their mockery. Bill, who +had the tongs in his hand, let them go down with a crash. + +"It's a thousand pities, Johnny. Not one of us has been before the dean +yet." + +"I can only tell the dean the truth." + +"As if he'd believe you! By Jupiter! Once get one of our names up, and +those proctors will track every step of the ground we tread on. They +watch a marked man as a starving cat watches a mouse." + +With the morning came in the requisition for me to attend before the +dean. When I got there, who should be stealing out of the room quite +sheepishly, his face down and his ears red, but Gaiton. + +"Is it your turn, Ludlow!" he cried, closing the room-door as softly as +though the dean had been asleep inside. + +"What have you been had up for, Gaiton?" + +"Oh, nothing. I got knocking about a bit last night, for Mrs. Everty did +not receive, and came across that confounded proctor." + +"Is the dean in a hard humour?" + +"Hard enough, and be hanged to him! It's not the dean: he's ill, or +something; perhaps been making a night of it himself: and Applerigg's on +duty for him. Dry old scarecrow! For two pins, Ludlow, I'd take my name +off the books, and be free of the lot." + +Dr. Applerigg had the reputation of being one of the strictest of +college dons. He was like a maypole, just as tall and thin, with a long, +sallow face, and enough learning to set up the reputations of three +archbishops for life. The doctor was marching up and down the room in +his college-cap, and turned his spectacles on me. + +"Shut the door, sir." + +While I did as I was bid, he sat down at an open desk near the fire and +looked at a paper that had some writing on it. + +"What age may you be, Mr. Ludlow?" he sternly asked, when a question or +two had passed. And I told him my age. + +"Oh! And don't you think it a very disreputable thing, a great +_discredit_, sir, for a young fellow of your years to be found abroad by +your proctor at midnight?" + +"But I could not help being late, sir, last night; and I was not abroad +for any purpose of pleasure. I had been staying with a poor fellow who +is sick; dying, in fact: and--and it was not my fault, sir." + +"Take care, young man," said he, glaring through his spectacles. +"There's one thing I can never forgive if deliberately told me, and +that's a lie." + +"I should be sorry to tell a lie, sir," I answered: and by the annoyance +so visible in his looks and tones, it was impossible to help fancying he +had found out, or thought he had found out, Gaiton in one. "What I have +said is truth." + +"Go over again what you did say," cried he, very shortly, after looking +at his paper again and then hard at me. And I went over it. + +"_What_ do you say the man's name is?" + +"Charles Tasson, sir. He was our scout until he fell ill." + +"Pray do you make a point, Mr. Ludlow, of visiting all the scouts and +their friends who may happen to fall sick?" + +"No, sir," I said, uneasily, for there was ridicule in his tone, and +I knew he did not believe a word. "I don't suppose I should ever have +thought of visiting Tasson, but for seeing him look so ill one afternoon +up at Godstowe." + +"He must be very ill to be at Godstowe!" cried Dr. Applerigg. "Very!" + +"He was so ill, sir, that I thought he was dying then. Some flyman he +knew had driven him to Godstowe for the sake of the air." + +"But what's your _motive_, may I ask, for going to sit with him?" He had +a way of laying emphasis on certain of his words. + +"There's no motive, sir: except that he is lonely and dying." + +The doctor looked at me for what seemed ten minutes. "What is this sick +man's address, pray?" + +I told him the address in Stagg's Entry; and he wrote it down, telling +me to present myself again before him the following morning. + +That day, I met Sophie Chalk; her husband was with her. She nodded and +seemed gay as air: he looked dark and sullen as he took off his hat. I +carried the news into college. + +"Sophie Chalk has her husband down, Tod." + +"Queen Anne's dead," retorted he. + +"Oh, you knew it!" And I might have guessed that he did by his not +having spent the past evening in High Street, but in a fellow's rooms at +Oriel. And he was as cross as two sticks. + +"What a _fool_ she must have been to go and throw herself away upon that +low fellow Everty!" he exclaimed, putting his shoulders against the +mantelpiece and stamping on the carpet with one heel. + +"Throw herself away! Well, Tod, opinions vary. _I_ think she was lucky +to get him. As to his being low, we don't know that he is. Putting aside +that one mysterious episode of his being down at our place in hiding, +which I suppose we shall never come to the bottom of, we know nothing of +what Everty has, or has not been." + +"You shut up, Johnny. Common sense is common sense." + +"Everty's being here--we can't associate with him, you know, +Tod--affords a good opportunity for breaking off the visits to High +Street." + +"Who wants to break off the visits to High Street?" + +"I do, for one. Madame Sophie's is a dangerous atmosphere." + +"Dangerous for you, Johnny?" + +"Not a bit of it. _You_ know. Be wise in time, old fellow." + +"Of all the muffs living, Johnny, you are about the greatest. In the old +days you feared I might go in for marrying Sophie Chalk. I don't see +what you can fear now. Do you suppose I should run away with another +man's wife?" + +"Nonsense, Tod!" + +"Well, what else is it? Come! Out with it." + +"Do you think our people or the Whitneys would like it if they knew we +are intimate with her?" + +"They'd not die of it, I expect." + +"I don't like her, Tod. It is not a nice thing of her to allow the +play and the betting, and to have all those fellows there when they +choose to go." + +Tod took his shoulder from the mantelpiece, and sat down to his +imposition: one he had to write for having missed chapel. + +"You mean well, Johnny, though you are a muff." + +Later in the day I met Dr. Applerigg. He signed to me to stop. "Mr. +Ludlow, I find that what you told me this morning was true. And I +withdraw every word of condemnation that I spoke. I wish I had never +greater cause to find fault than I have with you, in regard to this +matter. Not that I can sanction your being out so late, although the +plea of excuse _be_ a dying man. You understand?" + +"Yes, sir. It shall not occur again." + +Down at the house in Stagg's Entry, that evening, Mrs. Cann met me on +the stairs. "One of the great college doctors was here to-day, sir. He +came up asking all manner of questions about you--whether you'd been +here till a'most midnight yesterday, and what you'd stayed so late for, +and--and all about it." + +Dr. Applerigg! "What did you tell him, Mrs. Cann?" + +"Tell him, sir! what should I tell him but the truth? That you had +stayed here late because of Charley's being took worse and nobody with +him, and had read the burial service to him for his asking; and that you +came most evenings, and was just as good to him as gold. He said he'd +see Charley for himself then; and he went in and talked to him, oh so +gently and nicely about his soul; and gave little Nanny half-a-crown +when he went away. Sometimes it happens, sir, that those who look to +have the hardest faces have the gentlest hearts. And Charley's dying, +sir. He was took worse again this evening at five o'clock, and I hardly +thought he'd have lasted till now. The doctor has been, and thinks he'll +go off quietly." + +Quietly perhaps in one sense, but it was a restless death-bed. He was +not still a minute; but he was quite sensible and calm. Waking up out of +a doze when I went in, he held out his hand. + +"It is nearly over, sir." + +I was sure of that, and sat down in silence. There could be no mistaking +his looks. + +"I have just had a strange dream," he whispered, between his laboured +breath; and his eyes were wet with tears, and he looked curiously +agitated. "I thought I saw mother. It was in a wide place, all light and +sunshine, too beautiful for anything but heaven. Mother was looking at +me; I seemed to be outside in dulness and darkness, and not to know how +to get in. Others that I've known in my lifetime, and who have gone on +before, were there, as well as mother; they all looked happy, and there +was a soft strain of music, like nothing I ever heard in this world. All +at once, as I was wondering how I could get in, my sins seemed to rise +up before me in a great cloud; I turned sick, thinking of them; for I +knew no sinful person might enter there. Then I saw One standing on the +brink! it could only have been Jesus; and He held out His hand to me and +smiled, 'I am here to wash out your sins,' He said, and I thought He +touched me with His finger; and oh, the feeling of delight that came +over me, of repose, of bliss, for I knew that all earth's troubles were +over, and I had passed into rest and peace for ever." + +Nanny came up, and gave him one or two spoonfuls of wine. + +"I don't believe it was a dream," he said, after a pause. "I think it +was sent to show me what it is I am entering on; to uphold me through +the darksome valley of the shadow of death." + +"Mother said she should be watching for us, you know, Charley," said the +child. + +A restless fit came over him again, and he stirred uneasily. When it had +passed, he was still for awhile and then looked up at me. + +"It was the new heaven and the new earth, sir, that we are told of in +the Revelation. Would you mind, sir--just those few verses--reading them +to me for the last time?" + +Nanny brought the Bible, and put the candle on the stand, and I read +what he asked for--the first few verses of the twenty-first chapter. The +little girl kneeled down by the bed and joined her hands together. + +"That's enough, Nanny," I whispered. "Put the candle back." + +"But I did not tell all my dream," he resumed; "not quite all. As I +passed over into heaven, I thought I looked down here again. I could +see the places in the world; I could see this same Oxford city. I +saw the men here in it, sir, at their cards and their dice and their +drink; at all their thoughtless folly. Spending their days and nights +without a care for the end, without as much as thinking whether they +need a Saviour or not. And oh, their condition troubled me! I seemed +to understand all things plainly then, sir. And I thought if they +would but once lift up their hearts to Him, even in the midst of their +sin, He would take care of them even then, and save them from it in +the end--for He was tempted Himself once, and knows how sore their +temptations are. In my distress, I tried to call out and tell them +this, and it awoke me." + +"Do you think he ought to talk, sir?" whispered Nanny. But nothing more +could harm him now. + +My time was up, and I ought to be going. Poor Charley spoke so +imploringly--almost as though the thought of it startled him. + +"Not yet, sir; not yet! Stay a bit longer with me. It is for the last +time." + +And I stayed: in spite of my word passed to Dr. Applerigg. It seems to +me a solemn thing to cross the wishes of the dying. + +So the clock went ticking on. Mrs. Cann stole in and out, and a lodger +from below came in and looked at him. Before twelve all was over. + +I went hastening home, not much caring whether the proctor met me again, +or whether he didn't, for in any case I must go to Dr. Applerigg in the +morning, and tell him I had broken my promise to him, and why. Close at +the gates some one overtook and passed me. + +It was Tod. Tod with a white face, and his hair damp with running. He +had come from Sophie Chalk's. + +"What is it, Tod?" + +I laid my hand upon his arm in speaking. He threw it off with a word +that was very like an imprecation. + +"What _is_ the matter?" + +"The devil's the matter. Mind your own business, Johnny." + +"Have you been quarrelling with Everty?" + +"Everty be hanged! The man has betaken himself off." + +"How much have you lost to-night?" + +"Cleaned-out, lad. That's all." + +We got to our room in silence. Tod turned over some cards that lay on +the table, and trimmed the candle from a thief. + +"Tasson's dead, Tod." + +"A good thing if some of us were dead," was the answer. And he turned +into his chamber and bolted the door. + + +III. + +Lunch-time at Oxford, and a sunny day. Instead of college and our usual +fare, bread-and-cheese from the buttery, we were looking on the High +Street from Mrs. Everty's rooms, and about to sit down to a snow-white +damasked table with no end of good things upon it. Madam Sophie had +invited four or five of us to lunch with her. + +The term had gone on, and Easter was not far off. Tod had not worked +much: just enough to keep him out of hot-water. His mind ran on Sophie +Chalk more than it did on lectures and chapel. He and the other fellows +who were caught by her fascinations mostly spent their spare time there. +Sophie dispersed her smiles pretty equally, but Tod contrived to get the +largest share. The difference was this: they had lost their heads to her +and Tod his heart. The evening card-playing did not flag, and the stakes +played for were high. Tod and Gaiton were the general losers: a run of +ill-luck had set in from the first for both of them. Gaiton might afford +this, but Tod could not. + +Tod had his moments of reflection. He'd sit sometimes for an hour +together, his head bent down, whistling softly to himself some slow +dolorous strain, and pulling at his dark whiskers; no doubt pondering +the question of what was to be the upshot of it all. For my part, I +devoutly wished Sophie Chalk had been caught up into the moon before an +ill-wind had wafted her to Oxford. It was an awful shame of her husband +to let her stay on there, turning the under-graduates' brains. Perhaps +he could not help it. + +We sat down to table: Sophie at its head in a fresh-looking pink gown +and bracelets and nicknacks. Lord Gaiton and Tod sat on either side of +her; Richardson was at the foot, and Fred Temple and I faced each other. +What fit of politeness had taken Sophie to invite me, I could not +imagine. Possibly she thought I should be sure to refuse; but I did not. + +"So kind of you all to honour my poor little table!" said Sophie, +as we sat down. "Being in lodgings, I cannot treat you as I should +wish. It is all cold: chickens, meat-patties, lobster-salad, and +bread-and-cheese. Lord Gaiton, this is sherry by you, I think. Mr. +Richardson, you like porter, I know: there is some on the chiffonier." + +We plunged into the dishes without ceremony, each one according to his +taste, and the lunch progressed. I may as well mention one thing--that +there was nothing in Mrs. Everty's manners at any time to take exception +to: never a word was heard from her, never a look seen, that could +offend even an old dowager. She made the most of her charms and her +general fascinations, and flirted quietly; but all in a lady-like way. + +"Thank you, yes; I think I will take a little more salad, Mr. +Richardson," she said to him with a beaming smile. "It is my dinner, +you know. I have not a hall to dine in to-night, as you gentlemen +have. I am sorry to trouble you, Mr. Johnny." + +I was holding her plate for Richardson. There happened at that moment +to be a lull in the talking, and we heard a carriage of some kind stop +at the door, and a loud peal at the house-bell. + +"It's that brother of mine," said Fred Temple. "He bothered me to drive +out to some confounded place with him, but I told him I wouldn't. What's +he bumping up the stairs in that fashion for?" + +The room-door was flung open, and Fred Temple put on a savage face, for +his brother looked after him more than he liked; when, instead of Temple +major, there appeared a shining big brown satin bonnet, and an old +lady's face under it, who stood there with a walking-stick. + +"Yes, you see I was right, grandmamma; I said she was not gone," piped +a shrill voice behind; and Mabel Smith, in an old-fashioned black silk +frock and tippet, came into view. They had driven up to look after +Sophie. + +Sophie was equal to the occasion. She rose gracefully and held out both +her hands, as though they had been welcome as is the sun in harvest. The +old lady leaned on her stick, and stared around: the many faces seemed +to confuse her. + +"Dear me! I did not know you had a luncheon-party, ma'am." + +"Just two or three friends who have dropped in, Mrs. Golding," said +Sophie, airily. "Let me take your stick." + +The old lady, who looked like a very amiable old lady, sat down in the +nearest chair, but kept the stick in her hand. Mabel Smith was regarding +everything with her shrewd eyes and compressing her thin lips. + +"This is Johnny Ludlow, grandmamma; you have heard me speak of _him_: +I don't know the others." + +"How do you do, sir," said the old lady, politely nodding her brown +bonnet at me. "I hope you are in good health, sir?" + +"Yes, ma'am, thank you." For she put it as a question, and seemed to +await an answer. Tod and the rest, who had risen, began to sit down +again. + +"I'm sure I am sorry to disturb you at luncheon, ma'am," said the old +lady to Mrs. Everty. "We came in to see whether you had gone home or +not. I said you of course had gone; that you wouldn't stay away from +your husband so long as this; and also because we had not heard of you +for a month past. But Mabel thought you were here still." + +"I am intending to return shortly," said Sophie. + +"That's well: for I want to send up Mabel. And I brought in a letter +that came to my house this morning, addressed to you," continued the old +lady, lugging out of her pocket a small collection of articles before +she found the letter. "Mabel says it is your husband's handwriting, +ma'am; if so, he must be thinking you are staying with me." + +"Thanks," said Sophie, slipping the letter away unopened. + +"Had you not better see what it says?" suggested Mrs. Golding to her. + +"Not at all: it can wait. May I offer you some luncheon?" + +"Much obleeged, ma'am, but I and Mabel took an early dinner before +setting out. And on which day, Mrs. Everty, do you purpose going?" + +"I'll let you know," said Sophie. + +"What can have kept you so long here?" continued the old lady, +wonderingly. "Mabel said you did not know any of the inhabitants." + +"I have found it of service to my health," replied Sophie with charming +simplicity. "Will you take a glass of sherry, Mrs. Golding?" + +"I don't mind if I do. Just half a glass. Thank you, sir; not much more +than half"--to me, as I went forward with the glass and decanter. "I'm +sure, sir, it is good of you to be attentive to an old lady like me. If +you had a mind for a brisk walk at any time, of three miles, or so, and +would come over to my house, I'd make you welcome. Mabel, write down +the address." + +"And I wish you had come while I was there, Johnny Ludlow," said the +girl, giving me the paper. "I like you. You don't say smiling words to +people with your lips and mock at them in your heart, as some do." + +I remembered that she had not been asked to take any wine, and I offered +it. + +"_No_, thank you," she said with emphasis. "None for me." And it struck +me that she refused because the wine belonged to Sophie. + +The old lady, after nodding a farewell around and shaking hands with +Mrs. Everty, stood leaning on her stick between the doorway and the +stairs. "My servant's not here," she said, looking back, "and these +stairs are steep: would any one be good enough to help me down?" + +Tod went forward to give her his arm; and we heard the fly drive away +with her and Mabel. Somehow the interlude had damped the free go of the +banquet, and we soon prepared to depart also. Sophie made no attempt to +hinder it, but said she should expect us in to take some tea with her in +the evening: and the lot of us filed out together, some going one way, +some another. I and Fred Temple kept together. + +There was a good-natured fellow at Oxford that term, who had come up +from Wales to take his degree, and had brought his wife with him, a nice +kind of young girl who put me in mind of Anna Whitney. They had become +acquainted with Sophie Chalk, and liked her; she fascinated both. She +meant to do it too: for the companionship of staid irreproachable +people like Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Jenkyns, reflected credit on herself in +the eyes of Oxford. + +"I thought we should have met the Ap-Jenkynses, at lunch," remarked +Temple. "What a droll old party that was with the stick! She puts me +in mind of--I say, here's another old party!" he broke off. "Seems to +be a friend of yours." + +It was Mrs. Cann. She had stopped, evidently wanting to speak to me. + +"I have just been to put little Nanny Tasson in the train for London, +sir," she said; "I thought you might like to know it. Her eldest +brother, the one that's settled there, has taken to her. His wife wrote +a nice letter and sent the fare." + +"All right, Mrs. Cann. I hope they'll take good care of her. +Good-afternoon." + +"Who the wonder is Nanny Tasson?" cried Temple as we went on. + +"Only a little friendless child. Her brother was our scout when we first +came, and he died." + +"Oh, by Jove, Ludlow! Look there!" + +I turned at Temple's words. A gig was dashing by as large as life; Tod +in it, driving Sophie Chalk. Behind it dashed another gig, containing +Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Jenkyns. Fred Temple laughed. + +"Mrs. Everty's unmistakably charming," said he, "and we don't know any +real harm of her, but if I were Ap-Jenkyns I should not let my wife be +quite her bosom companion. As to Todhetley, I think he's a gone calf." + +Whitney came to our room as I got in. He had been invited to the +luncheon by Mrs. Everty, but excused himself, and she asked Fred Temple +in his place. + +"Well, Johnny, how did it go off?" + +"Oh, pretty well. Lobster-salad and other good things. Why did not you +go?" + +"Where's Tod?" he rejoined, not answering the question. + +"Out on a driving-party. Sophie Chalk and the Ap-Jenkynses." + +Whitney whistled through the verse of an old song: "Froggy would +a-wooing go." "I say, Johnny," he said presently, "you had better give +Tod a hint to take care of himself. That thing will go too far if he +does not look out." + +"As if Tod would mind me! Give him the hint yourself, Bill." + +"I said half a word to him this morning after chapel: he turned on me +and accused me of being jealous." + +We both laughed. + +"I had a letter from home yesterday," Bill went on, "ordering me to keep +clear of Madam Sophie." + +"No! Who from?" + +"The mother. And Miss Deveen, who is staying with them, put in a +postscript." + +"How did they know Sophie Chalk was here?" + +"Through me. One wet afternoon I wrote a long epistle to Harry, telling +him, amidst other items, that Sophie Chalk was here, turning some of our +heads, especially Todhetley's. Harry, like a flat, let Helen get hold of +the letter, and she read it aloud, pro bono publico. There was nothing +in it that I might not have written to Helen herself; but Mr. Harry +won't get another from me in a hurry. Sophie seems to have fallen to a +discount with the mother and Miss Deveen." + +Bill Whitney did not know what I knew--the true story of the emeralds. + +"And that's why I did not go to the lunch to-day, Johnny. Who's this?" + +It was the scout. He came in to bring in a small parcel, daintily done +up in white paper. + +"Something for you, sir," he said to me. "A boy has just left it." + +"It can't be for me--that I know of. It looks like wedding-cake." + +"Open it," said Bill. "Perhaps one of the grads has gone and got +married." + +We opened it together, laughing. A tiny paste-board box loomed out with +a jeweller's name on it; inside it was a chased gold cross, attached to +a slight gold chain. + +"It's a mistake, Bill. I'll do it up again." + +Tod came back in time for dinner. Seeing the little parcel on the +mantelshelf, he asked what it was. So I told him--something that the +jeweller's shop must have sent to our room by mistake. Upon that, he +tore the paper open; called the shop people hard names for sending it +into college, and put the box in his pocket. Which showed that it was +for him. + +I went to Sophie's in the evening, having promised her, but not as soon +as Tod, for I stayed to finish some Greek. Whitney went with me, in +spite of his orders from home. The luncheon-party had all assembled +there with the addition of Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Jenkyns. Sophie sat behind +the tea-tray, dispensing tea; Gaiton handed the plum-cake. She wore +a silken robe of opal tints; white lace fell over her wrists and +bracelets; in her hair, brushed off her face, fluttered a butterfly +with silver wings; and on her neck was the chased gold cross that had +come to our rooms a few hours before. + +"Tod's just a fool, Johnny," said Whitney in my ear. "Upon my word, I +think he is. And she's a syren!--and it was at our house he met her +first!" + +After Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Jenkyns left, for she was tired, they began cards. +Sophie was engrossing Gaiton, and Tod sat down to écarté. He refused at +first, but Richardson drew him on. + +"I'll show Tod the letter I had from home," said Whitney to me as we +went out. "What can possess him to go and buy gold crosses for her? +She's married." + +"Gaiton and Richardson buy her things also, Bill." + +"They don't know how to spend their money fast enough. I wouldn't: I +know that." + +Tod and Gaiton came in together soon after I got in. Gaiton just looked +in to say good-night, and proposed that we should breakfast with him +on the morrow, saying he'd ask Whitney also: and then he went up to +his own rooms. + +Tod fell into one of his thinking fits. He had work to do, but he sat +staring at the fire, his legs stretched out. With all his carelessness +he had a conscience and some forethought. I told him Bill Whitney had +had a lecture from home, touching Sophie Chalk, and I conclude he heard. +But he made no sign. + +"I wish to _goodness_ you wouldn't keep up that tinkling, Johnny," he +said by-and-by, in a tone of irritation. + +The "tinkling" was a bit of quiet harmony. However, I shut down the +piano, and went and sat by the fire, opposite to him. His brow looked +troubled; he was running his hands through his hair. + +"I wonder whether I could raise some money, Johnny," he began, after a +bit. + +"How much money?" + +"A hundred, or so." + +"You'd have to pay a hundred and fifty for doing it." + +"Confound it, yes! And besides----" + +"Besides what?" + +"Nothing." + +"Look here, Tod: we should have gone on as straightly and steadily as +need be but for _her_. As it is, you are wasting your time and getting +out of the way of work. What's going to be the end of it?" + +"Don't know myself, Johnny." + +"Do you ever ask yourself?" + +"Where's the use of asking?" he returned, after a pause. "If I ask it of +myself at night, I forget it by the morning." + +"Pull up at once, Tod. You'd be in time." + +"Yes, now: don't know that I shall be much longer," said Tod candidly. +He was in a soft mood that night; an unusual thing with him. "Some awful +complication may come of it: a few writs or something." + +"Sophie Chalk can't do you any good, Tod." + +"She has not done me any harm." + +"Yes she has. She has unsettled you from the work that you came to +Oxford to do; and the play in her rooms has caused you to run into debt +that you don't know how to get out of: it's nearly as much harm as she +can do you." + +"Is it?" + +"As much as she can do any honest fellow. Tod, if you were to lapse into +crooked paths, you'd break the good old pater's heart. There's nobody in +the world he cares for as he cares for you." + +Tod sat twitching his whiskers. I could not understand his mood: all the +carelessness and the fierceness had quite gone out of him. + +"It's the thought of the father that pulls me up, lad. What a +cross-grained world it is! Why should a bit of pleasure be hedged in +with thorns?" + +"If we don't go to bed we shall not be up for chapel." + +"_You_ can go to bed." + +"Why do you drive her out, Tod?" + +"Why does the sun shine?" was the lucid answer. + +"I saw you with her in that gig to-day." + +"We only went four miles. Four out and four in." + +"You may be driving her rather too far some day--fourteen, or so." + +"I don't think she'd be driven. With all her simplicity, she knows how +to take care of herself." + +Simplicity! I looked at him; and saw he spoke the word in good faith. +_He_ was simple. + +"She has a husband, Tod." + +"Well?" + +"Do you suppose he would like to see you driving her abroad?--and all +you fellows in her rooms to the last minute any of you dare stop out?" + +"That's not my affair. It's his." + +"Any way, Everty might come down upon the lot of you some of these fine +days, and say things you'd not like. _She's_ to blame. Why, you heard +what that old lady in the brown bonnet said--that her husband must +think Sophie was staying with her." + +"The fire's low, and I'm cold," said Tod. "Good-night, Johnny." + +He went into his room, and I to mine. + +A few years ago, there appeared a short poem called "Amor Mundi."[1] +While reading it, I involuntarily recalled this past experience at +Oxford, for it described a young fellow's setting-out on the downward +path, as Tod did. Two of life's wayfarers start on their long life +journey: the woman first; the man sees and joins her; then speaks to +her. + + [1] Christina G. Rossetti. + + "Oh, where are you going, with your love-locks flowing, + And the west wind blowing along the narrow track?" + "This downward path is easy, come with me, an it please ye; + We shall escape the up-hill by never turning back." + + So they two went together in the sunny August weather; + The honey-blooming heather lay to the left and right: + And dear she was to dote on, her small feet seemed to float on + The air, like soft twin-pigeons too sportive to alight. + +And so they go forth, these two, on their journey, revelling in the +summer sunshine and giving no heed to their sliding progress; until he +sees something in the path that startles him. But the syren accounts for +it in some plausible way; it lulls his fear, and onward they go again. +In time he sees something worse, halts, and asks her again: + + "Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?" + "Oh, that's a thin dead body that waits the Eternal term." + +The answer effectually arouses him, and he pulls up in terror, asking +her to turn. She answers again, and he knows his fate. + + "Turn again, oh my sweetest! Turn again, false and fleetest! + This way, whereof thou weetest, is surely Hell's own track!" + "Nay, too late for cost counting, nay too steep for hill-mounting, + This downward path is easy, but there's no turning back." + +Shakespeare tells us that there is a tide in the affairs of man, which, +taken at the flood, leads on to fortune: omitted, all the voyage of the +after life is spent in shoals and miseries. That will apply to other +things besides fortune. I fully believe that after a young fellow has +set out on the downward path, in almost all cases there's a chance given +him of pulling up again, if he only is sufficiently wise and firm to +seize upon it. The opportunity was to come for Tod. He had started; +there was no doubt of that; but he had not got down very far yet and +could go backward almost as easily as forward. Left alone, he would +probably make a sliding run of it, and descend into the shoals. But the +chance for him was at hand. + +Our commons and Whitney's went up to Gaiton's room in the morning, and +we breakfasted there. Lecture that day was at eleven, but I had work to +do beforehand. So had Tod, for the matter of that; plenty of it. I went +down to mine, but Tod stayed up with the two others. + +Bursting into our room, as a fellow does when he is late for anything, +I saw at the open window somebody that I thought must be Mr. Brandon's +ghost. It took me aback, and for a moment I stood staring. + +"Have you no greeting for me, Johnny Ludlow?" + +"I was lost in surprise, sir. I am very glad to see you." + +"I dare say you are!" he returned, as if he doubted my word. +"It's a good half-hour that I have waited here. You've been at a +breakfast-party!" + +He must have got that from the scout. "Not at a party, sir. Gaiton asked +us to take our commons up, and breakfast with him in his room." + +"Who is Gaiton?" + +"He is Lord Gaiton. One of the students at Christchurch." + +"Never mind his being a lord. Is he any good?" + +I could not say Gaiton was particularly good, so passed the question +over, and asked Mr. Brandon when he came to Oxford. + +"I got here at mid-day yesterday. How are you getting on?" + +"Oh, very well, sir." + +"Been in any rows?" + +"No, sir." + +"And Todhetley? How is he getting on?" + +I should have said very well to this; it would never have done to say +very ill, but Tod and Bill Whitney interrupted the answer. They looked +just as much surprised as I had been. After talking a bit, Mr. Brandon +left, saying he should expect us all three at the Mitre in the evening +when dinner in Hall was over. + +"What the deuce brings him at Oxford?" cried Tod. + +Whitney laughed. "I'll lay a crown he has come to look after Johnny and +his morals." + +"After the lot of us," added Tod, pushing his books about. "Look here, +you two. I'm not obliged to go bothering to that Mitre in the evening, +and I shan't. You'll be enough without me." + +"It won't do, Tod," I said. "He expects you." + +"What if he does? I have an engagement elsewhere." + +"Break it." + +"I shall not do anything of the kind. There! Hold your tongue, Johnny, +and push the ink this way." + +Tod held to that. So when I and Whitney reached the Mitre after dinner, +we said he was unable to get off a previous engagement, putting the +excuse as politely as we could. + +"Oh," said old Brandon, twitching his yellow silk handkerchief off his +head, for he had been asleep before the fire. "Engaged elsewhere, is he! +With the lady I saw him driving out yesterday, I suppose: a person with +blue feathers on her head." + +This struck us dumb. Bill said nothing, neither did I. + +"It was Miss Sophie Chalk, I presume," went on old Brandon, ringing the +bell. "Sit down, boys; we'll have tea up." + +The tea and coffee must have been ordered beforehand, for they came +in at once. Mr. Brandon drank four cups of tea, and ate a plate of +bread-and-butter and some watercress. + +"Tea is my best meal in the day," he said. "You young fellows +all like coffee best. Don't spare it. What's that by you, William +Whitney?--anchovy toast? Cut that pound-cake, Johnny." + +Nobody could say, with all his strict notions, that Mr. Brandon was not +hospitable. He'd have ordered up the Mitre's whole larder had he thought +we could eat it. And never another word did he say about Tod until the +things had gone away. + +Then he began, quietly at first: he sitting on one side the fire, I and +Bill on the other. Touching gently on this, alluding to that, our eyes +opened in more senses than one; for we found that he knew all about +Sophie Chalk's sojourn in the town, the attention she received from +the undergraduates, and Tod's infatuation. + +"What's Todhetley's object in going there?" he asked. + +"Amusement, I think, sir," hazarded Bill. + +"Does he gamble there for amusement too?" + +Where on earth had old Brandon got hold of all this? + +"How much has Todhetley lost already?" he continued. "He is in debt, I +know. Not for the first time from the same cause." + +Bill stared. He knew nothing of that old episode in London with the +Clement-Pells. I felt my face flush. + +"Tod does not care for playing really, sir. But the cards are there, and +he sees others play and gets drawn in to join." + +"Well, what amount has he lost this time, Johnny?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"But you know that he is in debt?" + +"I--yes, sir. Perhaps he is a little." + +"Look here, boys," said old Brandon. "Believing that matters were not +running in a satisfactory groove with some of you, I came down to Oxford +yesterday to look about me a bit--for I don't intend that Johnny Ludlow +shall lapse into bad ways, if I can keep him out of them. Todhetley may +have made up his mind to go to the deuce, but he shall not take Johnny +with him. I hear no good report of Todhetley; he neglects his studies +for the sake of a witch, and is in debt over his head and shoulders." + +"Who could have told you that, sir?" + +"Never you mind, Johnny Ludlow; I dare say you know it's pretty true. +Now look here--as I said just now. I mean to see what I can do towards +saving Todhetley, for the sake of my good old friend, the Squire, and +for his dead mother's sake; and I appeal to you both to aid me. You can +answer my questions if you will; and you are not children, that you +should make an evasive pretence of ignorance. If I find matters are +too hard for me to cope with, I shall send for the Squire and Sir John +Whitney; their influence may effect what mine cannot. If I can deal with +the affair successfully, and save Todhetley from himself, I'll do so, +and say nothing about it anywhere. You understand me?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Very well. To begin with, what amount of debt has Todhetley got into?" + +It seemed to be a choice of evils: but the least of them was to speak. +Bill honestly said he would tell in a minute if he knew. I knew little +more than he; only that Tod had been saying the night before he wished +he could raise a hundred pounds. + +"A hundred pounds!" repeated old Brandon, nodding his head like a +Chinese mandarin. "Pretty well, that, for a first term at Oxford. Well, +we'll leave that for the present, and go to other questions. What snare +and delusion is drawing him on to make visits to this person, this +Sophie Chalk? What does he purpose? Is it marriage?" + +Marriage! Bill and I both looked up at him. + +"She is married already, sir. Did you not know it?" + +"Married already! Who says so?" + +So I told him all about it--as much as I knew--and that her husband, +Mr. Everty, had been to Oxford once or twice to see her. + +"Well, that's a relief," cried Mr. Brandon, drawing a deep breath, as +though a fear of some kind had been lifted from his mind. And then +he fell into a reverie, his head nodding incessantly, and his yellow +handkerchief in his hand keeping time to it. + +"If it's better in one sense, it's worse in another," he squeaked. +"Todhetley's in love with her, I suppose!" + +"Something like it, sir," said Bill. + +"What brainless fools some of you young men can be!" + +But it was then on the stroke of nine, when Old Tom would peal out. +Mr. Brandon hurried us away: he seemed to understand the notions of +University life as well as we did: ordering us to say nothing to Tod, +as he intended to speak to him on the morrow. + +And we concluded that he did. Tod came stalking in during the afternoon +in a white rage with somebody, and I thought it might be with old +Brandon. + + * * * * * + +The time passed. Mr Brandon stayed on at the Mitre as though he meant to +make it his home for good, and was evidently watching. Tod seemed to be +conscious of it, and to exist in a chronic state of irritation. Sophie +Chalk stayed on also, and Tod was there more than ever. The affair had +got wind somehow--I mean Tod's infatuation for her--and was talked of +in the colleges. Richardson fell ill about that time: at least, he met +with an accident which confined him to his bed: and the play at Mrs. +Everty's was not much to speak of: I did not go, Mr. Brandon had +interdicted it. Thus the time went on, and Passion Week was coming in. + +"Are you running for a wager, Johnny Ludlow?" + +I was running down to the river and had nearly run over Mr. Brandon, who +was strolling along with his hands under his coat-tails. It was Saturday +afternoon, and some of us were going out rowing. Mr. Brandon came down +to see us embark. + +As we all stood there, who should loom into sight but Sophie Chalk. She +was leading a little mouse-coloured dog by a piece of red tape, one that +Fred Temple had given her; and her shining hair was a sight to be seen +in the sunlight; Tod walked by her with his arms folded. They halted to +talk with some of us for a minute, and then went on, Madam Sophie giving +old Brandon a saucy stare from her wide-open blue eyes. He had stood as +still as a post, giving never a word to either of them. + +That same night, when Tod and I were in our room alone, Mr. Brandon +walked in. It was pretty late, but Tod was about to depart on his visit +to High Street. As if the entrance of Mr. Brandon had been the signal +for him to bolt, he put on his trencher and turned to the door. Quick as +thought, Mr. Brandon interposed himself. + +"If you go out of this room, Joseph Todhetley, it shall be over my +body," cried he, a whole hatful of authority in his squeaky voice. "I +have come in to hold a final conversation with you; and I mean to do +it." + +I thought an explosion was inevitable, with Tod's temper. He controlled +it, however; and after a moment's hesitation put off his cap. Mr. +Brandon sat down in the old big chair by the fire; Tod stood on the +other side, his arm on the mantelpiece. + +In a minute or two, they were going at it kindly. Old Brandon put Tod's +doings before him in the plainest language he could command; Tod +retorted insolently in his passion. + +"I have warned you enough against your ways and against that woman," +said Mr. Brandon. "I am here to do it once again, and to bid you for the +last time give up her acquaintanceship. Yes, sir, _bid_ you: I stand in +the light of your unconscious father." + +"I wouldn't do it for my father," cried Tod, in his fury. + +"She is leading you into a gulf of--of brimstone," fired old Brandon. +"Day by day you creep down a step lower into it, sir, like a calf that +is being wiled to the shambles. Once fairly in, you'll be smothered: the +whole world won't be able to pull you out again." + +Tod answered with a torrent of words. The chief burden of them was--that +if he chose to walk into the brimstone, it was not Mr. Brandon who +should keep him out of it. + +"Is it not?" retorted Mr. Brandon--and though he was very firm and hard, +he gave no sign of losing his temper. "We'll see that. I am in this town +to strive to save you, Joseph Todhetley; and if I can't do it by easy +means, I'll do it by hard ones. I got you out of one scrape, thanks to +Johnny here, and now I'm going to get you out of another." + +Tod held his peace. That past obligation was often on his conscience. + +"You ought to take shame to yourself, sir," continued old Brandon. "You +were placed at Oxford to study, to learn to be a man and a gentleman, +to prepare yourself to fight well the battle of life, not to waste the +talents God has given you, and fritter away your best days in sin." + +"In sin?" retorted Tod, jerking his head fiercely. + +"Yes, sir, in sin. What else do you call it--this idleness that you are +indulging in? The short space of time that young men spend at the +University must be used, not abused. Once it has passed, it can never +again be laid hold of. What sort of example are you setting my ward +here, who is as your younger brother? Stay where you are, Johnny Ludlow. +I choose that you shall be present at this." + +"Johnny need not fret himself that he'll catch much harm from my +iniquities," said Tod with a sneer. + +"Now listen to me, young man," spoke Mr. Brandon. "If you persist in +this insane conduct and refuse to hear reason, I'll keep you out of +danger by putting you in prison." + +Tod stared. + +"You owe me a hundred pounds." + +"I am quite conscious of that, sir: and of my inability hitherto to +repay it." + +"For that debt I will shut you up in prison. Headstrong young idiots +like you must be saved from themselves." + +Tod laughed slightly in his insolence. A defiant, mocking laugh. + +"I should like to see you try to shut me up in prison! You have no power +to do it, Mr. Brandon: you have never proved the debt." + +Mr. Brandon rose, and took a step towards him. "You dare to tell _me_ I +cannot do a thing that I say I will do, Joseph Todhetley! I shall make +an affidavit before a judge in chambers that you are about to leave the +country, and obtain the warrant that will lock you up. And I say to you +that I believe you are going to leave it, sooner or later; and that +Chalk woman with you!" + +"What an awful lie," cried Tod, his face all ablaze. + +"Lie or no lie, I believe it. I believe it is what she will bring you +to, unless you are speedily separated from her. And if there be no other +way of saving you, why, I'll save you by force." + +Tod ran his hands through his damp hair: what with wrath and emotion he +was in a fine heat. Knowing nothing of the law himself, he supposed old +Brandon could do as he said, and it sobered him. + +"I am your father's friend, Joseph Todhetley, and I'll take care of you +for his sake if I can. I have stayed on here, putting myself, as it +were, into his place to save him pain. As his substitute, I have a right +to be heard; ay, and to act. Do you know that your dead mother was very +dear to me? I will tell you what perhaps I never should have told you +but for this crisis in your life, that her sister was to me the dearest +friend a man can have in this life; she would have been my wife but that +death claimed her. Your mother was nearly equally dear, and loved me to +the last. She took my hand in dying, and spoke of you; of you, her only +child. 'Should it ever be in your power to shield him from harm or +evil, do so, John,' she said, 'do it for my sake.' And with Heaven's +help, I will do it now." + +Tod was moved. The mention of his mother softened him at all times. Mr. +Brandon sat down again. + +"Don't let us play at this pitched battle, Joe. Hear a bit of truth from +me, of common sense: can't you see that I have your interest at heart? +There are two roads that lie before a young man on his setting out in +life, either of which he can take: you can take either, even yet. The +one leads to honour, to prosperity, to a clear conscience, to a useful +career, to a hale and happy old age--and, let us hope, to heaven. The +other leads to vice, to discomfort, to miserable self-torment, to a +waste of talent and energies; in short, to altogether a lost life. Lost, +at any rate, for this world: and--we'll not speculate upon what it may +be in the other. Are you attending?" + +Tod just lifted his eyes in answer. I sat at the table by my books, +silently turning some of their leaves, ready to drop through the floor +with annoyance. Mr. Brandon resumed. + +"You have come to the Oxford University to perfect your education; to +acquire self-reliance, experience, and a tone of good manners; to keep +upright ways, to eschew bad company, and to train yourself to be a +Christian gentleman. Do this, and you will go home with satisfaction and +a sound conscience. In time you will marry, and rear your children to +good, and be respected of all men. This is the career expected of you; +this is the road you ought to take." + +He paused slightly, and then went on. + +"I will put the other road before you; the one you seem so eager to rush +upon. Ah, boy! how many a one, with as hopeful a future before him as +you have, has gone sliding, sliding down unconsciously, never meaning, +poor fellow, to slide too far, and been lost in the vortex of sin and +shame! You are starting on well for it. Wine, and cards, and betting, +and debt; and a singing mermaid to lure you on! That woman, with the +hard light eyes, and the seductive airs, has cast her spell upon you. +You think her an angel, no doubt; I say she's more of an angel's +opposite----" + +"Mr. Brandon!" + +"There are women in the world who will conjure a man's coat off his +back, and his pockets after it," persisted Mr. Brandon, drowning the +interruption. "She is one of them. They are bad to the core. They are; +and they draw a man into all kinds of irretrievable entanglements. She +will draw you: and the end may be that you'd find her saddled on you for +good. Who will care to take your hand in friendship then? Will you dare +to clasp that of honest people, or hold up your face in the light of +day? No: not for very shame. That's what gambling and evil courses will +bring a man to: and, his self-respect once gone, it's gone for ever. +You will feel that you have raised a barrier between you and your kind: +remembrance will be a sting, and your days will be spent in one long cry +of too late repentance, 'Oh, that I had been wise in time!'" + +"You are altogether mistaken in her," burst out Tod. "There's no harm in +her. She is as particular as--as any lady need be." + +"No harm in her!" retorted Mr. Brandon. "Is there any good in her? Put +it at its best: she induces you to waste your time and your substance. +How much money has the card-playing and the present-giving taken out of +you, pray? What amount of debt has it involved you in? More than you +know how to pay." + +Tod winced. + +"Be wise in time, lad, now, without further delay, and break off this +dangerous connection. I know that in your better moments you must see +how fatal it may become. It is a crisis in your life; it may be its +turning-point; and, as you choose the evil or the good, so may you be +lost or saved in this world and in eternity." + +Tod muttered something about his not deserving to be judged so harshly. + +"I judge you not harshly yet: I say that evil will come unless you flee +from it," said Mr. Brandon. "Don't you care for yourself?--for your good +name? Is it nothing to you whether you turn out a scamp or a gentleman?" + +To look at Tod just then, it was a great deal. + +"Have you any reverence for your father?--for the memory of your mother? +Then you will do a little violence to your own inclinations, even though +it be hard and difficult--more difficult than to get a double first; +harder than having the best tooth in your head drawn--and take your +leave of that lady for ever. For your own sake, Joe; for your own sake!" + +Tod was pulling gently at his whiskers. + +"Send all folly to the wind, Joseph Todhetley! Say to yourself, for +God and myself will I strive henceforth! It only needs a little steady +resolution; and you can call it up if you choose. You shall always find +a friend in me. Write down on a bit of paper the sums you owe, and I'll +give you a cheque to cover them. Come, shake hands upon it." + +"You are very kind, sir," gasped Tod, letting his hand meet old +Brandon's. + +"I hope you will let me be kind. Why, lad, you should have had more +spirit than to renew an acquaintanceship with a false girl; an +adventurer, who has gone about the country stealing jewels." + +"Stealing jewels!" echoed Tod. + +"Stealing jewels, lad. Did you never know it? She took Miss Deveen's +emeralds at Whitney Hall." + +"Oh, that was a mistake," said Tod, cheerfully. "She explained it to +me." + +"A mistake, was it! Explained it to you, did she! When?" + +"At Oxford: before she had been here above a day or two. She introduced +the subject herself, sir, saying she supposed I had heard something +about it, and what an absurd piece of business the suspecting her was; +altogether a mistake." + +"Ah, she's a wily one, Joe," said Mr. Brandon. "Johnny Ludlow could have +told you whether it was a mistake or not. Why, boy, she stole the stones +out of Miss Deveen's own dressing-room, and went up to London the +next day, or the next but one, and pledged them the same night at a +pawnbroker's, in a false name, and gave a false account of herself. +Moreover, when it was brought home to her, she confessed all upon her +knees to Miss Deveen, and sued for mercy." + +Tod looked from Mr. Brandon to me. At the time of the discovery, he +had had a hint given him of the fact, with a view of more effectually +weaning him from Sophie Chalk, but not the particulars. + +"It's true, Todhetley," said Mr. Brandon, nodding his head. "You may +judge, therefore, whether she is a nice kind of person for you to be +seen beauing about Oxford streets in the face and eyes of the dons." And +Tod winced again, and bit his lips. + +Mr. Brandon rose, taking both Tod's hands in his, and said a few solemn +words in the kindest tone I had ever heard him speak; wrung his hands, +nodded good-night to me, and was gone. Tod walked about the room a bit, +whistling softly to make a show of indifference, and looking miserably +cut up. + +"Is what he said true?" he asked me presently, stopping by the +mantelpiece again: "about the emeralds?" + +"Every word of it." + +"Then why on earth could you not open your mouth and tell me, Johnny +Ludlow?" + +"I thought you knew it. I'm sure you were told of it at the time. Had I +brought up the matter again later, you'd have been fit to punch me into +next week, Tod." + +"Let's hear the details--shortly." + +I went over them all; shortly, as he said; but omitting none. Tod stood +in silence, never once interrupting. + +"Did the Whitneys know of this?" + +"Anna did." + +"Anna!" + +"Yes. Anna had suspected Sophie from the first. She saw her steal out +of Miss Deveen's room, and saw her sewing something into her stays at +bed-time. But Anna kept it to herself until discovery had come." + +Tod could frown pretty well on ordinary occasions, but I never saw +a frown like the one on his brow as he listened. And I thought--I +thought--it was meant for Sophie Chalk. + +"Lady Whitney, I expect, knows it all now, Tod. Perhaps Helen also. +Old Brandon went over to the Hall to spend the day, and it was in +consequence of what he heard from Lady Whitney and Miss Deveen that he +came down here to look us up." + +"Meaning _me_," said Tod. "Not us. Use right words, Johnny." + +"They did not know, you see, that Sophie Chalk was married. And they +must have noticed that you cared for her." + +Tod made no comment. He just leaned against the shelf in silence. I was +stacking my books. + +"Good-night, Johnny," he quietly said, without any appearance of +resentment; and went into his room. + +The next day was Palm Sunday. Tod lay in bed with a splitting headache, +could not lift his head from the pillow, and his skin was as sallow as +an old gander's. "Glad to hear it," said Mr. Brandon, when I told him; +"it will give him a quiet day for reflection." + +A surprise awaited me that morning, and Mr. Brandon also. Miss Deveen +was at Oxford, with Helen and Anna Whitney. They had arrived the evening +before, and meant to stay and go up with Bill and with us. I did not +tell Tod: in fact, he seemed too ill to be spoken to, his head covered +with the bedclothes. + +You can't see many a finer sight than the Broad Walk presents on the +evening of Palm Sunday. Every one promenades there, from the dean +downwards. Our party went together: Miss Deveen, Helen, and Anna; Bill, +I, and Mr. Brandon. + +We were in the middle of the walk; and it was at its fullest, when Tod +came up. He was better, but looked worn and ill. A flush of surprise +came into his face when he saw who we had with us, and he shook hands +with the ladies nearly in silence. + +"Oxford has not mended your looks, Mr. Todhetley," said Miss Deveen. + +"I have one of my bad headaches to-day," he answered. "I get them now +and then." + +The group of us were turning to walk on, when in that moment there +approached Sophie Chalk. Sophie in a glistening blue silk, and flowers, +and jingling ornaments, and kid gloves. She was coming up to us as bold +as brass with her fascinating smile, when she saw Miss Deveen, and +stopped short. Miss Deveen passed on without notice of any kind; Helen +really did not see her; Anna, always gentle and kind, slightly bowed. +Even then Madam Sophie's native impudence came to her aid. She saw they +meant to shun her, and she nodded and smiled at Tod, and made as though +she would stop him for a chat. He took off his cap to her, and went on. +Anna's delicate face had flushed, and his own was white enough for its +coffin. + +Miss Deveen held Tod's hand in parting. "I am so glad to have met you +again," she cordially said; "we are all glad. We shall see you often, I +hope, until we go up together. And all you young people are coming to +me for a few days in the Easter holidays. Friends cannot afford too long +absences from one another in this short life. Good-bye; and mind you get +rid of your headache for to-morrow. There; shake hands with Helen and +Anna." + +He did as he was bid. Helen was gay as usual; Anna rather shy. Her +pretty blue eyes glanced up at Tod's, and he smiled for the first time +that day. Sophie Chalk might have fascinated three parts of his heart +away, but there was a corner in it remaining for Anna Whitney. + +I did not do it intentionally. Going into our room the next day, a sheet +of paper with some writing on it lay on the table, the ink still wet. +Supposing it was some message just left for me by Tod, I went up to read +it, and caught the full sense of the lines. + + "DEAR MRS. EVERTY, + + "I have just received your note. I am sorry that I cannot drive you + out to-day--and fear that I shall not be able to do so at all. Our + friends, who are staying here, have to receive the best part of my + leisure time. + + "Faithfully yours, + "J. TODHETLEY." + +And I knew by the contents of the note, by its very wording even, that +the crisis was past, and Tod saved. + +"Thank you, Johnny! Perhaps you'll read your own letters another time. +That's mine." + +He had come out of his room with the envelopes and sealing-wax. + +"I beg your pardon, Tod. I thought it was a message you had left for me, +seeing it lie open." + +"You've read it, I suppose?" + +"Yes, or just as good. My eyes seemed to take it all in at once; and I +am as glad as though I had had a purse of gold given to me." + +"Well, it's no use trying to fight against a stream," said he, as he +folded the note. "And if I had known the truth about the emeralds, +why--there'd have been no bother at all." + +"Putting the emeralds out of the question, she is not a nice person to +know, Tod. And there's no telling what might have come of it." + +"I suppose not. When the two paths, down-hill and up-hill, cross each +other, as Brandon put it, and the one is pleasant and the other is not, +one has to do a bit of battle with one's self in choosing the right." + +And something in his face told me that in the intervening day and +nights, he had battled with himself as few can battle; fought +strenuously with the evil, striven hard for the good, and come out a +conqueror. + +"It has cost you pain." + +"Somewhat, Johnny. There are few good things in the way of duty but what +do cost man pain--as it seems to me. The world and a safe conscience +will give us back our recompense." + +"And heaven too, Tod." + +"Ay, lad; and heaven." + + +THE END. + + +PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES. + + + + +"Mrs. Henry Wood has an art of novel-writing which no rival possesses in +the same degree."--_Spectator._ + +"The fame of Mrs. Henry Wood widens and strengthens."--_Morning Post._ + +MRS. HENRY WOOD'S NOVELS. + +_Sale approaching Two Million and a half Copies._ + + + EAST LYNNE. _480th Thousand._ + THE CHANNINGS. _200th Thousand._ + MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES. _150th Thousand._ + THE SHADOW OF ASHLYDYAT. _110th Thousand._ + LORD OAKBURN'S DAUGHTERS. _105th Thousand._ + VERNER'S PRIDE. _85th Thousand._ + ROLAND YORKE. _130th Thousand._ + JOHNNY LUDLOW. First Series. _55th Thousand._ + MILDRED ARKELL. _80th Thousand._ + ST. MARTIN'S EVE. _76th Thousand._ + TREVLYN HOLD. _65th Thousand._ + GEORGE CANTERBURY'S WILL. _70th Thousand._ + THE RED COURT FARM. _80th Thousand._ + WITHIN THE MAZE. _112th Thousand._ + ELSTER'S FOLLY. _60th Thousand._ + LADY ADELAIDE. _60th Thousand._ + OSWALD CRAY. _60th Thousand._ + JOHNNY LUDLOW. Second Series. _35th Thousand._ + ANNE HEREFORD. _55th Thousand._ + DENE HOLLOW. _60th Thousand._ + EDINA. _45th Thousand._ + A LIFE'S SECRET. _65th Thousand._ + COURT NETHERLEIGH. _46th Thousand._ + BESSY RANE. _42nd Thousand._ + THE MASTER OF GREYLANDS. _50th Thousand._ + ORVILLE COLLEGE. _38th Thousand._ + POMEROY ABBEY. _48th Thousand._ + THE HOUSE OF HALLIWELL. _30th Thousand._ + THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. _15th Thousand._ + ASHLEY. _15th Thousand._ + JOHNNY LUDLOW. Third Series. _23rd Thousand._ + LADY GRACE. _21st Thousand._ + ADAM GRAINGER. _15th Thousand._ + THE UNHOLY WISH. _15th Thousand._ + JOHNNY LUDLOW. Fourth Series. _15th Thousand._ + JOHNNY LUDLOW. Fifth Series. _15th Thousand._ + JOHNNY LUDLOW. Sixth Series. + + + LONDON: + MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED. + + + + +Transcriber's Note + + +For this txt-version italics were surrounded with _underscores_, words +in Old English font with +signs+, and small capitals changed to all +capitals. + +Errors in punctuation were corrected silently. Also the following +corrections were made, on page + + 23 "harbonr" changed to "harbour" (efforts to make the harbour.) + 40 "lives" changed to "live" (How does he live then?) + 71 "soireé" changed to "soirée" (home at night from some soirée) + 78 "interupted" changed to "interrupted" (interrupted Nancy) + 88 "déjeuner" changed to "déjeûner" ( whilst I was preparing the + déjeûner) + 105 "to-morow" changed to "to-morrow" (he probably will be here + to-morrow) + 111 "Livinia" changed to "Lavinia" (Lavinia did not herself talk + about) + 201 "ano er" changed to "another" (another doctor who had the + reputation) + 312 "Jocobson" changed to "Jacobson" (the way old Jacobson came + bursting in.) + 418 "inpudence" changed to "impudence" (Madam Sophie's native + impudence came to her aid). + +Otherwise the original was preserved, including inconsistent spelling +and hyphenation. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Johnny Ludlow, Fifth Series, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40951 *** |